Post by violetxsinclaire on Aug 17, 2008 22:57:22 GMT -5
There were those days that you just feel like crawling in a hole and dying, then your limp carcass is eaten away by maggots until only your bones are left to be found by archaeologists hundreds of years from now. And you are dust. That was exactly how Violet was feeling. Since she had bellyflopped out of her four poster bed she knew the day would be terrible. She should have just had a Nosebleed Nougat, it would have bought her a couple hours sleep at least.
Now here she was lurking about some abandoned hallway in the middle of the afternoon. Her free hour between Herbology and Divination was it? It really didn't matter all that much. The point was she was being pathetic. Moping in her self-centeredness. Only a few short months ago she would not be caught dead whining or with dirt under her nails. At least Violet had managed to have a shower before the dreadful first class of History of Magic. It was perfectly boring. The curious part of her brain wanted to know if Muggle history was a terrible. Likely enough.
"Vi, your not yourself lately"
Those words rung loudly in her ears, a close friend had spoken the a breakfast. It wasn't the words that bothered her, but the genuine concern in the friend's voice. Violet didn't even know who herself was anymore. As a child she had been the ring leader of her dance class and the girl that everyone whispered and wondered about her not attending the most elite London elementary school. At eleven she had been the brat that's plans were drastically changed. Violet could hardly remember a time in her life that she was so pissed off as when she learned attendance at Hogwarts was non-compulsory. Now at seventeen who was she?
Of course she knew the basic facts about herself, but who she really was seemed blurry at times. Other times it seemed as though she was just a piece of furniture in everyone else's frantic and busy lives. More frequently she was the object of desire, although that was more in the summer months. And on the rare occasion she felt invisible, or at least wished that she was.
Her bright green eyes caught the the slightest glimpse of herself in the glass of one of the portraits hanging in the corridor - there is another thing, narcissistic -. And so she turned full on to see herself. Medium height, borderline to thin. Nearly dirty banana coloured hair half up half down, chunks falling hazardously into her face. She had too much mascara on and her eyeshadow was starting to fade. The once glossy lips were now matte. At least her uniform was pristine, although it clashed with her bag. It was a glorious bag, from Peru, made from Alpaca wool. Alex had brought back the pink, black, white, yellow, green and red wonder for her. Violet didn't even know what an alpaca was until she looked it up at the Muggle library. If only her mother could see her now, what would she say. Likely something like:
"Oh Vi Daae, you really let yourself go this time,"
Despite the underline cruelty of the words, Violet knew her tone would be warm, Olivia sucked at delivering remarks in the appropriate connotation.
Anger was rising like hot lava. Tears of self-pity wanted to spill over, but Vi wouldn't let them. Her teeth bite hard on to the plump flesh of her lips. Like thunder her hands hit the stone walls. And an uncalled for, "Shit", dashed loudly from her lips.
And then quietly, "Shit"