Post by Aramorta Riddle {HM} on Jul 21, 2009 13:55:44 GMT -5
Monday mornings, they suck even when school isn't in session. Then again, when you practically never get a rest from working, every morning sucks, no matter what time of the year. Every morning seems the same. No, not seems. Every morning is the same, or rather, starts the same.
A cold hand touched her shoulder, gripping it and shaking her. Aramorta attempted to roll over, but got no where. The grasp on her shoulder tightened, holding her in place. Mumbling, she raised a hand and smacked toward the person, though all she hit was air. "Aramorta, wake up," she was shaken again, more roughly this time. "Fuck off, asshole, I'm trying to read!" she was clearly still asleep, though the words were spat out as if in irritation. The force of the smack across her face caused her to literally jump up, eyes wide in surprise. "Wha...?" Aramorta rubbed the side of her face where it was actually red. "Get up, get dressed, meet me in the kitchen in two minutes," he hissed the order, before spinning around and disappearing down the hall.
Aramorta rushed to get dressed, randomly pulling out clothes from her closet and throwing it on. She dashed down the hall, tying the back of her corseted black and silver dress as she went. "You're late," he said coldly. Aramorta's jaw dropped and she looked at the clock. It had hit the three minute point right as she walked into the room. Biting back a smart-ass retort, she nodded. "It won't happen again," she said quietly. Bowing her head, she followed him out into the front yard, where he apparated them away from the manor.
It was back to the old, abandoned house they had been using the past week. The Dark Lord did not want anyone eavesdropping. Even if they would be caught instantly, it was better to not even have to worry about curious Death Eaters trying to spy. What he was teaching her was to stay between the two of them. Today would have been an exceptionally bad to for watchers. They were simply reviewing everything she had learned so far, and having some practice duels. Practice which was far to close to real. By the time they apparated back home, Aramorta was covered in blood and bruises.
As her father went upstairs, Aramorta did not follow him. She turned left into the kitchen instead. Gathering a few little bottles of potions from the cupboards, she then took a seat at the table and began examining her wounds. Flicking her wand, she summoned a mirror. Looking into the mirror, she decided to start with her face for the healing. A thin line of blood flowed from both slitted nostrils, her bottom lip and right eye were swollen, and the rest of her face was covered in cuts and blue-black spots. As she got going with sealing all of the gashes first, she became so concentrated on not messing up, that she did not even notice someone else enter the kitchen.
A cold hand touched her shoulder, gripping it and shaking her. Aramorta attempted to roll over, but got no where. The grasp on her shoulder tightened, holding her in place. Mumbling, she raised a hand and smacked toward the person, though all she hit was air. "Aramorta, wake up," she was shaken again, more roughly this time. "Fuck off, asshole, I'm trying to read!" she was clearly still asleep, though the words were spat out as if in irritation. The force of the smack across her face caused her to literally jump up, eyes wide in surprise. "Wha...?" Aramorta rubbed the side of her face where it was actually red. "Get up, get dressed, meet me in the kitchen in two minutes," he hissed the order, before spinning around and disappearing down the hall.
Aramorta rushed to get dressed, randomly pulling out clothes from her closet and throwing it on. She dashed down the hall, tying the back of her corseted black and silver dress as she went. "You're late," he said coldly. Aramorta's jaw dropped and she looked at the clock. It had hit the three minute point right as she walked into the room. Biting back a smart-ass retort, she nodded. "It won't happen again," she said quietly. Bowing her head, she followed him out into the front yard, where he apparated them away from the manor.
It was back to the old, abandoned house they had been using the past week. The Dark Lord did not want anyone eavesdropping. Even if they would be caught instantly, it was better to not even have to worry about curious Death Eaters trying to spy. What he was teaching her was to stay between the two of them. Today would have been an exceptionally bad to for watchers. They were simply reviewing everything she had learned so far, and having some practice duels. Practice which was far to close to real. By the time they apparated back home, Aramorta was covered in blood and bruises.
As her father went upstairs, Aramorta did not follow him. She turned left into the kitchen instead. Gathering a few little bottles of potions from the cupboards, she then took a seat at the table and began examining her wounds. Flicking her wand, she summoned a mirror. Looking into the mirror, she decided to start with her face for the healing. A thin line of blood flowed from both slitted nostrils, her bottom lip and right eye were swollen, and the rest of her face was covered in cuts and blue-black spots. As she got going with sealing all of the gashes first, she became so concentrated on not messing up, that she did not even notice someone else enter the kitchen.
