Post by claire on Aug 25, 2008 22:02:04 GMT -5
Claire lay on her back on the grass, in the sun. She loved the gardens at Hogwarts, and always came here when she didn't know what else to do, or where else to go. Even in the winter the gardens were beautiful, but in the spring they were especially magical. It was autumn now, though, and she was surrounded by fading roses and blooming morning glories. It was so lovely here, so peaceful and quiet. Closing her eyes, she breathed in the delicate scent of the roses as the wind ruffled her hair, and blew a few pale pink petals into her chocolaty curls.
She didn't really know why she was here now, it was afternoon, and none of her friends had class right now, so Claire could easily have found any one of them, if she'd looked. But she hadn't, for whatever reason, and so was alone with the flowers and autumn wind in the gardens.
Maybe it was because she sometimes felt trapped in the need to socialize with everyone, all the time, whether or not she actually liked the person. It was her own fault, though, she just couldn't say 'no' or avoid people, she always felt horribly mean doing so, and therefore just didn't. Or maybe it was because she'd gotten another owl from Stephen, which she'd promptly burned unopened. She didn't know how he got ahold of owls to send to her, but she'd never plucked up the courage to ask. Besides, whenever she was 'home' at Stephen's for the summer holidays, she spent most of her time barricading herself in her room, sending her friends owls telling them what a lovely summer she was having. Otherwise, Claire knew they'd probably try to come find her, and that was the last thing she wanted. Not that she didn't want to get out of the house, she did, but she didn't want to have to let anyone into that part of her life. Telling her friends would mean having to accept that it was reality, and she never wanted to do that.
With a sigh of content, she stretched out a hand and plucked a wilting white rose from a nearby bush. Pricking her finger on a thorn, she promptly dropped the newly-picked rose and looked at her finger, sitting up and squinting in the sunlight. Seeing that the thorn wasn't embedded in her finger, Claire ignored the tiny droplet of blood and picked up the flower again, aimlessly beginning to pull the petals off one at a time, watching them fall onto the green grass beneath her.
Once finished demolishing the faded white rose, Claire tossed the browning stem away. She stood up and brushed dirt and stray grass particles from her jeans, shaking flower petals from her hair. She managed to shake most, but not all, the petals from her thick curls, but as she had no mirror (nor cared much) she didn't bother seeing if she'd removed them all. Humming softly to herself she meandered around the garden slowly, taking in the pleasant day.
She didn't really know why she was here now, it was afternoon, and none of her friends had class right now, so Claire could easily have found any one of them, if she'd looked. But she hadn't, for whatever reason, and so was alone with the flowers and autumn wind in the gardens.
Maybe it was because she sometimes felt trapped in the need to socialize with everyone, all the time, whether or not she actually liked the person. It was her own fault, though, she just couldn't say 'no' or avoid people, she always felt horribly mean doing so, and therefore just didn't. Or maybe it was because she'd gotten another owl from Stephen, which she'd promptly burned unopened. She didn't know how he got ahold of owls to send to her, but she'd never plucked up the courage to ask. Besides, whenever she was 'home' at Stephen's for the summer holidays, she spent most of her time barricading herself in her room, sending her friends owls telling them what a lovely summer she was having. Otherwise, Claire knew they'd probably try to come find her, and that was the last thing she wanted. Not that she didn't want to get out of the house, she did, but she didn't want to have to let anyone into that part of her life. Telling her friends would mean having to accept that it was reality, and she never wanted to do that.
With a sigh of content, she stretched out a hand and plucked a wilting white rose from a nearby bush. Pricking her finger on a thorn, she promptly dropped the newly-picked rose and looked at her finger, sitting up and squinting in the sunlight. Seeing that the thorn wasn't embedded in her finger, Claire ignored the tiny droplet of blood and picked up the flower again, aimlessly beginning to pull the petals off one at a time, watching them fall onto the green grass beneath her.
Once finished demolishing the faded white rose, Claire tossed the browning stem away. She stood up and brushed dirt and stray grass particles from her jeans, shaking flower petals from her hair. She managed to shake most, but not all, the petals from her thick curls, but as she had no mirror (nor cared much) she didn't bother seeing if she'd removed them all. Humming softly to herself she meandered around the garden slowly, taking in the pleasant day.