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- Knotted 12 1/2 Inch Sturdy Fir Wand with Thestral Tail Hair Core
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- 4/2015 (46)
This is an open topic, but, mostly for those who know Stefan, friends and such, that would fit into the plot that I'm creating, and I'll be posting with Tybalt after this guy, so if people want to join they can do so after that!
Christmas time was always a tricky time of year. It was an odd time, a time for family and reflection. To spend time with loved ones and just be happy with how life had turned out for that year. For Stefan, it was a time of mixed feelings. He liked it, since he'd been able to celebrate it. He enjoyed giving things to others, he enjoyed decorating and just making the house look festive. But, he had a slightly more removed attitude towards the holiday for himself. Stefan liked giving gifts, but he wasn't so good at receiving them, and the time of Christmas brought with them, those memories of holidays with his dad. The break between terms in school. Those four years of them, each one worse than the last. Knowing the hell he would return to had always left Stefan on edge in the final weeks of school. He had always worked hard to make them less obvious, but it was always clear. He ate less and less. Took food with him when he left to go home. He would flinch more, be more startled by small sounds. Every so often, his mind would wander to his father, and his hands would start shaking. He had grown in that time to truly despise the holidays, knowing what awaited him had never brought the sort of joy the season was meant to bring. Stefan's father was dead now, and had been for close to 5 years, give or take a few days since Stefan wasn't sure which of the days his father had died on. That holiday had been a blur. A blur he had awoken from just under 2 months later. Not his best holiday to say the least. But, his father had been dead 5 years, and the Christmases he had spent since that fateful year had been steadily getting better. It had helped that he worked hard to banish those memories from his mind. Ignoring them always seemed to work best for him. So, he busied himself. Invited folks round, Kate, his extended family, her family, their friends. He didn't care how many or how few ended up attending, just as long as he didn't have to think, or have the time to let his mind drift to those years before. One thing that he could barely stop were the nightmares. This time year brought them back full force. He would just work and work until he practically collapsed so that he wouldn't have to sleep and run the risk of those nightmares, but Stefan wasn't invincible, he couldn't just stay awake during the entire season. Instead he just to work himself so much during the day that he was so tired that he all but passed out. This generally meant that he used his wand less, and did a lot more by hand. But even this didn't always work.
The two days following Christmas was always quiet. Stefan had invited over many people, and they were currently spread out around the house sleeping. He had completely transformed his old parent's bedroom into one that himself and Kate used on certain occasions. Though he preferred sleeping in the living room, that bed was more comfortable. He had taken the time to unlock his old bedroom, fixing the window a few days before, making it look like the final room that needed done over. This was where he had chosen that they would sleep during this time in his home. But, this was a mistake, and Stefan knew it. It wasn't obvious that it was his old room. Aside from being very bare, and having very little personal belongings. Mostly it just looked like the house had previously. There were slightly more suspicious dents and stains in the process of being removed, but that room was a difficult place for Stefan to be. It held too many memories, contained too many ghosts of his past. It wasn't easy for him. But, apart from Kate, Sara, Tara, and Elvera no one else really knew about his past. And of that, it was only Kate who knew some of the details. Even at that, Stefan wasn't particularly open about his past. He was uncomfortable with talking about the details. Since, for the most part Stefan still believed it was his fault. That most of it could've been avoided had he been better, better behaved. This being said, on the early hours of the 27th December, no later than 2am, just an hour or so after everyone had finally gone to sleep for the night, the teen was in grips of a nightmare, that left him sweating, shaking, and most of all muttering under his breathe, words he now only ever utter in his sleep. Pleas with his father to not. To stop. Desperate pain filled pleas. The nightmare itself, was a memory, a mishmash of old memories, settling on the ones from that fateful Christmas that had completely altered Stefan's life. He remembered it, as clear as day in his mind. Well, as clear as his pain hazed mind could. It wasn't the day his father had attempt to kill him, but before that. When he'd made the decision that enough was enough. He remember waking up on that morning, the day he was meant to meet Kate, and just feeling like death was the only option if he didn't leave. But his mind was not stuck on that morning, it was repeating the day before. He couldn't at this point remember what he'd done wrong to deserve it. But his father just kept going. Stefan had pleaded, groaned, cried out and desperately trying to reach out to his dad, both mentally and physically hoping he'd come to his senses about what he'd been doing. It was one final kick, that brought Stefan flying out of his nightmare.
