Post by Aito Satoshi on Dec 1, 2012 17:11:59 GMT -5
When I Dream...It's Never Sweet.
Night fell again on the Hogwarts castle and once again, Aito found himself sitting in the window of Ravenclaw tower, staring out the window with the faintest traces of a smile upon his lips. Homework parchment and an inkwell rested on the desk beside him, all completed with an astounding accuracy for his age. The ink was drying, and he didn't feel like using magic to finish the job for him. Through the year, he'd managed to stay below the radar, out of the limelight (pay no attention to the man behind the curtain), and out of trouble. There wasn't much else he could do this year, with one year left until life came knocking.
He silently wished himself a Happy Birthday before he slid off the window sill and looked down at the dried ink before rolling up the parchment and setting the multiple scrolls into his bag for safety. Something about the late stages of fall and the early stages of winter always kept him on edge. He couldn't fall asleep, not when there were so many people to alert to his condition. That would wreck all of the work he had done to stay out of sight.
With a sigh, he slumped into the couch in the common room and looked up at the ceiling with that same small smile that seemed permanently attached to his lips. Before long, the heat of the fire made him start to let his eyes close and he felt the comfortable drift of sleep coming over his senses. He wasn't asleep long, at least not in peace. His face began to distort, beginning with a furrowing brow and trembling lips, his breath began to push harder from his lungs and his heart beat began to climb. Anxiety coursed through his veins and he felt a tightening in his throat before he sat bolt upright with unfocused, far off eyes, and gave a blood curdling shriek.
His limbs shot out propelling him over the back of the couch and onto the floor behind it. After a moment of struggle, he jumped up and took off running out of the portrait hole. His heart thundered, far faster than it ever should, and he caught himself mid stride when his body went into lock down and he fell back as the paralysis set into his blood. Eyes open and wide, tearing from the corners, stared up and unblinking at the ceiling. His lips were relaxed and still his heart pounded madly in his chest. Inevitably he would fall asleep again and wind up elsewhere.
Sure enough, his eyes closed slowly and his breathing slowed. It was nearly two hours before he climbed up to his feet and started moving through the castle with a slow amble, eyes rolled back into his skull as he walked into the cold brisk of the air outside. It did nothing to wake him and he only continued to keep walking through the grounds until he reached the edge of the lake. The water softened the ground near where his feet rested and for the longest moment he simply stood there until his hands reached out at nothing and slow steps dragged forward to bring his body into the water, cold liquid rushing up the comfort of his shoes, up past the ankles, up to his calves and then his knees.