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Anyone But You [Isis]
Topic Started: Nov 29 2009, 11:58 AM (350 Views)
Ren Fendigaidd
Member Avatar
Fifth Year
Ren was not really in the mood to see Isis Frost, but that was the first person she saw when she walked into the study hall. The only person. Her lips pursed together and a little line creased the space between her eyes. Just her luck. All she had wanted to do today was find a quiet place to sit and do her homework. She had very little of it so early in the year and it would hardly take her half an hour to complete if she really worked through it, but it was a convenient excuse to isolate herself. She could take her time over the words, do a little background research from the books she had checked out, proofread five times until she was changing sentences back again. The longer she spent poring over meaningless details, the longer her brain would focus on something, anything other than Rhodri. Though she would never want truly to forget him, her flickering sanity required her to take a break from constant thoughts of him. There was his face always before her eyes, a ghostly flash of pale skin and translucent eyelids and that dreadful stiff black suit they had buried him in.

She was already terrible at keeping those thoughts away, but she had almost shoved them from her mind with ideas about what to write for her History of Magic essay. Until she walked into the study hall. There she was, her best friend. Best friend. It was difficult to remember that now. Fresh agony had given way to avoidance and finally to silence. The past few months had made them strangers--Isis and Ren, who were once so close. One of the only people that she trusted had become one of the people she least wanted to see. She had made the first tear, blaming Isis for her father's alignment with the Dark wizards, blaming her and her family for leading to Rhodri's death. It was not quite fair, especially since she had never really said anything to Isis before pulling away. But she had been unable to look at her friend's face without thinking of her family and their connections and what they had caused, and suddenly, she was just not talking to her anymore. She had just disappeared.

A deep, lasting part of Ren missed her best friend and ached to apologize and plead for her understanding in this time when she needed someone to keep her together, but that part was hidden under strong layers of anger and betrayal and pride, always pride. She needed someone tangible to blame for her brother's murder, and Isis was an easy scapegoat. And she was here, right in front of her eyes. Suddenly, her quiet study day turned into a flood of searing memories that pushed color into her cheeks and blood into the vein pulsing in her neck. She wanted to flee, but she had been standing there long enough, staring, that it would seem awkward and childish. With all her muscles tense, her movements mechanical, she stepped into the study hall and found a seat not too far from Isis to seem obviously avoidant, but not so close that she would have to face her. "Good afternoon," she said quietly as she passed, a bare attempt at friendliness. There, her duties were fulfilled. There was no way after months of avoidance that Isis did not know something was wrong, but Ren could not bring herself to mention it. Turning away from Isis in her chair, she pulled out a roll of parchment and a quill and then fumbled for a bottle of ink. But her hands were too shaky and the glass slipped from her hands and smashed into the table, spilling ink and tiny glass shards all over her paper and her lap. "Dammit!" she swore loudly without thinking, one hand flying to her pocket in search of her wand.
Edited by Ren Fendigaidd, Nov 29 2009, 02:09 PM.
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Broken . Cold as Ice . Isolated . Profile . Raven . Sixth Year . Sixteen
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Isis Frost
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Not who you think I am.

Isis sighed at the briefness of her father's letter. She remembered how long he had held onto her on her first day at Hogwarts, just before she'd gotten onto the train. He held her hand so tightly she almost winced in pain, and the only reason Isis was able to actually get on the train was because her mother thought that he was showing too much emotion in public. She used to be the apple of his eye, his absolute favorite thing in the world, but ever since the Mistress took over the damn world that was all he cared about. Now he only cared about Isis for as much as she could do for him. And for the longest time, she tried her hardest to please him. She still did. Because sometimes she could still see her father in him, and then it seemed alright. But then he would become consumed by his work. The Ministry. The Mistress. And then Issy's mother wasn't so jealous of her daughter anymore. Then again, she still wasn't getting any attention, but it wasn't anyone's fault but her own. Elladora Dranzer was never the lucky one, though it would seem that her daughter was. Isis was blessed with the looks of a model, with the wit of any man. She proved not to be another spoiled brat who couldn't tell the barn side of a broad. Even the Mistress herself was interested in her, giving her assignments as if she were actually a part of her Dark Force.

