13 Apr 2020, 04:53
Tears don't fall
♡♡♡♡♡
This is a continuation of this thread (please read beforehand-it will help)
Interacting with
@Rafael D'Spacito
Hands trembling, Ariana stuffed the photo in the pocket of her robes and dashed down the stairs of the owlery, her long brown hair flying behind her as she continued running, her bright green eyes streaming with tears. She reached the rehearsal room and praying that there was no one inside, turned the handle and pushed open the door. It was deserted. Ariana collapsed on a nearby stool, the tears stook over and her body wracked with violent sobs as she let it all out. She curled up into a ball, hugging her knees to her chest. She hated feeling weak, she had learned to grow strong, to hardly ever cry. It was inevitable if you had grown up in a family with majority older brothers. The photograph still trembled in her shaking hands as tears splashed onto the surface, her bright green eyes still watching the face she had been so sure she would have got to see again. If only there was someone who would understand, she would have gone to her parents….but those were the very people who lied to her-
And a fresh wave of fury was breaking over her now like lava, scorching her insides, wiping out nearly every other feeling, as she struggled to take in the truth. Her parents had let her live a lie. They had made her, forced her to believe…
She was a lot more hurt than she let on, but currently, anger was the dominant emotion she was dealing with. She knew all of this, but even so, she was shocked at the intensity of her heartache. Hearing the words from her own mother was different. It was one thing to suspect, but another to be certain, to know. Ariana's hands shook violently and fresh tears leaked from her eyes. Now guilt was flooding through her veins and she brought her hands to her face, scrunching up her eyes and remembering. Why? Why had she been so stupid? It was her fault. Her sister had only come running after her because Ariana herself had ran and if it hadn't been for her own foolishness, Alejandra might still have been alive…
She dropped her hands back down to her lap and the tips of her fingers brushed the piece of rolled up parchment, containing information that minutes before, Ariana would never have even dared to believe. For a moment she had to fight the temptation to scrunch it up and chuck it across the room. “Lies” She whispered and her voice cracked neatly in two, a voice full of grief and she let the tears fall again, this time silently as she wept in the memory of her beloved cousin.
She finally lifted her head up and glanced around the room, seeing a magnificent piano sitting in the far corner, she got up, walked over and sat down on the large stool, trancing her fingers along the ivory keys. Piano, Alejandra had loved listening to Ariana playing the piano. Ariana could almost hear her cousin’s soft angelic voice singing her favorite songs to her. Resting her own hands on the ancient keys Ariana closed her eyes and began to play one of Alejandras favorite songs, singing as she did so. Her singing voice was quite much like Alejandra’s had been. Sweet, soft and angelic it gave a calming sense to anyone who was listening. Ariana had always let Alejandra do the singing though, while she played along, listening to her sweet cousin’s voice. This time she did it alone. The song's lyrics had no relevant meaning to anything Ariana had experienced. It was just one of those songs that Alejandra had loved singing. She didn't know why she remembered that particular one, but she sang it anyway, lost in her thoughts, her eyes closed, tears still slipping out from under her eyelids, unaware that if anyone was to come in now she would not hear them approach.
♡♡♡♡♡
Last edited by Ariana Walker on 25 May 2020, 23:22, edited 5 times in total.
Ariana Walker
‘It’s that heart of gold, & stardust soul that make you beautiful.’
Part-Veela || Hex code: #800000
14 Apr 2020, 18:46
Tears don't fall
@Ariana Walker
[font=Segoe Print]Though the air was lovely, fluffy white clouds spotting the morning skies and birds tittering through the air, there was a sort of dreary, depressing sort of air to the April morning, one that the Gryffindor Captain could do noting to shake. It was the strangest thing – perhaps it was the breeze, or the way the sunlight shone through the bay windows of Hodag Hallow. Hell, it could have even been the way his fellow students breathed, their very presences making the world utterly miserable for some odd, unexplainable reason. Well, he supposed, it wouldn’t have been the first time he’d been screwed by the universe – it was as if circumstance loathed him, dooming his existence to ill-timed meetings and much-despised luck. That could be the only explanation to such horrid environments.
[Or, perhaps the dreariness was all in his head – after all, he’d only just been rejected in his attempts to ask Flash to the illegal Blossom Ball. He was slightly irritable and weary, if not hurt, embarrassed, and ashamed. Who was the Slytherin taking, that was so much better than himself?]
He’d been meandering through the manifold hallways of the grand school for hours, weary eyes meeting countless plain pictures, grass-stained sneakers treading through countless flights of stairs as he wandered aimlessly, much like a ship without destination. There was a dull, empty feeling presiding in his chest, one he loathed with a passion – he wanted more than anything to be rid of it, his mind free of the pain, his being liberated from the weighty feeling of being rejected. What was he even to do with himself?
