- Messages
- 1,386
- OOC First Name
- Amanda
- Blood Status
- Pure Blood
- Relationship Status
- Widow
- Age
- August 9, 1978 (76)
Returning home was not easy. Disoriented and worn out, Tristan took a considerable amount of time simply finding his way back to Obsidian Harbor. From there he knew the way back. His journey was littered with frequent stops. His experience was much worse when he ventured closer to the Western Hemisphere. Winter was in full swing, and he had no wand, no warm robes and no money. Desperation pushed him to the door of his home in the mid-afternoon.
The large man glanced over his shoulder to see his footprints littering the snow. No one had shoveled in some time. His mouth running dry he knocked on the door, despairing when there was no answer. It took a great deal of magic, but he managed to open the door wandlessly. He turned the doorknob and stumbled through the entrance.
The place was devoid of all signs of life, but the heat was on. Tristan trudged through the house, breathing frantically as he tore from room to room. The furnishings were still here, yet there were no signs that it had been lived in. No toys strewn about. The photographs on the walls had disappeared. Tears stained his eyes as he collapsed onto the couch. Pain wrenched his insides as he gave in to an uncomfortable slumber.
When Tristan awoke, it was early morning. He had no concept of time or date. Bringing his large fingers to his temples, he rubbed at them furiously, trying to sort out what to do. He had to find Julie and the kids. They had left some time before. But where to?
Forsaking a shower and taking time only to eat a cold can of spaghetti, he left the house soon enough. It was nothing but a hollowed shell, a figment of his past. He had no luck with Julie's mother. He went to Carl's next. The man did not receive him with warmth but did give Tristan time to explain his situation. To the dismay of the latter, the former didn't know Julie's whereabouts either.
Tristan was the very definition of exhausted as he returned across the world. Looking the worse for wear, he brought his fist to yet another door and pounded.
The large man glanced over his shoulder to see his footprints littering the snow. No one had shoveled in some time. His mouth running dry he knocked on the door, despairing when there was no answer. It took a great deal of magic, but he managed to open the door wandlessly. He turned the doorknob and stumbled through the entrance.
The place was devoid of all signs of life, but the heat was on. Tristan trudged through the house, breathing frantically as he tore from room to room. The furnishings were still here, yet there were no signs that it had been lived in. No toys strewn about. The photographs on the walls had disappeared. Tears stained his eyes as he collapsed onto the couch. Pain wrenched his insides as he gave in to an uncomfortable slumber.
When Tristan awoke, it was early morning. He had no concept of time or date. Bringing his large fingers to his temples, he rubbed at them furiously, trying to sort out what to do. He had to find Julie and the kids. They had left some time before. But where to?
Forsaking a shower and taking time only to eat a cold can of spaghetti, he left the house soon enough. It was nothing but a hollowed shell, a figment of his past. He had no luck with Julie's mother. He went to Carl's next. The man did not receive him with warmth but did give Tristan time to explain his situation. To the dismay of the latter, the former didn't know Julie's whereabouts either.
Tristan was the very definition of exhausted as he returned across the world. Looking the worse for wear, he brought his fist to yet another door and pounded.