the seven virtues [tom riddle]

chapter twenty-five

i dont like this chapter

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THE ANATOMY OF INDRA MYUNG - TEMPERANCE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

The zephyr of late autumn tousled Indra's snowy hair, having it contrast against the nuanced foliage that distorted the Black Lake's shores. As she let her body drop on the soft terrain, the lumomancer closed her eyes, allowing the radiance of the dying sunlight of November to soothe her soul, and apricity caressed her skin. She felt delicate fingers tangle in her hair, stroking her locks with feathered touches, and then they trailed down the edge of her jaw.

Rosier hummed a quiet melody as he pulled the witch's head in his lap, then went back to playing with her hair as he watched the horizon turn a deepening gloom. Scattered puffs of granite colored the cerulean sky in shadows of rainfall, and the wind picked up its pace as the sound of crisped leaves ruffling infused into that of the lake's slight waves. Ren leaned his head back against the dark bark of the tree behind him, wavy locks catching in the surface.

"How are they going to hold the Quidditch match if it is going to rain?" questioned Indra out of nowhere, turning on her elbows to gaze at the boy.

The lumomancer found it odd that they would still continue with their sports in such times, but the school had been stubborn with pretending that everything was still normal, as if two people had not died merely two weeks ago. For a while, Dippet had ruminated over the idea of canceling the season but had somewhat arrived at the conclusion that the students also needed enjoyable activities during their spare-time. Still, she was slightly excited at the notion, especially considering the fact that Scarlet had joined Gryffindor's team as a Chaser.

"Oh, we play through blizzards if necessary. Do not underestimate a Western sorcerer's devotion to Quidditch," jested the boy before pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, "And anyhow, I do not think the rain will come this far North. It seems to be heading East."

"No, it is not," mumbled the witch, "The light is slowly fading in this direction."

"You and your peculiar powers."

"You wish you had them," snorted Indra before pushing herself up and dusting her skirt off. She grimaced at its length, fully aware of the fact that numerous professors had scolded her for her earlier attempts at shortening it. What a terrible bore British fashion was, so constricted to making women appear as innocent and submissive as possible.

The witch stretched her legs, then twisted to glance at Rosier, who had a lethargic look on his face. With one frustrated expression, Indra had him jumping to his feet and following her, arms thrown around her waist and curls tickling her neck.

They made their way back into the central Courtyard, glancing around at the students that were already dressed in attire to celebrate their House teams, placing bets left and right as they made their way to the pitch. Amongst the crowd, one figure stood imperially tall, draped from head to toe in black regardless of the typical attire amongst classmates, and solemn eyes searched the group for something, as if he were lost in a foreign sea, gripping to his lifeboat to prevent himself from falling amidst the western cultural shock.