RP: Sore
Character: Cho Chang.
Location: Diagon Alley.
Date: February 9th, 2000
Status/Warning: Closed.
Summary: It's a cold, rainy day.
Completion: Complete.
Not what she'd thought, originally.
Not what Cho had imagined.
What would you have me do was not a question, nothing in imploring tones, no upturned husk of a voice. It was a command. An incentive to button your coat against, pull on soft boots, sidle out the door toward. Her insides were sore, but not with the aftermath of love, and when her knees went weak a moment later it was because:
What would she do, really? About anything? Still --
Cho managed to visit Anna, and the smooth worn dance floor. She practised until her wrists gave way like rubber bands, afterward coasting away on flat soles. With a promise to continue -- I'll be back tomorrow, and Thursday -- she vanished in the rain again, pulling the hood of the coat over her eyes.
... And how easy.
Halfway home there was a bridge; she pressed herself against the wet railing, body measured in increments on the cold iron. But ... it's not all right, is it? In this position, water thawing and breaking and brawling under her ankles, she thought of several things.
Location: Diagon Alley.
Date: February 9th, 2000
Status/Warning: Closed.
Summary: It's a cold, rainy day.
Completion: Complete.
Not what she'd thought, originally.
Not what Cho had imagined.
What would you have me do was not a question, nothing in imploring tones, no upturned husk of a voice. It was a command. An incentive to button your coat against, pull on soft boots, sidle out the door toward. Her insides were sore, but not with the aftermath of love, and when her knees went weak a moment later it was because:
What would she do, really? About anything? Still --
Cho managed to visit Anna, and the smooth worn dance floor. She practised until her wrists gave way like rubber bands, afterward coasting away on flat soles. With a promise to continue -- I'll be back tomorrow, and Thursday -- she vanished in the rain again, pulling the hood of the coat over her eyes.
... And how easy.
Halfway home there was a bridge; she pressed herself against the wet railing, body measured in increments on the cold iron. But ... it's not all right, is it? In this position, water thawing and breaking and brawling under her ankles, she thought of several things.