painted blue [open]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 320px; background: #E9E9E9; -moz-border-radius: 22px 22px 22px 22px; -o-border-radius: 20px 20px 20px 20px; -webkit-border-radius: 22px 22px 22px 22px; border-radius: 22px 22px 22px 22px; border-bottom: #1A1A1A solid 6px; border-right: #1A1A1A solid 6px; border-left: #1A1A1A solid 6px; border-top: #1A1A1A solid 6px; text-align: justify; color: black; padding: 5px;] "Saigo no KISU wa tabako no flavor ga shita, Nigakute setsunai kaori" She hated this song. She really did. Yet she loved it. She loved the way how the words would just flow out of her mouth naturally. She hated the lyrics. The lyrics meant nothing to her. This song was about someone's first love. Ha. She hardly doubted that her first and only boyfriend was her first love. If he was, then hell was she ever going to 'love again'. Not like she was going to consider trying. Not when she was so hideous. Just so unattractive. That's how she saw herself. That's how the rest of the school saw her and that's what she believed. Hell, the pastel gripped in her fingers was more attractive despite being blotched with other colors she accidentally mixed. The colors were so alive, so vibrant unlike her. She was just painted blue. Just everything about her was blue. From her hair color, to her eye color and even the color of the house she 'belonged' in. Blue. Like the veins that ran through her body. The lack of oxygen to turn her blood red. "Ashita no imagoro ni wa, Anata wa doko ni irundarou, Dare wo omotterundarou" Her blue pastel remained untouched. She seemed to use any color but that. Her painted skies were purple. Her water reflected her purple skies. They weren't blue like her. She hesitated at her green. Practically the color of life. Two lives were gone. Her only sister and the life of her unborn child. She paused her singing as she placed a hand on top of her stomach, smearing the pastels onto her white shirt. She didn't seem to notice, all she could think about was the miscarriage she had two years ago. Her child was gone. His child was gone. She bit her lip, it was probably for the best. She didn't need a constant reminder of the man who destroyed her life. The one who deemed her unworthy. Yet she also felt a part of her was missing. Something that was once a part of her physically. She removed her hand from her stomach and picked up her pastel once more. Red. She was adding a gradient to her sky. "You are always gonna be my love" Yeah right. She would rather burn in hell, which she was probably going to do anyways. Everything in heaven was supposed to be beautiful. She was just ugly. Her ugly blue. [/style]

[style=margin-left:-15px;width:100px;height:100px;border: 5px solid A8A9A7;][/style][style=width:366px;border-bottom: 1px dashed A8A9A7;margin-top:-66px;text-align:right;text-transform:uppercase; color:AF8483;]trouble's what feels good to me[/style][style=width:350px; border-left: 5px double A8A9A7; font-size:10px; padding-left:10px; padding-top:15px;margin-top:45px; text-transform:lowercase; padding-bottom:1px;]

There was never a rhyme or reason for his walks, though he pondered upon them. The fifth floor was not a place he had visited often, though it was the destination. It had been a long day, for the most part he had done nothing but homework. His assignment and after all the reasoning he had given though left him with requirements in which went against his own pre-requisites when it came to how he felt about well, working on projects and with others in general. "hmm?" It was just odd, very soft, and very much clear. A woman, a girl singing a tune. It was not a language he had typically heard in Hogwarts granted it was a diverse school most people never really went out of their way to sing in tongues.

Upon his further investigation, it was a venture he would take into the art room, and before him was the woman he had business with. She had a soft voice, and clearly not one for confrontation. Cygnus himself had very cold eyes, and did not seem friendly at all, then again he had never really attempted to be. Coughing slightly he stepped aside from the door in hopes that she would not have noticed the noise. He never liked one on one confrontation with women, he assumed they were all crazy, even the emotionally damaged ones. He never really went out of his way to do these things, but he simply had to express his distaste for what he had to do for his next assignment. "Hello, you are Echo...the one in my potions class correct?"

He awkwardly awaited a response as he stood there with a stern look and his monotone voice, though it was soft and he was polite and well spoken, he could not help the depth of his cold eyes. "You have a fine voice." Not knowing really what to say after asking an odd question, he simply could only follow up with a compliment.

His face reddened slightly, this was called embarrassment, an emotion he had learned much in his childhood. He remembers Echo in the same way, he was very much awkward, and she was well always very much afraid. He had come to being a man of few words and when he was mocked for it now he is just looked upon oddly. She was probably one of those who looked upon him oddly. His face composed itself and his eyes once again grew stern, thinking back to the letter of the assignment. He straightened up and entered the door.

[/style][style=width:366px;text-align:right;text-size:8px; text-transform:uppercase; color:AF8483;font-size:8px;]made by reece of OTE

