Hogwarts Reborn: Harry Potter RPG

100 years after the Second Wizarding War, and the Death Eaters are back. Hogwarts, newly rebuilt, has to muster a new courage, for the game has changed. A new story is rising. It's a new Age, a new Life and a new Generation. It's time for a Revolution.
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 I'm no poet (Eleonora)

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Sorrow Misery Grace
Sorrow Misery Grace

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I'm no poet (Eleonora) Empty
PostSubject: I'm no poet (Eleonora)   I'm no poet (Eleonora) EmptySun Aug 17, 2014 11:11 pm

The quiet light shone just enough to illuminate the lines Sorrow was reading from a small book in his left hand. His other arm was wrapped around Eleonora where they had settled comfortably onto the soft carpet before the hearth. The furniture that usually stood there had been pushed apart and he had placed cushions on the floor to better comfort. They could still lean back into the base of one armchair and Sorrow found little support there as he shifted to let Eleonora lean further against him. He enjoyed her warmth more than he did that of the fire. Little candles flickered around the room; the flames around them and in front of them the only light to guide their eyes. Magically enchanted goblets, full with red wine, levitated just at arm’s reach. Sorrow took a sip in the pause between poems, the rich taste awakening his senses. Outside winter was melting; and seeping in through a window open a crack was the fresh scent of spring.

Fire cracked and sang in the background, the only companion to the gentle tone of Sorrow’s voice; the words grew louder and softer still at the demanding of the poem he was reading at that moment. “At that hour when all things have repose, o lonely watcher of the skies,” spoke his lips and his tongue. “Do you hear the night wind and the sighs /of harps playing unto Love to unclose the pale gates of sunrise?”

“When all things repose, do you alone awake to hear the sweet harps play /to Love before him on his way, and the night wind answering in antiphon /till night is overgone? Play on, invisible harps, unto Love, /whose way in heaven is aglow at that hour when soft lights come and go, /soft sweet music in the air above and in the earth below. ”
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Eleonora Valenta
Head of House: Hufflepuff
Eleonora Valenta

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Join date : 2013-06-23

I'm no poet (Eleonora) Empty
PostSubject: Re: I'm no poet (Eleonora)   I'm no poet (Eleonora) EmptyTue Aug 19, 2014 6:14 pm

Eleonora  could hardly keep her eyes open, though she tried desperately to cling to every word said in the dimly lit room. The music of Sorrow's voice was sounding close to her ears, rising and falling in tones so subtle that she leaned in even closer to his body in order to hear every inflection perfectly. Her hair cascaded over him as she rested her head on his shoulder and a happy sigh breathed out from her lips as her eyes fluttered, managing to keep their gaze on the twisting flames of the hearth. The flickering of the fire and the candles played in her hair, making it reminiscent of the heat that was keeping them warm.

Had time sped up the last few months? It surely felt like it.

She was busier than she had been all year with the end of the term past approaching. In just a few more months her first year at the school would be over, and the students she had poured so much heart and time into would be either moving on or leaving for the summer. There was much to do to prepare them, and Eleonora threw herself into the task with all the vigor she had. Also with the passage of time the snow melted in the forest, making it easier to traverse; she had duties to attend to within it that kept what little daylight she did not spend teaching filled. Then there were the evenings; quiet nights of grading papers were interspersed with quiet nights with Sorrow. They had grown close, and closeness evolved into comfort and stability. They were now two separate souls that could confide and rely on the other to listen and care.

She had been in relationships before, but never one quite like this. The last man she had grown close to was a coworker from the Ministry. He had come across her in her office one day and from then on visited every chance he got. He had been persistent, and eventually she had given in to his requests for a date. Things went well for some time, but he was too much for Eleonora. He dragged her out to parties and bars, introduced her to too many people too fast. Though she cared for him and found his affection endearing, she could not continue. He had taken it roughly, which hurt Eleonora more than she imagined such a thing could. After that she did not waste her time agreeing to go out, and spent no effort looking for love.

So to find it here, and to find it so strongly, was unexpected. It swept her up in a maelstrom of emotions she had always known herself capable of, yet never been able to fully experience. She knew she must love him; when that had happened she would never be certain. One of their long walks through the grounds, perhaps, or a night much like this: spent in each others embrace and talking in low voices until the dawn crept through the windows. Or maybe it had been everything all together at once. The timing did not matter, not really. It mattered only that she knew, and that she showed her devotion in any small way she could.

“Sometimes I think you must enchant your voice to make me relax. There's no way it could be so nice on its own...” She breathed her words onto Sorrow's neck, where her face had settled as she rested her head. Placing a gentle kiss where her words had just touched, Eleonora shifted herself away from Sorrow and reached for the glass of wine hovering nearby.

The wine made her dreamy, let her mind wander from place to place as if she were walking through a dense mist. “You pick the sweetest poems. What a romantic you are, Sorrow.” Leaving the glass suspended in the air, Eleonora moved back until she was again touching him. “Not that I'm complaining, of course,” she amended hurriedly. “Would you like me to read one?” She looked up at him, and how he was leaning into the hard base of the armchair. “Or grab some more cushions? Are you comfortable?” She certainly was, but right now her thoughts were more on him than herself.
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