Post by Deleted on Jun 15, 2017 23:08:39 GMT -7
March 2024; Beauxbatons Carriage
References @dastan (@kierra)
References @dastan (@kierra)
Wherever Dastan had been lately, it was becoming more and more difficult to find him. The last she had seen him, Gwendolen had been almost convinced that he had lost interest in her completely. Even if the thought that he didn't reciprocate her feelings hurt, she needed to know where he was—just to clear things up between her and the one boy who had—maybe, almost—been close to being her boyfriend. It was while walking back to Ravenclaw Tower with a group of her peers that Gwen posed the question, hoping that she wouldn't be ignored in favor of discussions about the Second Task. “Has anyone seen Dastan?”
“Who?”
Gwen didn't have the energy to correct the boy who had responded, even though he should have said “whom”. “Dastan Oscarsson,” she elaborated, her voice both angry with impatience and frantic from not knowing what was going on. With classes factored in, it had been even longer since she had last seen him than she had first thought. “He was my date to the Yule Ball. About… this tall? Brown hair? Beauxbatons?”
“Dunno.”
She sighed. Dastan had become distant, as though he were distracted by something. His brother's death hadn't been easy on him, but she had thought that he would come out of that funk. Her singing—music—that had helped. (She had thought so, anyway.) Maybe Xanthippe had been right; she'd gone and rushed things, and now Dastan didn't want anything to do with her. He hadn't even said why.
The only way to know anything for certain was to check down at the Beauxbatons Carriage, and Gwen veered off to the side and back in the same direction from which she had just come to get to the bottom of things. Someone there must have known where he was, if he wasn't there himself.
The door into the carriage loomed in front of her. She knocked and explained her reason for calling, why she had run all the way there.
Answering the door was a young woman not much taller than Gwendolen herself. She must have been in the process of unbraiding her hair from its plait, Gwen thought as she looked at her. The strands were loosely clinging to one another. “Dastan? He has gone.”
“…Gone?” Gwen repeated, not sure what to make of what she had just been told. He must have simply stepped out for a few minutes. Maybe she would be able to catch him before their curfew set in. “If you could tell him that Gwendolen Maddox—”
“He has… Comment dit-on?”
Although trying to be patient with the other girl, who had turned to consult one of her classmates, Gwen let out a small huff. She just wanted a straight answer out of someone.
“He has abandoned school,” the girl explained. She had returned to pulling the braided strands apart from one another. “He is no longer a student of Beauxbatons.”
Gone. For good. “He… dropped out?” Gwen gasped, understanding what had been said but confused as to why he had done it. He was clever. It was his final year of school, and then he was going to go on and play Quidditch professionally. He was going to teach her how to fly.
The Beauxbatons girl gave a shrug of her shoulders, seemingly sorry that she couldn't be of further help—or just wanting the Hogwarts girl to go away before she burst into tears. Gwen didn't know which was the case, but it didn't matter. She had her answer, and the carriage door was closed again before she could say anything more.
“Oh…” Walking back down the steps of the carriage, Gwen felt as though someone had given her a swift punch to the gut. She tried not to stumble, but she didn't know if she could help it. Dastan was gone without a trace; Xanthippe was right about everything, and she looked like a lovesick idiot.
“Who?”
Gwen didn't have the energy to correct the boy who had responded, even though he should have said “whom”. “Dastan Oscarsson,” she elaborated, her voice both angry with impatience and frantic from not knowing what was going on. With classes factored in, it had been even longer since she had last seen him than she had first thought. “He was my date to the Yule Ball. About… this tall? Brown hair? Beauxbatons?”
“Dunno.”
She sighed. Dastan had become distant, as though he were distracted by something. His brother's death hadn't been easy on him, but she had thought that he would come out of that funk. Her singing—music—that had helped. (She had thought so, anyway.) Maybe Xanthippe had been right; she'd gone and rushed things, and now Dastan didn't want anything to do with her. He hadn't even said why.
The only way to know anything for certain was to check down at the Beauxbatons Carriage, and Gwen veered off to the side and back in the same direction from which she had just come to get to the bottom of things. Someone there must have known where he was, if he wasn't there himself.
The door into the carriage loomed in front of her. She knocked and explained her reason for calling, why she had run all the way there.
Answering the door was a young woman not much taller than Gwendolen herself. She must have been in the process of unbraiding her hair from its plait, Gwen thought as she looked at her. The strands were loosely clinging to one another. “Dastan? He has gone.”
“…Gone?” Gwen repeated, not sure what to make of what she had just been told. He must have simply stepped out for a few minutes. Maybe she would be able to catch him before their curfew set in. “If you could tell him that Gwendolen Maddox—”
“He has… Comment dit-on?”
Although trying to be patient with the other girl, who had turned to consult one of her classmates, Gwen let out a small huff. She just wanted a straight answer out of someone.
“He has abandoned school,” the girl explained. She had returned to pulling the braided strands apart from one another. “He is no longer a student of Beauxbatons.”
Gone. For good. “He… dropped out?” Gwen gasped, understanding what had been said but confused as to why he had done it. He was clever. It was his final year of school, and then he was going to go on and play Quidditch professionally. He was going to teach her how to fly.
The Beauxbatons girl gave a shrug of her shoulders, seemingly sorry that she couldn't be of further help—or just wanting the Hogwarts girl to go away before she burst into tears. Gwen didn't know which was the case, but it didn't matter. She had her answer, and the carriage door was closed again before she could say anything more.
“Oh…” Walking back down the steps of the carriage, Gwen felt as though someone had given her a swift punch to the gut. She tried not to stumble, but she didn't know if she could help it. Dastan was gone without a trace; Xanthippe was right about everything, and she looked like a lovesick idiot.