RP: My Eyes
Characters: Cho Chang
Location: Flat
Date: October 28th, 1999
Status/Warning: Closed
Summary: Cho asks a small, likely futile favor of Tamarind.
Completion: Complete.
"Tamarind."
The bird hissed, flapping his wings, and disappeared behind the couch.
"Tamarind, I..."
Silence.
"I need you to do something for me."
For a few minutes, nothing but the shimmer of dust in the air. Out the window Cho watched a family appear in the street, laughing together, and then vanish to the left of the frame; craning her neck after them, she let out a heavy breath. The apartment lay still. Her wrists and fingers ached with the weight of it. She fiddled with the fabric of her skirt, brushing at the red tights underneath, and stood. After a moment of silence the owl grudgingly followed her into the kitchen.
He was a lovely animal when he chose; they were much alike in that way. He was a lovely, lovely animal. He was so small he could light in her even smaller hands, like a snowflake. There was something so comforting in the knowledge that he was just a bird -- that even with so much conviction, so much knowledge in those fierce eyes, he was nothing. If he were to disappear, Cho might never see him again. She might have another of him.
A long time ago, today was the day Cedric approached her, after class. He had had... something to say about Quidditch. Cho was good with dates, good with remembering times -- numbers were so solid, so unbreakable -- and she always had these moments filed away. For destruction or glory, whichever; whichever surfaced in the odds first. But most of what she remembered was the shape his mouth had taken, disappointed in the outcome of a game. The ironic turn at the corners, as if her strategy were no secret to him.
There were some moments she felt she could sense things coming, as if they were merely strangers in another room. There were some moments she realised she was waiting. Was it because she was so used to things falling apart without her consent -- even with an apology? I can't read cards like you!
Why the thought should stick out so starkly, she didn't want to know.
"Tam," a whisper, "You can... Be my eyes. You can spend more time outside of Percy's flat, and see. I don't want you to spy, nothing like that! ... Just... just make sure he comes and goes safely. I'm worried about him."
Not this time -- not ethical, not ethical, not ethical -- and she pressed her fingers tightly against her mouth, her cheeks, her eyes.
The sound of wings is so beautiful, thought Cho, and felt the chill of death.
Location: Flat
Date: October 28th, 1999
Status/Warning: Closed
Summary: Cho asks a small, likely futile favor of Tamarind.
Completion: Complete.
"Tamarind."
The bird hissed, flapping his wings, and disappeared behind the couch.
"Tamarind, I..."
Silence.
"I need you to do something for me."
For a few minutes, nothing but the shimmer of dust in the air. Out the window Cho watched a family appear in the street, laughing together, and then vanish to the left of the frame; craning her neck after them, she let out a heavy breath. The apartment lay still. Her wrists and fingers ached with the weight of it. She fiddled with the fabric of her skirt, brushing at the red tights underneath, and stood. After a moment of silence the owl grudgingly followed her into the kitchen.
He was a lovely animal when he chose; they were much alike in that way. He was a lovely, lovely animal. He was so small he could light in her even smaller hands, like a snowflake. There was something so comforting in the knowledge that he was just a bird -- that even with so much conviction, so much knowledge in those fierce eyes, he was nothing. If he were to disappear, Cho might never see him again. She might have another of him.
A long time ago, today was the day Cedric approached her, after class. He had had... something to say about Quidditch. Cho was good with dates, good with remembering times -- numbers were so solid, so unbreakable -- and she always had these moments filed away. For destruction or glory, whichever; whichever surfaced in the odds first. But most of what she remembered was the shape his mouth had taken, disappointed in the outcome of a game. The ironic turn at the corners, as if her strategy were no secret to him.
There were some moments she felt she could sense things coming, as if they were merely strangers in another room. There were some moments she realised she was waiting. Was it because she was so used to things falling apart without her consent -- even with an apology? I can't read cards like you!
Why the thought should stick out so starkly, she didn't want to know.
"Tam," a whisper, "You can... Be my eyes. You can spend more time outside of Percy's flat, and see. I don't want you to spy, nothing like that! ... Just... just make sure he comes and goes safely. I'm worried about him."
Not this time -- not ethical, not ethical, not ethical -- and she pressed her fingers tightly against her mouth, her cheeks, her eyes.
The sound of wings is so beautiful, thought Cho, and felt the chill of death.