Slytherin
Chaser 3rd Year
18
posts
9
likes
❝ We don't need friends, they're all gonna die anyway.❞
|
Post by Delilah Vizztail on Jun 4, 2016 8:15:45 GMT -5
Smoke trickles from the rooftops, grey and ascending, a wisp of death escaping a lit cigarette. Delilah tilts her head back and let the nicotine sink into her. An addiction is the act of losing yourself in a moment of recreation and suicide, dying as a daydreamer. But these roof toppers do it anyway. Delilah spent this morning on the cold bricks on top of the school, along with a clique of students, the disciples of Melpomene, outsiders who ditch their first lessons to come up here. Hours could be spent under the sky, chain smoking and cloud gazing, watching the shadows that collapse under cotton balls of rain. The Hogwarts grounds stretch over the horizon, dark bleak forest pushed aside and the stone castle looms over the lake, but for these students, this sites seem comforting to the dystopia in their heads. Depression, innit? Now, a few of the boys had gotten up, their knuckles granite grey from the mist. they walked, fingers laced together, to the edge of the rooftop where they looked underneath them. a few girls with nose rings and grim eyes got onto their elbows and sat up to to see what they were doing. Their skin peeling from the cigarette ashes and the wind bites their uncovered arms. Delilah had stopped lotus-watching and brought her knees up to her neck, she and the girl next to her blew out their old tobacco fingers and Delilah lit another one for her silent friend. She didn't light a new one for herself. The boys swung their feet over edge. The three sat with their thighs just over the roof and their boots dangling over space. Nothing happened for a while, as these adolescents don't really talk, ever. Until
|
|