sobbing alone in front of a haunted piano - Printable Version
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RE: sobbing alone in front of a haunted piano - November Malfoy - August 1, 2021
The life upon her yellow hair but not within her eyes--
The life still there, upon her hair--the death upon her eyes.
The life still there, upon her hair--the death upon her eyes.
A part of her desperately wished she could rewind back to the moment where fate decided to seat them next to one another. As much as it thrilled her to have found out about Miss Dempsey's fine taste in literature and music, she felt blinded by a spotlight she'd been wholly unprepared for. She needed time to process it all, and her preferred scenario would have seen a third party hold this conversation with Miss Dempsey whilst she listened and observed with rapt attention. She couldn't process this new information, reconfigure how she behaved around Miss Dempsey, and engage in an ongoing conversation with her all at the same time!
For example Miss Dempsey would probably prefer it if she responded in a similar, easy-going manner but it was so far out of her comfort zone and she was already wrong-footed... She'd think her a dull creature once more and that would be that. And besides, she hadn't a clue how to address the last part!
OUTFIT | Tag: Porphyria Dempsey | Notes:
RE: sobbing alone in front of a haunted piano - Porphyria Dempsey - August 22, 2021
Whether good or truly terrible, Porphyria did usually get some reaction when she talked to people, so this lingering silence was... strange. She peered at Mrs. Malfoy, finding no more reaction in her face than from her mouth.
She was – a little bewildered by this. Had she broken her somehow? Had she prodded a little too much, gone a little too far, offended her so thoroughly that she had forced November Malfoy to close off entirely and blank her, to her face, in some ladylike defence?
Well, no matter. The music would strike up again soon, surely – and until then, Porphyria wasn’t scared of silence.
She was – a little bewildered by this. Had she broken her somehow? Had she prodded a little too much, gone a little too far, offended her so thoroughly that she had forced November Malfoy to close off entirely and blank her, to her face, in some ladylike defence?
Well, no matter. The music would strike up again soon, surely – and until then, Porphyria wasn’t scared of silence.