1.7 | ❝We were always destined to destroy ourselves. House Black would have never survived in the long run.❞
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THE RAIN HAD stopped at last, only to he replaced by dense Christmas snow covering ever inch of the outside world. There was not a single patch of green grass in sight and the blue of the sky had been completely blocked out by the thick grey clouds.
Elysian leaned against the edge of the wooden bridge, his arms dangling from the edge and chin resting on his bicep. His restrictions had proved to be very annoying, everyday Theo and Daphne would go to Hogsmede and would often bring him a horde of sweets and some random magical objects from Zonko's joke shop. He was grateful but he preferred to be in the village with them: sharing a butterbeer in three broomsticks, having a laugh, pointing at random people and discreetly poke fun at them.
But because his murderous uncle was on the loose he was only allowed to go for two out of the seven days in a week. Saying it got tedious was an understatement. Sure he enjoyed the library where he could bury himself in a mountain of books, but he still missed Theo blabbering about the latest quidditch season, or Daphne sharing some intriguing gossip with him.
For now he looked off into the snow covered lands. It was all pearl-white and seemed to glow with a light of its own. The trees has all dropped their orange leaves, looking completely exposed to the unforgiving cold. It wasn't a bad sight, quite pleasing to the eye in all honestly, but Elysian wasn't fond of the cold. Maybe it was because the cold would tend to remind him of the day his mother died, maybe it was simply because his body just didn't like the frigid winds in comparison to the more uplifting summer breeze. But like many questions it remained unanswered.