The letter crumpling tight in her hand, Isis kept her eyes peeled for her Wolfewood, who she was once again on speaking terms with. She could use him to let off steam in the form of a nice shag in a random broom closet, but he was no where to be found and she really didn't feel like looking for him. Perseus was busy with his overly clingy girlfriend, of course. Not to mention her cousin had been curiously absent lately, so Isis was quite bored. Isis began to head down to the Study Hall to finish her work, at first hoping to find Tabby or Ren - Ren. The Raven winced at the thought of her very best friend. Could she still even call her that? She had lost her brother at Hogwarts, even though she had remembered hinting about getting out of the castle that weekend. What was he even doing there? Isis had warned everyone she had cared about... And now one of her very best friends probably hated her. Isis wasn't sure how she felt about this. She knew that she was supposed to be strong and not give a damn, but after spending six years as her dormmate and best friend, it was hard. Hard enough to bring the emotion into her throat like bile when Ren walked into the Study Hall with only two words for her. Isis sat there for a moment, her quill paused in her hand, before standing up defiantly. There was only a moment's hesitation before she moved over to where the girl had spilled her ink bottle. Issy's wand was out quickly, and she whispered a spell that repaired the inkwell, along with the ink inside. "Ren..." she said, trailing off and biting her lip. What did you say in a time like this? "I... I just wanted to," she started, looking away for a moment, "I wanted to talk to you." Isis, proud, beautiful Isis, was showing remorse. There really was a first for everything.
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Ren Fendigaidd
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Fifth Year
[[Ugh, sorry this fails but I'm so uninspired right now.]]




Ren surveyed the shattered remains of her ink bottle, the tiny glass pieces glittering like stars in a sky of bleeding

black. Her frantic search for her wand had stopped as soon as she heard the footsteps trample near to her, and

then she was still, quiet, staring at her desk as the ink trickled onto her robes and speckled the floor. She didn't really care. Even though she spent time with a snobbish sort of crowd, she was never the kind of girl who worried after her clothes and appearance. She was quite pretty without bothering herself over makeup and fancy outfits, she knew that. Unless it was really necessary, she'd just as soon wear ragged old trousers as a party dress. Besides, pretending to quietly dab ink off her lap with her sleeve gave her a decent excuse to look down while her best friend approached. If that was the term for Isis anymore. After Hogwarts, Ren was not so sure about anything in her life. Not a day passed without Rhodri's face flashing before Ren's eyes, compounding a scream in the back of her throat that never became audible. Every day she swallowed it down with bile and bitterness, every day she flung herself into one pursuit after another. Every day she turned cold smiles to the people she used to call friends, locked in an antisocial numbness that would not admit company.

The one person she hated and missed the most was Isis, and she knew their rift was her fault. As soon as the attack hit, Ren knew that Isis' family was involved. Isis had told her to get out. Warned her. Knew that something was going to happen. But Rhodri would not accept her vague hints of warning, not when his friends might suffer something without him. He died protecting his friends, while Ren, armed with her coward's knowledge, safeguarded her own life. By the time she looked for him, it was far too late. Blaming herself had trapped her in a pit of depression that had only intensified with time. She could hardly eat and sleep was plagued with nightmares. Every activity in the waking world was met with a blank face and a listless manner. Her family, usually her greatest comfort, was in shambles, her mother crying in her room every day, her father throwing himself into his work, Braith cold and silent, Aled spending long hours at the pubs. Ren's only relief from self-loathing was to loathe Isis. Her hatred had grown like a thorny bush in her stomach over the summer, poisoning every thought of the girl she had, stretching its tendrils to everyone she knew. But as Ren tentatively raised her eyes to Isis now, a pang of guilt and loss seared across her stomach. "Ren..."

Ren's eyes flicked back to the ink bottle, whole now. They were dull and glassy, as lifeless as the sickly wax of her skin. Her skin goosebumped like she had just jumped in a vat of ice water. Isis, her best friend. She had pushed her away, found refuge in hating her. Now, half of her still burned with that hatred, clenching her lungs with it until she could scarcely breathe, but the other half was a miserable nausea, a fear that she had lost the only person who could help her. The person she could not help but care about. When her eyes raised to Isis again, they were glossy. "I... I just wanted to. I wanted to talk to you." A word of forgiveness was quickly withered on her tongue. She couldn't give in to that softness now. Rising stiffly from her desk to put herself on the same level as Isis, she said, blankly, "Then talk. I assure you I have nothing to say." The thorns dug into her insides. Isis. Servant to her brother's murderer, for all she knew. She couldn't afford to trust her again. But she couldn't bear to walk away. Despite the hardness in her expression, there was a soft pleading there, just barely existent in the tiny quiver of her lip. Her fists balled at her sides.
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Broken . Cold as Ice . Isolated . Profile . Raven . Sixth Year . Sixteen
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