08-28-2008, 12:17 PM
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This is dated August 25th.
It had been raining for days. Draco had struggled with the thing he had come to do, struggled because he knew he would be facing a demon inside of himself. He had been watching the Hollow from the cover of the forest, watched the dog-like male come and leave, and listened to the sound of the rain for so long. Finally, he knew there was no more waiting. Once he did this, he could go home. Really, that was all he wanted to do. He missed the castle, he missed his family, he missed civilization and the things that had come to define him.
So he cut through the rain, which soaked his fur nearly completely through, and made his way to the shack. The thunder hid his noise, the rain hid his presence. Inside, the room smelt of musk and disease, but the rain was washing that away. Ahren was wide awake, as if expecting him. Draco narrowed his eyes, that vicious bombardier blue, and regarded him with nothing less then contempt. Though sick, he knew his father was still aware of him. His eyes told him that much.
“What are you doing here?” The blonde asked, no more then a shadow in the darkness. “Mab sent me,” Draco replied, water dripping from his mottled coat.
This made Ahren smile, though it was too dark to see. “To kill me?” He offered jokingly, though Draco’s eyes betrayed that had that been the case, he would not have hesitated. “No. She sent me to see if you were yourself again yet.”
A barking laugh cut from the shadows, and Ahren grinned. This much Draco could see, and it caused his ears to pull back in slight worry. Sick or not, he had seen the damage his father could do. “Oh, she did now? What are you gonna tell her? Your old man was locked up and dying of some mystery illness? Huh?”
“Probably,” he admitted. “She won’t let you back unless—“
“I’m not going back,” Ahren said, his voice dropping so viciously that Draco believed him. “All right. I need what Mab gave you before you left.”
Ahren grunted, and one of his hands searched blindly in the dark. When it found his bag, flung off during the struggle with his belt, he chucked it towards his son. The boy’s reflexes were remarkable, and he snatched it out of the air. “Take it,” the blonde muttered. “I don’t need it anymore.” As he spoke, Draco did just that. With the skeleton key in his hand, he pulled off a cord, looped it through, and soon had the tarnished silver around his neck. “Okay. Goodybe.”
As he turned, Ahren’s voice cut through the dark. “You hate me, don’t you?”
Draco paused, his hand on the door. Then, without a word, he pushed it open and vanished into the stormy night.
I've got to remember this is just a game
It had been raining for days. Draco had struggled with the thing he had come to do, struggled because he knew he would be facing a demon inside of himself. He had been watching the Hollow from the cover of the forest, watched the dog-like male come and leave, and listened to the sound of the rain for so long. Finally, he knew there was no more waiting. Once he did this, he could go home. Really, that was all he wanted to do. He missed the castle, he missed his family, he missed civilization and the things that had come to define him.
So he cut through the rain, which soaked his fur nearly completely through, and made his way to the shack. The thunder hid his noise, the rain hid his presence. Inside, the room smelt of musk and disease, but the rain was washing that away. Ahren was wide awake, as if expecting him. Draco narrowed his eyes, that vicious bombardier blue, and regarded him with nothing less then contempt. Though sick, he knew his father was still aware of him. His eyes told him that much.
“What are you doing here?” The blonde asked, no more then a shadow in the darkness. “Mab sent me,” Draco replied, water dripping from his mottled coat.
This made Ahren smile, though it was too dark to see. “To kill me?” He offered jokingly, though Draco’s eyes betrayed that had that been the case, he would not have hesitated. “No. She sent me to see if you were yourself again yet.”
A barking laugh cut from the shadows, and Ahren grinned. This much Draco could see, and it caused his ears to pull back in slight worry. Sick or not, he had seen the damage his father could do. “Oh, she did now? What are you gonna tell her? Your old man was locked up and dying of some mystery illness? Huh?”
“Probably,” he admitted. “She won’t let you back unless—“
“I’m not going back,” Ahren said, his voice dropping so viciously that Draco believed him. “All right. I need what Mab gave you before you left.”
Ahren grunted, and one of his hands searched blindly in the dark. When it found his bag, flung off during the struggle with his belt, he chucked it towards his son. The boy’s reflexes were remarkable, and he snatched it out of the air. “Take it,” the blonde muttered. “I don’t need it anymore.” As he spoke, Draco did just that. With the skeleton key in his hand, he pulled off a cord, looped it through, and soon had the tarnished silver around his neck. “Okay. Goodybe.”
As he turned, Ahren’s voice cut through the dark. “You hate me, don’t you?”
Draco paused, his hand on the door. Then, without a word, he pushed it open and vanished into the stormy night.