He woke with a gasp, barely able to keep his breathing in check. He had thin sheen of sweat. He rubbed a hand against his eyes, as he reminded himself it was just a dream. It was no longer real. He shakily stood up from the bed. Leaning a hand against the wall closest to him. Barely able to stop the tears which streamed from his eyes as his mind replayed the dream to him. He quickly left the room, going quickly to bathroom, and managing it before he lost the contents of his stomach. Once he was sure he was done, Stefan cleaned up after himself and after quickly rinsing his mouth, he quietly made his way downstairs. Heading straight to the kitchen, where he did the only thing he could manage, make a cup of tea. His hands were still badly shaking, tears were now only threatening to fall. He just went through the mundane motions of making tea for himself. Just trying to calm down. He didn't want to wake any one. Once the tea was made, the teen opened the backdoor in the kitchen and walked to the table which had been set up in the middle of the garden. The sky was overcast, but it looked like it wouldn't rain, he was a little underdressed, wearing his pyjama shorts and a t-shirt that was fairly old and worn, but Stefan didn't mind. He placed the cup of tea on the table, and just took a deep breath of the morning air. Rest his elbows on the table, he put his head in his hands, and just took the time to breath. It had been five years, Stefan hadn't thought it would be easy. He still had bad days, but this was different. It was different because he had others in his home, he was tired but completely awake at the same time. The dream had just been so real. He had felt the bad, tasted the blood, heard the anger. But he was no longer a fourteen year old boy nearing the last time he could deal with it. He was nineteen and he didn't have to deal with it. Yet, even five years down the line, the thought, and memories of his father brought fear to the teen. What if this was the dream. What if his father wasn't really dead. Five years down the line and he was still at times like this unable to really process that his father could never hurt him again.
Christmas time was always a tricky time of year. It was an odd time, a time for family and reflection. To spend time with loved ones and just be happy with how life had turned out for that year. For Stefan, it was a time of mixed feelings. He liked it, since he'd been able to celebrate it. He enjoyed giving things to others, he enjoyed decorating and just making the house look festive. But, he had a slightly more removed attitude towards the holiday for himself. Stefan liked giving gifts, but he wasn't so good at receiving them, and the time of Christmas brought with them, those memories of holidays with his dad. The break between terms in school. Those four years of them, each one worse than the last. Knowing the hell he would return to had always left Stefan on edge in the final weeks of school. He had always worked hard to make them less obvious, but it was always clear. He ate less and less. Took food with him when he left to go home. He would flinch more, be more startled by small sounds. Every so often, his mind would wander to his father, and his hands would start shaking. He had grown in that time to truly despise the holidays, knowing what awaited him had never brought the sort of joy the season was meant to bring. Stefan's father was dead now, and had been for close to 5 years, give or take a few days since Stefan wasn't sure which of the days his father had died on. That holiday had been a blur. A blur he had awoken from just under 2 months later. Not his best holiday to say the least. But, his father had been dead 5 years, and the Christmases he had spent since that fateful year had been steadily getting better. It had helped that he worked hard to banish those memories from his mind. Ignoring them always seemed to work best for him. So, he busied himself. Invited folks round, Kate, his extended family, her family, their friends. He didn't care how many or how few ended up attending, just as long as he didn't have to think, or have the time to let his mind drift to those years before. One thing that he could barely stop were the nightmares. This time year brought them back full force. He would just work and work until he practically collapsed so that he wouldn't have to sleep and run the risk of those nightmares, but Stefan wasn't invincible, he couldn't just stay awake during the entire season. Instead he just to work himself so much during the day that he was so tired that he all but passed out. This generally meant that he used his wand less, and did a lot more by hand. But even this didn't always work.
