Liam Nightray
Well-Known Member
- Messages
- 530
- OOC First Name
- Raze
This is a fanfiction/roleplay. Nothing in this roleplay has really happened. This is a result of a skype conversation that was started by the lovely Teigan. This is set on 2047, Liam Nightray and Jeremiah Raven were twenty eight years old. Jeremiah was married to Arianna Nightray, and Liam was married to Taylor Blare. Arianna was dead, and this is set on her funeral.
It was funny how a flimsy piece of wood could bring comfort or terror. On the other side nothing more than an endless corridor of shadows and things he didn't really want to face. On the other was the safest place where he could be sane, thought that wasn't saying much since everybody came and went as they pleased. It has been hours, and the rain outside still hadn't stopped, and so was the rain inside the room. The room was void of any noise except for the occasionally sound of someone's cries or of the servants offering their visitors something to eat. This wasn't a party. Not really. Or perhaps it was, a farewell party that is.
Today's his cousin's funeral and it was all that damn lion's fault.
Liam Nightray was standing by the window, his eyes fixed on the black and elegant box that held his cousins' body. It looked beautiful, yes, but was still only a box. He frowned as he heard the door softly clicked shut and his eyes traveled to the only other person remaining inside the room, Jeremiah Raven, silently wishing that he had killed him every time he had meant to all those years ago. If he did, the Arianna wouldn't have died. It was his fault. He shuddered at the thought and forced himself to stop. Thinking about it wasn't going to change anything. He should kill him now.
The twenty eight years old continued to glare at the other. It was so easy to fall back on old habits with the other around. The darkness that had always threatened to drown him and swallow him into nothingness always felt closer, like it knew where exactly to hit him. He wouldn't admit it nor did he realized it, but when he was in a bad mood, mocking, blaming, and continuously killing Miah in his mind has always lifted his mood again. But this time, mocking him would do nothing.
Silence. There was no sound but the sound of rain outside and the only source of light in the room were the lamps situated near his cousin's coffin. No one had entered the room since the last man left earlier. There were only the two of them there, yet the room felt too crowded already and Liam felt suffocated. He usually appreciated silence, but not this time. He wanted to see the twisted expression of anger and despair in Jeremiah's face. This was his fault, or at least, he kept telling himself that it was, it made things easier for him. Getting angry and hating the man was easier than consoling and comforting him for the lost of his wife. He wasn't made that way. He stormed right to where the man was and stood in front of him, his shadow looming over his form. His eyes were hard and cold. He had grown taller over the years but the boy, no, the man before him was still taller than he was, something which he didn't want to accept. He didn't know why he had to compete with the former Gryffindor in everything, but he just did. He didn't want to lose to him in any way. Though in more ways than one, he probably already did. He grabbed Jeremiah's hand in an attempt to make him look at him. He needed to release his anger and there was no one else in the room to be on the receiving end of it except Miah. Though in reality, even if there was someone else in the room, Jeremiah would still be in the receiving end. He pulled at his arm, his grip tight, he was still glaring and the door was still close. "Say something," he ordered, though instead of keeping a calm and cold tone, it came out as a yell, his voice echoing inside the room, and he was trembling, both due to anger and due to something else he couldn't pin point. He pulled at the former Gryffindor's arm again, saying the same words again. He needed to break the silence else it would drive him mad.
It was funny how a flimsy piece of wood could bring comfort or terror. On the other side nothing more than an endless corridor of shadows and things he didn't really want to face. On the other was the safest place where he could be sane, thought that wasn't saying much since everybody came and went as they pleased. It has been hours, and the rain outside still hadn't stopped, and so was the rain inside the room. The room was void of any noise except for the occasionally sound of someone's cries or of the servants offering their visitors something to eat. This wasn't a party. Not really. Or perhaps it was, a farewell party that is.
Today's his cousin's funeral and it was all that damn lion's fault.
Liam Nightray was standing by the window, his eyes fixed on the black and elegant box that held his cousins' body. It looked beautiful, yes, but was still only a box. He frowned as he heard the door softly clicked shut and his eyes traveled to the only other person remaining inside the room, Jeremiah Raven, silently wishing that he had killed him every time he had meant to all those years ago. If he did, the Arianna wouldn't have died. It was his fault. He shuddered at the thought and forced himself to stop. Thinking about it wasn't going to change anything. He should kill him now.
The twenty eight years old continued to glare at the other. It was so easy to fall back on old habits with the other around. The darkness that had always threatened to drown him and swallow him into nothingness always felt closer, like it knew where exactly to hit him. He wouldn't admit it nor did he realized it, but when he was in a bad mood, mocking, blaming, and continuously killing Miah in his mind has always lifted his mood again. But this time, mocking him would do nothing.
Silence. There was no sound but the sound of rain outside and the only source of light in the room were the lamps situated near his cousin's coffin. No one had entered the room since the last man left earlier. There were only the two of them there, yet the room felt too crowded already and Liam felt suffocated. He usually appreciated silence, but not this time. He wanted to see the twisted expression of anger and despair in Jeremiah's face. This was his fault, or at least, he kept telling himself that it was, it made things easier for him. Getting angry and hating the man was easier than consoling and comforting him for the lost of his wife. He wasn't made that way. He stormed right to where the man was and stood in front of him, his shadow looming over his form. His eyes were hard and cold. He had grown taller over the years but the boy, no, the man before him was still taller than he was, something which he didn't want to accept. He didn't know why he had to compete with the former Gryffindor in everything, but he just did. He didn't want to lose to him in any way. Though in more ways than one, he probably already did. He grabbed Jeremiah's hand in an attempt to make him look at him. He needed to release his anger and there was no one else in the room to be on the receiving end of it except Miah. Though in reality, even if there was someone else in the room, Jeremiah would still be in the receiving end. He pulled at his arm, his grip tight, he was still glaring and the door was still close. "Say something," he ordered, though instead of keeping a calm and cold tone, it came out as a yell, his voice echoing inside the room, and he was trembling, both due to anger and due to something else he couldn't pin point. He pulled at the former Gryffindor's arm again, saying the same words again. He needed to break the silence else it would drive him mad.