Post by Deleted on Oct 12, 2013 11:03:04 GMT -5
the eyes around me are so cold ,
w i t h e v e r y c h a n c e t h e y s t e a l m y s o u l. s o w a l k w i t h m e,
talk with me, hold my hand i'm stumbling. the consequence buries me alive.[/color][/font]
Roxy could already see that things were not going to turn out as she had intended. The professor hadn’t gotten thirty minutes into her marking before she had got distracted. It was more of a willing distraction, really. She had grown bored of reading essay after boring essay when she suddenly realized that she was running low on ink. In all reality, she could have finished the job with what she had, but the woman was utterly convinced that half a pot of ink just wouldn’t do. Roxy took it as an excuse to leave her little flat in the heart of London. Not just any ink would do, either. It had to be purple, bright purple. Lavender purple just wouldn’t do, neither would violet. I had to have a pinky hew. And it had to sparkle, because anything less would be far too boring.
She was just about to leave when she conveniently remembered that she still hadn’t finished the costume for ‘Puddleglum’ in ‘The Silver Chair’. It was her latest theatre project and she was determined to get everything just so. The only thing she has left was the hat, or, more specifically, the ribbon that went just above the brim. Despite the fact that she had about five million different colours to choose from, Roxy couldn’t find what she needed. All the browns she had were either ‘too chocolaty’ or ‘too green’ or ‘too beige-y’. She needed a ‘mud brown’. Nothing else would do, even if she had to travel across the world to find it. She added it to her shopping list.
Satisfied that she some tasks that would take her a few hours, Roxy finally left, heading first to Diagon Ally to get her ink. The place has such pleasant memories for her. She and her mother would used to take trips down the wizarding shopping area to purchase thing for school. Her father never came, however, which had upset Roxy. She still couldn’t get Mr. Farris to come anywhere near the place.
The professor often called it her ‘Narnia’. It was her special, magical place that helped her escape the mundane. Right now, however, it was a dreadful distraction from what really needed to be done.
can you fix what's made to be broken ?[/i][/color][/size][/font]
i c a n ' t f i x w h a t ' s m a d e t o b e. m y h e a r t i s t a t t o o e d o n m y s l e e v e
i'm not hiding, no. it only hurts to breathe. my heart is tattooed on my sleeve.
tag: who is it for? words: 515 outfit: here Notes: So awful, I am sorry…[/color][/font]
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this template was made by ALICE! of Caution 2.0.
the lyrics are "on my sleeve" by creed. do not remove credit.
do not steal, modify, edit, or use without creator's consent.
the lyrics are "on my sleeve" by creed. do not remove credit.
do not steal, modify, edit, or use without creator's consent.