He supposed, it was only a matter of time before he’d heard the music – the notes were deep, if not saddening tones, emanating weightily from down the hall, the result of skilled, nimble-fingered piano-playing. The Rehearsal Room, he thought absently, wasn’t too far from where he stood, the entrance mere doors down from where he currently stood, hoodie tucked over his eyes and hands shoved deep into empty pockets. Well, he supposed there wasn’t much he could do – his curiosity was utterly piqued, as was his attention span raptly taken. Who was behind such music? Who was the creator of such dull, facet tones?
His feet subconsciously started moving, and before he could do anything to stop himself, he was standing outside the door to the room in question – without tact, he quietly peeked in the doorway, his eyes wide in curiosity and his mouth closed firmly in concentration as he investigated the scene. It was Ariana – one of the Beaters on the Gryffindor Quidditch Team. His cousin. She looked distraught, tears tolling down her face as she sang, her voice pristine and clear. He hadn’t known she played. Why was she upset? Why was she crying?
It was in that moment, that he found himself at an utter loss for words. What was he even to say? Nothing, he shortly deduced – it simply wasn’t his place at the time. He wasn’t really even supposed to be listening – but alas, he couldn’t help himself, the saddening noted invading his ears and dampening his mood further much like a drug. He would continue to listen until noticed – and then, when the girl finally recognized his presence, he would proceed to interact. [/font]
[font=Segoe Print]Though the air was lovely, fluffy white clouds spotting the morning skies and birds tittering through the air, there was a sort of dreary, depressing sort of air to the April morning, one that the Gryffindor Captain could do noting to shake. It was the strangest thing – perhaps it was the breeze, or the way the sunlight shone through the bay windows of Hodag Hallow. Hell, it could have even been the way his fellow students breathed, their very presences making the world utterly miserable for some odd, unexplainable reason. Well, he supposed, it wouldn’t have been the first time he’d been screwed by the universe – it was as if circumstance loathed him, dooming his existence to ill-timed meetings and much-despised luck. That could be the only explanation to such horrid environments.
[Or, perhaps the dreariness was all in his head – after all, he’d only just been rejected in his attempts to ask Flash to the illegal Blossom Ball. He was slightly irritable and weary, if not hurt, embarrassed, and ashamed. Who was the Slytherin taking, that was so much better than himself?]
He’d been meandering through the manifold hallways of the grand school for hours, weary eyes meeting countless plain pictures, grass-stained sneakers treading through countless flights of stairs as he wandered aimlessly, much like a ship without destination. There was a dull, empty feeling presiding in his chest, one he loathed with a passion – he wanted more than anything to be rid of it, his mind free of the pain, his being liberated from the weighty feeling of being rejected. What was he even to do with himself?
He supposed, it was only a matter of time before he’d heard the music – the notes were deep, if not saddening tones, emanating weightily from down the hall, the result of skilled, nimble-fingered piano-playing. The Rehearsal Room, he thought absently, wasn’t too far from where he stood, the entrance mere doors down from where he currently stood, hoodie tucked over his eyes and hands shoved deep into empty pockets. Well, he supposed there wasn’t much he could do – his curiosity was utterly piqued, as was his attention span raptly taken. Who was behind such music? Who was the creator of such dull, facet tones?
His feet subconsciously started moving, and before he could do anything to stop himself, he was standing outside the door to the room in question – without tact, he quietly peeked in the doorway, his eyes wide in curiosity and his mouth closed firmly in concentration as he investigated the scene. It was Ariana – one of the Beaters on the Gryffindor Quidditch Team. His cousin. She looked distraught, tears tolling down her face as she sang, her voice pristine and clear. He hadn’t known she played. Why was she upset? Why was she crying?
It was in that moment, that he found himself at an utter loss for words. What was he even to say? Nothing, he shortly deduced – it simply wasn’t his place at the time. He wasn’t really even supposed to be listening – but alas, he couldn’t help himself, the saddening noted invading his ears and dampening his mood further much like a drug. He would continue to listen until noticed – and then, when the girl finally recognized his presence, he would proceed to interact. [/font]
I probably haven't collected my allowance yet.
