- Messages
- 775
- Blood Status
- Mixed Blood
- Relationship Status
- Single (Looking)
- Wand
- Knotted 14 Inch Rigid Spruce Wand with Doxy Wing Core
- Age
- 3/2001
With the brief reprieve that Irene had been given from work, she decided to head to Russia where she hadn't visited since she'd come of age. The trip had been a present from her parents and Irene had loved the chance to explore the country on her own. She'd stuck mostly to the wizarding village during that stay because her parents had asked her to and she never disobeyed her parents. At least not back then. Much had changed in Irene's life since then, but she was glad to see that the areas she had frequented were still very much the same. With her cloak over her head, Irene continued to walk down the street looking for the bakery where she had spent much of that week.
Finding the spot easily, Irene reached for the door just as a man stepped out and passed right by her. Irene's heart kicked up a few notches. He looked so very much like her father and Irene wondered how her father was doing. There hadn't been any contact from him, not even so much as an owl in over five years and she knew that her brother had certainly not heard from him. After the death of his wife, the man had not been the same and it must have been easy for him to forget a son who was full of talent yet had no obedience or control and a daughter with no apparent gift and who also lacked the remorse to practice the dark arts. Irene had learned at a young age what the Finches were and had grown up surrounded by whispers and mentions of work that the family was doing to help other dark wizards. Being exposed to such things did something to a person especially a child even if they tried their best to not overhear things.
Ordering a drink to warm herself, Irene turned to the row of tables where many were seated bent over newspapers. She made her way swiftly over to an empty table and set her cup down so that she could unfasten her cloak and take it off. Sitting in the seat which was right by the window, Irene wondered what she should do with her day.
Finding the spot easily, Irene reached for the door just as a man stepped out and passed right by her. Irene's heart kicked up a few notches. He looked so very much like her father and Irene wondered how her father was doing. There hadn't been any contact from him, not even so much as an owl in over five years and she knew that her brother had certainly not heard from him. After the death of his wife, the man had not been the same and it must have been easy for him to forget a son who was full of talent yet had no obedience or control and a daughter with no apparent gift and who also lacked the remorse to practice the dark arts. Irene had learned at a young age what the Finches were and had grown up surrounded by whispers and mentions of work that the family was doing to help other dark wizards. Being exposed to such things did something to a person especially a child even if they tried their best to not overhear things.
Ordering a drink to warm herself, Irene turned to the row of tables where many were seated bent over newspapers. She made her way swiftly over to an empty table and set her cup down so that she could unfasten her cloak and take it off. Sitting in the seat which was right by the window, Irene wondered what she should do with her day.