Post by Deleted on Sept 5, 2014 18:59:59 GMT -7
KNITTING @ NIGHT.
The Slytherin common room had been left unused. It was very late on a school night, so of course it was empty, much to Leera's relief. With a large leather handbag draped over her shoulder, she went over to a chair closest to the unlit fireplace and took a seat. A shiver shot through her, the coldness of the chair startling her at first, but now relaxing her. The common room had always been freezingly bitter, especially in the winter. Having slept in the Slytherin dormitories for nearly six years now, Leera was used to icy the temperature for the most part.
It was just as comforting for her as it was for those who craved chocolate. Pulling out a suitcase that somewhat resembled an art kit but fatter in size, she popped it open. Inside were her kitting tools, all organized in little sections, the kneedles organized by size and the yarn sorted by color. Leera took out a small knitting needle and a large ball of unused lavender yarn, and set the suitcase on the floor. She made a cast on, and begin to knit away.
Sleep had been such a dreadful task lately. She had tried every sleeping position, with blankets, without blankets, with pillows, without pillows. She even attempted counting sheep, but it made her sleepless state much worse. Every time she tried to drift off into a dreaming slumber, Park Suk Chul's face, her father's face, made an unwelcoming appearance. Just yesterday in the Great Hall, an owl she didn't recognize dropped a thick cream-colored envelope on top of her head. The name and address wasn't recognizable, but after she finished reading the letter, she immediately abandoned her lunch and rushed upstairs to the Astronomy tower, and cried.
Leera and crying were an extremely rare mix, and for the rest of the day, she remained at the tower. When her friends inquired what happened, she created a lie about an uncle from South Korea recently passing, and assured them that she was going to be alright, which was another lie. She absolutely despised lying to her friends, the last thing she needed was for them bombarding them with several questions and long rants about their father being a bloody git and whatnot. She needed be left alone to her thoughts...but she wasn't alone, at least she wasn't going to be. Behind her, she heard footsteps on the stone floor tapping louder and louder.
Leera turned around. She was certain someone was going to approach her.
It was just as comforting for her as it was for those who craved chocolate. Pulling out a suitcase that somewhat resembled an art kit but fatter in size, she popped it open. Inside were her kitting tools, all organized in little sections, the kneedles organized by size and the yarn sorted by color. Leera took out a small knitting needle and a large ball of unused lavender yarn, and set the suitcase on the floor. She made a cast on, and begin to knit away.
Sleep had been such a dreadful task lately. She had tried every sleeping position, with blankets, without blankets, with pillows, without pillows. She even attempted counting sheep, but it made her sleepless state much worse. Every time she tried to drift off into a dreaming slumber, Park Suk Chul's face, her father's face, made an unwelcoming appearance. Just yesterday in the Great Hall, an owl she didn't recognize dropped a thick cream-colored envelope on top of her head. The name and address wasn't recognizable, but after she finished reading the letter, she immediately abandoned her lunch and rushed upstairs to the Astronomy tower, and cried.
Leera and crying were an extremely rare mix, and for the rest of the day, she remained at the tower. When her friends inquired what happened, she created a lie about an uncle from South Korea recently passing, and assured them that she was going to be alright, which was another lie. She absolutely despised lying to her friends, the last thing she needed was for them bombarding them with several questions and long rants about their father being a bloody git and whatnot. She needed be left alone to her thoughts...but she wasn't alone, at least she wasn't going to be. Behind her, she heard footsteps on the stone floor tapping louder and louder.
Leera turned around. She was certain someone was going to approach her.
WORD COUNT: 421.
TAGGED: Open.
WARDROBE: Too lazy to Polyvore it.
NOTES: Let's just say she's obviously wearing pj's.
