- Messages
- 470
- Wand
- Rosewood Wand 14 1/4" Essence of Hair from the mane of a Unicorn
(This is open, but I would prefer someone Angel knows to join. But as she doesn't know very many people, this is open)
Angel Brookes walked through the forest trees, rain falling onto her tear-streaked face. She was alone in the world, no friends, no family, no possessions. This was her life now, and she'd better get used to it. Her hair, usually fluffy and brown, like whipped cream, was hanging in rats-tails around her small face. Smaller than every other first year student, she was always treated like a child. She was not a child, even if she looked one.
Angel didn't understand the mess she had gotten into, her house had been re-possesed, her aunt was in hospital, her parents dead, and her sister had no clue about anything that was happening at home. As usual, Stardust had been able to stay at a friends house for the holidays. Angel was alone in the world, and she hated herself for it.
It was very late, Angel shouldn't be out of her common room at all. The rain bucketed down, and Angel's pale blue tanktop and black gypsy skirt were soaked through. She looked tiny when she was wet, a small, frail little doll.
Angel Brookes walked through the forest trees, rain falling onto her tear-streaked face. She was alone in the world, no friends, no family, no possessions. This was her life now, and she'd better get used to it. Her hair, usually fluffy and brown, like whipped cream, was hanging in rats-tails around her small face. Smaller than every other first year student, she was always treated like a child. She was not a child, even if she looked one.
Angel didn't understand the mess she had gotten into, her house had been re-possesed, her aunt was in hospital, her parents dead, and her sister had no clue about anything that was happening at home. As usual, Stardust had been able to stay at a friends house for the holidays. Angel was alone in the world, and she hated herself for it.
It was very late, Angel shouldn't be out of her common room at all. The rain bucketed down, and Angel's pale blue tanktop and black gypsy skirt were soaked through. She looked tiny when she was wet, a small, frail little doll.