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 320px; background: #E9E9E9; -moz-border-radius: 22px 22px 22px 22px; -o-border-radius: 20px 20px 20px 20px; -webkit-border-radius: 22px 22px 22px 22px; border-radius: 22px 22px 22px 22px; border-bottom: #1A1A1A solid 6px; border-right: #1A1A1A solid 6px; border-left: #1A1A1A solid 6px; border-top: #1A1A1A solid 6px; text-align: justify; color: black; padding: 5px;] Echo flinched. She heard a cough, or maybe it was just her imagination. She ignored it and continued her painting until she heard someone speak up. She dropped her pastel and watched it land with the other colors. It seemed natural enough. Echo turned around to spot a familiar looking blue-headed male. She recognized him, but couldn't remember his name. Not that she bothered to remember anyone's name anymore, but apparently he knew who she was without even seeing her face. She grimaced at the thought that she was so easily recognizable. It must have been the hair color, or just because she was half-veela. She didn't want to talk to him. Hell if anything she wished she wasn't here, or more like wished he didn't show up here. She was here first, what gave him the right to bother her. Oh yeah, it was an open classroom, but it didn't seem like he came here to utilize the equipment. "That would be me," Echo replied, turning around again to concentrate on her canvas. She picked up her pastel once more and went back to her painting. She wasn't intentionally being rude, she just didn't have much contact with people anymore. Echo didn't want to have a longer conversation than what was needed. She had no business with him. "You have a fine voice." Echo bit her lip. She wasn't used to actually kind compliments at least the ones that didn't hint any sarcasm in them. But this also meant that he heard her sing. He was listening to her. Echo almost never sang with an audience if she could help it. Any audience was either unwanted or unexpected. As soon as there was one she would stop singing, yet she didn't notice him fast enough. She heard his footsteps, he wasn't leaving. This slightly anger her. Her peace was being disturbed by this kid, but she would be nice. He probably wasn't a bad person, but still. Echo didn't like men, at all. As long as he kept his distance, she would be fine. If he came close, she couldn't help it if she started to tremble in fear. Her body just naturally reacted that way. It was a defense mechanism to what had happened before. "The Professor isn't here," Echo didn't bother to thank him for his compliment. It was long gone from her mind by now. [/style]

[style=margin-left:-15px;width:100px;height:100px;border: 5px solid A8A9A7;][/style][style=width:366px;border-bottom: 1px dashed A8A9A7;margin-top:-66px;text-align:right;text-transform:uppercase; color:AF8483;]trouble's what feels good to me[/style][style=width:350px; border-left: 5px double A8A9A7; font-size:10px; padding-left:10px; padding-top:15px;margin-top:45px; text-transform:lowercase; padding-bottom:1px;]

It was something about the situation that was naturally tense, she was very much like Cygnus in her own way. He wouldn't notice though, one goal was very much in mind, to get her to agree with expressing distaste towards working with him. Cygnus was never one struck by anything though, her outward or tension filled aura seemed slightly stand-offish, though he didn't read into these types of feelings well, nor did he really care when someone would as much so come off this way. He was the best thus a pure being and never would falter under any circumstance. Coughing slightly he had heard the girl state the obvious.

"Well see I can clearly see that...But my business isn't to harass, I don't have such adolescent activities." He himself was young, though had the need to carry himself in this manner about well all of the time. Cygnus fixed his tie slightly keeping his distance due to her obvious irritations, now it was that feeling he read into well. He very much intended to be and work alone, he identified. She was tucking herself away in her little song and painting. Cygnus could see very well see that for himself. He stood straight his eyes still cold and his form tall and slender.

"Well I must express my distaste in having a partner in my potions class. Nothing against you personally, from what I here you are exceptionally bright even for ravenclaw standards..." He knew Slytherin wasn't a house for the brightest, though he had much pride. He would at quiet chances remind the other houses who were the finest all around, on a quest for glory was Slytherin by any means. He continued "But professor Irving doesn't seem to understand that I prefer to work on my own, so if you must I'm asking you to tell him you wish to do the same."

People weren't his thing, he had his brothers and a few housemates from Slytherin. For the most part he didn't converse with anyone in the schools. Always found studying or practicing his arts there was never really much time for activity such as socializing.

[/style][style=width:366px;text-align:right;text-size:8px; text-transform:uppercase; color:AF8483;font-size:8px;]made by reece of OTE

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 320px; background: #E9E9E9; -moz-border-radius: 22px 22px 22px 22px; -o-border-radius: 20px 20px 20px 20px; -webkit-border-radius: 22px 22px 22px 22px; border-radius: 22px 22px 22px 22px; border-bottom: #1A1A1A solid 6px; border-right: #1A1A1A solid 6px; border-left: #1A1A1A solid 6px; border-top: #1A1A1A solid 6px; text-align: justify; color: black; padding: 5px;] Her left eye twitched. Did he really come all the way here, looking for her just to tell her that? He must have been very desperate. Yet it hurt to know that he was so desperate not to have her as his partner. Not that she didn't try to get out of it herself. But yet it just reminded her of who she was, and what she was. However, the tears didn't come out. She learned to control them -- most of the time. When it came from her family, her heart would pour out. Hell, she didn't even remember who he was to begin with. What was his name anyways? "You don't think I've already tried?" Echo replied coldly. She didn't care, he wasn't worth her time. He was just another one of those. Those people who made her this way. They were the insensitive people. It was their fault they made her do what she did that led to her sister's death. Her heart constricted, the pain a little overbearing, but she just stood there. She picked up her red, because that was the color she was feeling. Echo furiously started painting with it, unsure of what she was doing, merely just expressing herself. "Don't worry though, you do your own thing and I'll do mine. I don't plan on working with you anyways," Echo added. It was the truth. She detested men. They did whatever they wanted to without a care in the world. They didn't have the emotional intelligence to understand a girl. They were heartless creatures. All of them. Echo refused to look at him. He wasn't important, but her painting was. All he had to do was leave, leave her alone. If he had better things to do than harass, then he had better things to do than find her. There should have been no reason for him to come looking for her. He could have merely told her in class. [/style]