- Messages
- 18,415
- OOC First Name
- Emzies
- Blood Status
- Muggleborn
- Relationship Status
- Married
- Sexual Orientation
- hetrosexual
- Wand
- Knotted 12 1/2 Inch Sturdy Fir Wand with Thestral Tail Hair Core
- Age
- 4/2015 (46)
At the mere age of twelve, this Slytherin could stand in front of a mirror, in only his jeans and stare at a body so thin and so frail that the urge to smash the mirror and forget what he looked like was a feeling more strong, than it would be for most others his age. It did not help that his arm, had a bandage around it, to hide the burn and his front and back, were littered with bruises and scars. Cuts and gashes. His stomach area had a fairly big, deep purple bruise. And the bruises right up to his shoulders. It was not something that any person of any age would want to look at. But, that was what Stefan knew. It didn't mean he like it, but he it was all he really knew. Obviously being completely colourblind Stefan did not actually see what his body looked like with all the bruising. If any were to see it, then they would wonder if Stefan had been hit with something heavy. He was pale, and the bruises and scars stood out like they'd been stuck on and weren't actually part of Stefan. It was as the Slytherin dressed that he was glad of where the bruises. People would not suspect anything, if there was nothing their to suspect about. He hoped deeply that his friends would leave the subject. That they would ignore what they saw, and just let Stefan be Stefan. Without the constant reminders that he had someone at home who probably wouldn't mind if he didn't exist. Stefan knew they were awful thought, but since his father had them about him, he sometimes believed that his father was right. That he did in fact deserve all that had happened to him. To also included Stefan beginning to think that the death of his mother had been his fault. That it was because of him, that his mother had died. Stefan wanted to think this wasn't true, but his father knew best. I'm sure your mum would be proud of you Willow's words sounded in his head. Sure, it was easy to say that she would be proud of him, but if it was actually true was a different matter. Stefan liked to think that his mother would be proud of him. For the magic he was able to do. For the friends he'd managed to make, for the grades that were improving. He knew it was very little for her to actually be proud of, he hadn't really done anything with his life yet, but he was sure, grades and friends were what most parents would be proud of. Stefan just had to really hope that she was proud of him. Stefan was fairly proud of himself. Apart from Herbology, his grades had been good. He'd done better than he had ever hoped. It made him really realise he was not as bad as he believed. If he read enough and went to as many of the lessons as possible, he knew it would be possible for him to be a straight A student. As much as it was weird to think, Stefan wanted to be that. So that he could really give his father something to be proud of. He would not be in some dead end job at the bottom of the scale, as his father liked to taunt.
The school was bustling, it was the start of term and most were fairly excited to be getting back into the swing of things. Seeing friends and reading. Quidditch and chess. Everything seemed so normal. It was as if, Stefan had never left. Like, he'd just pressed pause on the school and left for a few weeks to press play upon his return. It was odd. He hadn't really taken much noticed of the people within the school. He liked how they smiled with friends, so oblivious to how some school was a lot more than just a place to learn from some. It was weird, how some could know so little and been through so little, and yet their were people like Stefan was seemed to have the entire world against him. Not the people, but just the world. Someone didn't like him. If they had, they wouldn't have given him less to deal with. He was twelve, motherless, with an awful father, in a household with very little money, and was unable to see any form of colour. He saw in black and white and shades of grey. If he wasn't too aware that it really was shades of grey. As not just mixture of black and white. It was just the way of the Slytherin. He had so much to deal with in his life. His ability to push through it and still be able to function with others was a wonder. His lapse had been the previous term, where nothing had really added up, and all that had really been in him was anger. Tired of being pushed around, but now the slytherin knew better. he had to bottle it all up. because having it in the open, had begun to scare Stefan. He'd been so like his father in those moments, and it had been something he was afraid of. Something he'd hoped would never happen, but they shared genes, it would obviously happen. But instead of thinking it over again in his head for the fourth hundredth time, Stefan was just going somewhere to read. So that he would be ahead of the others. Far in the distance. So that he'd still be at the right place when all the others were finishing the course. He would finish with them. Stefan sighed to himself as he walked through the student lounge. He was careful to keep his eyes down on the ground, and just head for the spot with an average amount of light, and with a small amount of people. It was fairly hard since a lot of people were refinding their friends. Stefan was alone. He just sat down and began to read. As he read, every so often he glanced up and looked around to the different people. Finally his eyes laid themselves upon a boy, who looked about fifth year. Stefan just looked at the boy for several seconds and then away. He wondered what it would be like to be that age. 15, 16. Older. It was something he was looking forward to. As much as he hoped he'd live to that age. It is achievable he thought. Stefan looked back down at his book and continued to read. Slowly and carefully, taking in all the words. Carefully reading and trying to hide the bruising around his eye.
The school was bustling, it was the start of term and most were fairly excited to be getting back into the swing of things. Seeing friends and reading. Quidditch and chess. Everything seemed so normal. It was as if, Stefan had never left. Like, he'd just pressed pause on the school and left for a few weeks to press play upon his return. It was odd. He hadn't really taken much noticed of the people within the school. He liked how they smiled with friends, so oblivious to how some school was a lot more than just a place to learn from some. It was weird, how some could know so little and been through so little, and yet their were people like Stefan was seemed to have the entire world against him. Not the people, but just the world. Someone didn't like him. If they had, they wouldn't have given him less to deal with. He was twelve, motherless, with an awful father, in a household with very little money, and was unable to see any form of colour. He saw in black and white and shades of grey. If he wasn't too aware that it really was shades of grey. As not just mixture of black and white. It was just the way of the Slytherin. He had so much to deal with in his life. His ability to push through it and still be able to function with others was a wonder. His lapse had been the previous term, where nothing had really added up, and all that had really been in him was anger. Tired of being pushed around, but now the slytherin knew better. he had to bottle it all up. because having it in the open, had begun to scare Stefan. He'd been so like his father in those moments, and it had been something he was afraid of. Something he'd hoped would never happen, but they shared genes, it would obviously happen. But instead of thinking it over again in his head for the fourth hundredth time, Stefan was just going somewhere to read. So that he would be ahead of the others. Far in the distance. So that he'd still be at the right place when all the others were finishing the course. He would finish with them. Stefan sighed to himself as he walked through the student lounge. He was careful to keep his eyes down on the ground, and just head for the spot with an average amount of light, and with a small amount of people. It was fairly hard since a lot of people were refinding their friends. Stefan was alone. He just sat down and began to read. As he read, every so often he glanced up and looked around to the different people. Finally his eyes laid themselves upon a boy, who looked about fifth year. Stefan just looked at the boy for several seconds and then away. He wondered what it would be like to be that age. 15, 16. Older. It was something he was looking forward to. As much as he hoped he'd live to that age. It is achievable he thought. Stefan looked back down at his book and continued to read. Slowly and carefully, taking in all the words. Carefully reading and trying to hide the bruising around his eye.