15 Apr 2020, 13:52
Tears don't fall
♡♡♡♡♡
@Rafael D'Spacito
Ariana finished, raising her fingertips from the delicate keys, her sad eyes slowly fluttering open. Where was she again? Oh now she remembered. As if a wave of realization had come crashing over her once more, the anger came flooding back, sweeping out any other thoughts for a few moments. She thrashed her fist down onto the piano keys aggressively, so that it emitted a jumble of disorientated loud notes. It did not make her feel any better. She swiveled round on the stool so that she was now facing the doorway from across the room. Her green eyes now blazing with ferocity, she hugged her knees to her chest, trying to comfort herself and find a way to calm down. It was not until she looked up that she noticed someone was watching her. Her heart skipped a beat and she leapt off the stool in surprise, tripped and nearly fell over it, catching herself just in time. Who was it? Had the person, whoever it was, heard her singing? Her spirits sunk, if it was possible, even lower. Narrowing her eyes in suspicion, she composed herself and strode up to the door, just as the person moved closer.
Flinging it open, her temper fierce and her patience on the edge, she opened her mouth to yell at the person who had been spying on her, but was instead met with a strikingly familiar face. She froze in shock for a few moments, the anger present on her features vanished, only to be replaced with those of someone utterly perplexed. She stared up into the face of the tall figure. Dark handsome features, soft brown eyes, smooth tanned skin, who else could this be? “Rafa?” She whispered, her anger slowly ebbing away, something about his presence made her feel calm, relaxed. She couldn't get mad at him. She stared at her cousin quizzically for a few seconds, and for a moment she had the strong desire to fling her arms around him and sob into his warm embrace and tell him everything, wouldn't he understand? She did not do this however but simply dropped her head to stare at her trainers, avoiding his gaze. “Rafa-I Im sorry, I was... I mean what are you doing here? Wait did you hear...” She stumbled over her words, mentally cursing herself under her breath for sounding weak. Fuck you Ariana, why do you have to be such a crybaby. She had not spoken to him since their last quidditch match. Sure they used to be close, but as there were fewer and fewer opportunities to talk to each other, they had become quite distanced over the past few weeks and if she was being honest, Ariana had missed him. A small sympathetic but anxious smile was spread across his features and Ariana hastily used the sleeve of her hoodie to scrub at her tear stained cheeks. “Im fine...Im fine” She muttered, but she definitely wasn't, and she had a bad feeling that Rafa could see right through her.
♡♡♡♡♡
Ariana Walker
‘It’s that heart of gold, & stardust soul that make you beautiful.’
Part-Veela || Hex code: #800000
29 Apr 2020, 21:56
Tears don't fall
╔══════════════☩══♛══☩══════════════╗Interacting With: @Ariana Walker
Mentioning: N/A╚═══════════════☩══✦══☩══════════════╝
[font=Segoe Print]“Rafa?”
There was something about the way Ariana played, the lilting of her notes, pain in her voice, that seemed to pull at the heartstrings of the young Captain, his throat growing tighter and his frown only deepening as the moments wore on. He’d known she was a good player, his mom having talked about her skill at the dinner table in more than one instance, but it wasn’t often that his ears could truly comprehend the extent of her skill level. Here he was now, basking in the dreary notes, mournful tones, the music like rain pattering against the window, gently clouding the skies in their gloom, or in this case, his forlorn mind. Where had she learned to play so well? Perhaps he would never know. Or, perhaps he would ask her sometime, in the hopes of seeking out such a talented teacher and asking for tips. For his own paying was quite skilled, but he still had a great deal to learn about portraying true emotion.
The sound of his name, a mere whisper echoing through the now-silent air, had stirred his silent mind, awaking him from the trance her music had put him under. It was then, that he could truly observe the extent of her pain – she looked mournful, on the brink of crying almost, a porcelain cup only moments from shattering, pouring its messy contents everywhere. Such a sight was quite unsettling, and for a moment, the boy was left wondering what exactly was the cause of such acute distress. Was she hurt? Did someone say something malicious? Was she stressed over school? Quidditch? Both?
[He knew he’d beat to a pulp anyone who chose to hurt her feelings.]
At the sound of her question, spoken lowly, a mere breath, he stepped forward, arms crossed and brow furrowed, a questioning look decorating his features. “I was listening,” he answered shortly, frowning as he nodded backwards, specifically towards the entrance he’d just entered from. “You forgot to close the door. I could hear you from the stairs.” Such words were most likely not very comforting in nature – he looked down, kicking at a shoelace that had fallen in front of his foot. What was he doing, dancing around the question? He didn’t do that. Perhaps it was because he cared for the girl sitting on the piano bench, not wanting to hurt her feelings by pouring salt into the wound. Or maybe, it was because he felt unprepared regarding how to deal with women and their feelings. After all, trying to associate with his older sister seldom ended with good graces for all parties involved. Ariana didn’t cry around him much – how was he to handle such emotions?