The two days following Christmas was always quiet. Stefan had invited over many people, and they were currently spread out around the house sleeping. He had completely transformed his old parent's bedroom into one that himself and Kate used on certain occasions. Though he preferred sleeping in the living room, that bed was more comfortable. He had taken the time to unlock his old bedroom, fixing the window a few days before, making it look like the final room that needed done over. This was where he had chosen that they would sleep during this time in his home. But, this was a mistake, and Stefan knew it. It wasn't obvious that it was his old room. Aside from being very bare, and having very little personal belongings. Mostly it just looked like the house had previously. There were slightly more suspicious dents and stains in the process of being removed, but that room was a difficult place for Stefan to be. It held too many memories, contained too many ghosts of his past. It wasn't easy for him. But, apart from Kate, Sara, Tara, and Elvera no one else really knew about his past. And of that, it was only Kate who knew some of the details. Even at that, Stefan wasn't particularly open about his past. He was uncomfortable with talking about the details. Since, for the most part Stefan still believed it was his fault. That most of it could've been avoided had he been better, better behaved. This being said, on the early hours of the 27th December, no later than 2am, just an hour or so after everyone had finally gone to sleep for the night, the teen was in grips of a nightmare, that left him sweating, shaking, and most of all muttering under his breathe, words he now only ever utter in his sleep. Pleas with his father to not. To stop. Desperate pain filled pleas. The nightmare itself, was a memory, a mishmash of old memories, settling on the ones from that fateful Christmas that had completely altered Stefan's life. He remembered it, as clear as day in his mind. Well, as clear as his pain hazed mind could. It wasn't the day his father had attempt to kill him, but before that. When he'd made the decision that enough was enough. He remember waking up on that morning, the day he was meant to meet Kate, and just feeling like death was the only option if he didn't leave. But his mind was not stuck on that morning, it was repeating the day before. He couldn't at this point remember what he'd done wrong to deserve it. But his father just kept going. Stefan had pleaded, groaned, cried out and desperately trying to reach out to his dad, both mentally and physically hoping he'd come to his senses about what he'd been doing. It was one final kick, that brought Stefan flying out of his nightmare.
He woke with a gasp, barely able to keep his breathing in check. He had thin sheen of sweat. He rubbed a hand against his eyes, as he reminded himself it was just a dream. It was no longer real. He shakily stood up from the bed. Leaning a hand against the wall closest to him. Barely able to stop the tears which streamed from his eyes as his mind replayed the dream to him. He quickly left the room, going quickly to bathroom, and managing it before he lost the contents of his stomach. Once he was sure he was done, Stefan cleaned up after himself and after quickly rinsing his mouth, he quietly made his way downstairs. Heading straight to the kitchen, where he did the only thing he could manage, make a cup of tea. His hands were still badly shaking, tears were now only threatening to fall. He just went through the mundane motions of making tea for himself. Just trying to calm down. He didn't want to wake any one. Once the tea was made, the teen opened the backdoor in the kitchen and walked to the table which had been set up in the middle of the garden. The sky was overcast, but it looked like it wouldn't rain, he was a little underdressed, wearing his pyjama shorts and a t-shirt that was fairly old and worn, but Stefan didn't mind. He placed the cup of tea on the table, and just took a deep breath of the morning air. Rest his elbows on the table, he put his head in his hands, and just took the time to breath. It had been five years, Stefan hadn't thought it would be easy. He still had bad days, but this was different. It was different because he had others in his home, he was tired but completely awake at the same time. The dream had just been so real. He had felt the bad, tasted the blood, heard the anger. But he was no longer a fourteen year old boy nearing the last time he could deal with it. He was nineteen and he didn't have to deal with it. Yet, even five years down the line, the thought, and memories of his father brought fear to the teen. What if this was the dream. What if his father wasn't really dead. Five years down the line and he was still at times like this unable to really process that his father could never hurt him again.