SA - The Crows
Name: The Crows
Prompt: #
Genre: Dark humour
Characters: Rostislav Lestrange, Rashnu Lestrange, random woman
Rating: PG
Word Count: 282
Summary/Author's Note: I've had this plot bunny for so long, I've only just managed to get it into a fic. Rashnu is shotgundivorce's brainchild. This characterisation/naming of Rodolphus Lestrange's kid Rostislav is mine. Let me know what you think! / Rostislav hated her. She had to die.
Rostislav hated her. She had to die.
“What are you drawing, little one?”
Circe, she was being patronising. As if Rostis had ever been spoken to that way in his life. He kept his head down and carried on drawing. He wasn’t going to look up for this woman. She wasn’t worth his time. Rashnu wasn’t too bothered by his grandson’s reaction to her. He was surprised either.
The lady turned to Rashnu and whispered loudly, “I’m not sure he likes me.” Still looking down, Rostis rolled his eyes, she really was stupid. His pencil continued to dance its way across the page. It was starting to get darker and darker, the paper filled with thick black lines. Even if he had liked this woman she wouldn’t have seen what he was drawing. Not until it was finished, anyway.
Rashnu had begin to make some sort of conversation with her. He didn’t seem truly interested in talking to her but he’d talk to her anyway. He was like that. A few minutes later, the conversation trailed off as Rostislav slid his artwork across the table top and in front of the lady. She smiled at first but her face fell within moments.
Without saying anything, Rostislav stepped down from the table and wandered off, a small smile flashing in his eyes. The lady hadn’t said anything. She simply stared at the picture in front of her. It showed her - it was definitely her, Rostis had drawn her features to perfection - being mobbed by a flock of crows, and losing half of her head and hair. Rashnu pursed his lips, trying hard not to smile. Rostis’ father would have been proud.
Prompt: #
Genre: Dark humour
Characters: Rostislav Lestrange, Rashnu Lestrange, random woman
Rating: PG
Word Count: 282
Summary/Author's Note: I've had this plot bunny for so long, I've only just managed to get it into a fic. Rashnu is shotgundivorce's brainchild. This characterisation/naming of Rodolphus Lestrange's kid Rostislav is mine. Let me know what you think! / Rostislav hated her. She had to die.
Rostislav hated her. She had to die.
“What are you drawing, little one?”
Circe, she was being patronising. As if Rostis had ever been spoken to that way in his life. He kept his head down and carried on drawing. He wasn’t going to look up for this woman. She wasn’t worth his time. Rashnu wasn’t too bothered by his grandson’s reaction to her. He was surprised either.
The lady turned to Rashnu and whispered loudly, “I’m not sure he likes me.” Still looking down, Rostis rolled his eyes, she really was stupid. His pencil continued to dance its way across the page. It was starting to get darker and darker, the paper filled with thick black lines. Even if he had liked this woman she wouldn’t have seen what he was drawing. Not until it was finished, anyway.
Rashnu had begin to make some sort of conversation with her. He didn’t seem truly interested in talking to her but he’d talk to her anyway. He was like that. A few minutes later, the conversation trailed off as Rostislav slid his artwork across the table top and in front of the lady. She smiled at first but her face fell within moments.
Without saying anything, Rostislav stepped down from the table and wandered off, a small smile flashing in his eyes. The lady hadn’t said anything. She simply stared at the picture in front of her. It showed her - it was definitely her, Rostis had drawn her features to perfection - being mobbed by a flock of crows, and losing half of her head and hair. Rashnu pursed his lips, trying hard not to smile. Rostis’ father would have been proud.