Before he could stop himself, the words poured out, utterly unfiltered and raw. “What’s up?” he asked blatantly, his words laced with concern as he jutted his chin in her direction. “I mean,” a weak chuckle escaped his lips, “you’re hardly okay. Did something happen? Need me to beat anyone up for you?” Though the threat was a joke, the offer was still more than valid. He was worried, as was more than evident on his face. He certainly didn’t like to see her cry.
“What’s wrong, Ariana?” [/font]
I probably haven't collected my allowance yet.
7 May 2020, 20:07
Tears don't fall
Interacting with:@Rafael D'Spacito
“I was listening, you forgot to close the door. I could hear you from the stairs.” Ariana blinked, frowning slightly, her thoughts were a mass of tangled confusion at the moment, she didn’t know how much longer she could hold up the ‘acting fine’ facade in front of her cousin. In any case it didn't seem like she was doing it well, she could already feel painful pricks in the corner of her eyes. She looked up at him and it was all she could do to keep eye contact without breaking down.
Their height difference was a hilarious one, she barely reached his chin she was so small. Yet this time she didn’t smirk up at him or punch his arm playfully. In fact Ariana had never been more prone to crying in her life, she didn’t even know how Rafa was to deal with her in this state.
“What’s wrong, Ariana?” His words were the last straw, they were simple, yet they held some much care and concern that it was as though someone had plucked the stilts savagely from underneath her, making her more and more unstable until she was sent plunging into hopeless vulnerability. It took immense strength not to collapse right there into tears. She let her head flop forwards, gritting her teeth slightly so that Rafa couldn’t see her cry, but the tears came harder than ever. Would he think she was weak? A crybaby? A drama queen? Her usually sweet voice was now thick with pain, laced with anxious despair.
She took in a shuddering breath “ M-mamá and papá l-lied to me about Alejandra. B-back in Argentina the day Ale went missing, they never told me that she died. I thought she had gone to stay with relatives after getting injured but it turns out that she died that day and they never told me.” Now that she voiced this out loud, she saw the true reality of this statement, she had been so stupid, so naive to believe this. Did her family hate her for this? She couldn’t bear the thought of rejection. Her hands shook violently as fresh tears leaked from her eyes. She hated it, hated feeling vulnerable, feeling weak, it all felt too real.
She let out an involuntary sob, leaning forward ever so slightly, so that she held his arm gently for support. All anger forgotten at this point, her usually bold confident and bubbly tones were absent, replaced by shaking sobs. “R-recibí una carta” She sniffed, hardly aware of what she was saying, her words were tumbling out in buckets of distress as she reached shakily for the folded parchment in her pocket. “This morning, she fell that day after running from the guarida'' she was referring to their childhood ‘den’ as they would call it but hardly noticed that she was talking in Spanish, in her vulnerable state she often let old habits slip out. It was unfortunately common when she got to a temper and let a string of choicely Spanish swear words stray from her lips. “Ya no se que creer” she muttered.
Her head was pounding ferociously, smashing the insides of her skull as she swayed on the spot dangerously. She felt tired and exhausted after crying, yet deep inside squirming feelings of embarrassment, fear even. She could hardly tell if she was conscious, was she on the ground yet? Or was she still standing? It was so unlike her to be hopeless, so unlike her to step away from mystery, from risk, from laughter. She was usually optimistic, bold, her voice always carried confidence and cheerfulness, yet here she was, her worrying thoughts and feelings exposed, raw to the world to see. “It’s all my f-fault she’s gone.”
Ariana Walker
‘It’s that heart of gold, & stardust soul that make you beautiful.’
Part-Veela || Hex code: #800000
12 Jun 2020, 21:29
Tears don't fall
╔══════════════☩══♛══☩══════════════╗Interacting With: @Ariana Walker
Mentioning: N/A╚═══════════════☩══✦══☩══════════════╝
[font=Segoe Print]“B-back in Argentina, the day Ale went missing, they never told me that she died.”
Ariana was crying, the fresh tears rolling down her pretty face akin to the rain that battered relentlessly on the bay windows of the Gryffindor Common Room during the doom and gloom that was April, her shoulders shuddering with each breath as the sadness in her visage slowly consumed her – in a way, the sadness was contagious, the emotional dystrophy written on her features tugging at the Captain’s own, a deep frown pulling at the ends of his lips as darkened eyes sunk down towards the piano the Beater had been playing so beautifully. It was saddening, enraging, in the slightest, knowing someone was capable of such a monstrous sin of ignorance – what good parent would ever hide something of such importance from a girl of her age? He remembered the day his parents had told him of Ale, the raw emotion that had surged through his chest and tears running down his face as he had raced to understand what their words had meant. The child was no stranger to family death, having lost his sister in Argentina, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt just as much. And, even though he hadn’t known Alejandra as well as some of his other cousins, that didn’t mean the girl didn’t hold a special place in his heart. She was family, after all, and when family was hurt, you were, too. When they died, a part of you died with them.
