Post by Scot Sola on Apr 16, 2011 20:58:28 GMT -6
Scot Sola was lying in the sun on the bank of the Black Lake, humming softly to himself. His eyes were closed and he had one leg balanced on the other, and looked rather composed.
This was not unusual, given the young Irishman's penchant for lazing about idly when not otherwise occupied by school. He was a Seventh Year, so he naturally had to put in some degree of effort to stay afloat in all of his classes, but he did not find any of them overtly difficult, save for Defense Against the Dark arts, whose Professor seemed to be very skilled at giving everyone a hard time.
Due to Scot's natural dislike for authority, he didn't fucking like that.
But, at the moment, he was altogether unconcerned with any sort of schooling and was instead spending the nice weather lying about with utter lackadais, his natural state during most of his stay at Hogwarts.
At some point, he fell asleep, as he tended to, and dreamt.
This dream was, it so happened, fairly regular for Scot.
He was wandering around the countryside of his native Cork, in normal, muggle clothing, hands in his pockets, smoking a cigarette. He stopped and wandered off the beaten path to take a piss, and all of a sudden the sky darkened quickly. Scot found this to be slightly unusual. "What the fuck," he wandered aloud, and then put his junk back in his pants, and walked onto the path, looking around. The sun was a deep, bloody red, and the sky was as if on fire. He looked up at it, and then back down, and there was a figure a good deal ahead on the road, standing in the middle of it, wearing a white dress.
Scot blinked a few times, wondering who this was and why he was put off by their presence, but he approached them anyway, being the amiable sort of person.
"Howdy, lass," Scot said, once he was a few feet from the woman, and stopped in his tracts, waiting for a response. He noticed that the girl had black hair apart from her white dress--which was fucking blinding, what the hell--and was paler than Scot. Thankfully he had a slight tan from the sunlight, even though that was fucked now, but still.
"Hello?" Scot ventured again, when the girl didn't say anything to him. He put a hand on her shoulder gently, and then all of a sudden his hand was on fire, and he couldn't remove it, and Oh God the pain--
Scot jerked awake, sitting up rapidly, blinking a whole bunch of times, then looking around.
Realizing he had fallen asleep--and having wholly forgotten the dream already--he lay back, grumbling in Irish.
This was not unusual, given the young Irishman's penchant for lazing about idly when not otherwise occupied by school. He was a Seventh Year, so he naturally had to put in some degree of effort to stay afloat in all of his classes, but he did not find any of them overtly difficult, save for Defense Against the Dark arts, whose Professor seemed to be very skilled at giving everyone a hard time.
Due to Scot's natural dislike for authority, he didn't fucking like that.
But, at the moment, he was altogether unconcerned with any sort of schooling and was instead spending the nice weather lying about with utter lackadais, his natural state during most of his stay at Hogwarts.
At some point, he fell asleep, as he tended to, and dreamt.
This dream was, it so happened, fairly regular for Scot.
He was wandering around the countryside of his native Cork, in normal, muggle clothing, hands in his pockets, smoking a cigarette. He stopped and wandered off the beaten path to take a piss, and all of a sudden the sky darkened quickly. Scot found this to be slightly unusual. "What the fuck," he wandered aloud, and then put his junk back in his pants, and walked onto the path, looking around. The sun was a deep, bloody red, and the sky was as if on fire. He looked up at it, and then back down, and there was a figure a good deal ahead on the road, standing in the middle of it, wearing a white dress.
Scot blinked a few times, wondering who this was and why he was put off by their presence, but he approached them anyway, being the amiable sort of person.
"Howdy, lass," Scot said, once he was a few feet from the woman, and stopped in his tracts, waiting for a response. He noticed that the girl had black hair apart from her white dress--which was fucking blinding, what the hell--and was paler than Scot. Thankfully he had a slight tan from the sunlight, even though that was fucked now, but still.
"Hello?" Scot ventured again, when the girl didn't say anything to him. He put a hand on her shoulder gently, and then all of a sudden his hand was on fire, and he couldn't remove it, and Oh God the pain--
Scot jerked awake, sitting up rapidly, blinking a whole bunch of times, then looking around.
Realizing he had fallen asleep--and having wholly forgotten the dream already--he lay back, grumbling in Irish.