He’d had time to cope with her death, the time and understanding enough to allow the child to hold himself together – he would use his control to comfort his cousin, he supposed in a quick thought, wasting no time in sliding onto the piano bench beside her, resting his hands on the keys naturally. Not that he was going to play. Rather, he bit his lip, forming his words carefully before continuing – “Ariana, I… don’t know what to say.” His whole demeanor leaked the empathy he rarely felt, his eyes resting on his lap as he put an arm around his cousin. “I’m sorry. This isn’t fair to you. This… this isn’t your fault...” His words were soft, tentative, as if walking on delicate eggshells, his lip bit tightly between his lips as he scrounged for the words. What was someone supposed to say to another in pain? It wasn't as if anyone had been thee when Sophia had died. But wait... there had been. Ariana. What had she said? He could barely remember. He would try to reiterate the best he could, however, looking over at the girl with sad eyes.
"I understand that there's nothing I can say to make you feel better," he stated starkly. So he wouldn't. He'd let his actions be his words, continuing to support his cousin through the gentle sibling-like contact that he offered, rocking her back and forth as best as he could. Whether or not his tactic worked, wouldn't matter. This was his best effort. Would it prove successful or not, that was something he would learn with time... [/font]
I probably haven't collected my allowance yet.
10 Jul 2020, 16:51
Tears don't fall
Interacting with: @Rafael D'Spacito
Her eyes were shut, the wet moisture of her tears was the only thing the brunette could feel for a few seconds, for her body was apparently numb, imperceptible to any feeling that decided to latch itself adjacent to her delicate stature. Would it be a pusillanimous attempt to avoid such cumbersome feelings? Would she be straying from something she was predestined to endure? It was then that she would relax the strain on her frame, her shoulders slackening from their stiff position, her sobs subsiding to barely audible hiccups, the pounding on her skull recededing to nothing. She fumbled around her thoughts, attempting to grasp a feeling that didn't make her body ache, that allowed her to stay calm, collected, to release her pain from the depths of her heart that it currently resided in.
“I’m sorry. This isn’t fair to you. This… this isn’t your fault...”
Soft words. So gentle, tentative in a way that they held genuine care. ‘This isn’t your fault.’ The words faded in and out and somehow Ariana felt like believing them, she found comfort in such an opinion. Was it an opinion? Or was it truth, a mere veracity of what was real?
Now feeling flowed steadily back, bathing her in assortments of sentimental views. She stayed where she was for a few moments. It was as though she could feel not just the sympathy that radiated from the warm embrace she was wrapped in, but the understanding, the sibling-like love. It was deeper than just pity, than condolence. It was boundless comprehension. The gentle movement of being rocked back and forth reminded her so profoundly of her mother. Having Rafael here, family who understood, so close; It was consoling, comforting in a way she couldn't string into words.
Eyes fluttered open, white spots obscuring her vision slightly as she swept her gaze around the oh-so-familiar room. Music was what brought life, meaning. It expressed words in a way vocabulary couldn't at times. Alejandra surely wouldn't want such sorrow to bury the young beater in her thoughts. The girl had been so fun-loving, kindhearted and such a peacemaker to all disputes, she had always been the light, shining in the darkest of times. She wouldn't have favored such dejection. She wanted Ariana to stay strong, she wanted her whole family to live on. Not just survive the world beyond them, but to live. Ariana’s gaze landed steadily on the ivory keys in front of them before green orbs flashed upwards, finding brown hues as she whispered the next words gently.
“¿Puedes tocarme una canción en el piano?” “Can you play me a song on the piano?”
Her voice was still slightly feeble, yet, it was almost as though she were demanding him her request. Her gaze was fixed, strong-willed, faded tear tracks glistening on her cheeks, although none more of the crystal drops fell from her eyes. Tentative words though, were they not? For despite the exigent will in her voice, there was a scratch of uncertainty, impoloration? A longing resided in the pit of her stomach, an aching for such a representation of life. To be reminded that she was living, that she had no need to bury herself away. Music was one of those beautiful things, one that represented all aspects of living emotion; a part of her, in some way.
Ariana Walker
‘It’s that heart of gold, & stardust soul that make you beautiful.’
Part-Veela || Hex code: #800000