Post by reggie on Oct 7, 2009 19:29:23 GMT -5
As the crisp light of a new day broke apart the lingering figments of night, rays of gold danced across the face of a young boy arousing him to awake. The shock of cold was complemented by the reflection of the autumn leaves outside, washing his world in auburn hues, and overpowering the chill of his bone by warming his very soul. He then stood, and walked to the window of small room and started to open the window. The panes shook violently as the frame staggered forcibly along it's time-worn track, filling the attic with a cacophonous vibration that echoed on through the countryside. He shuddered in empathy to the window's pain, taking it slowly upward until it rest quietly at halfway from the top. Looking down on Lake Keriador, the boy inhaled the brisk air deeply, taking in all the colors and sounds of his beloved home. He then let out a deep cathartic sigh, and looked wistfully off to the horizon, beginning his day with the wish that this moment would never end.
His blissful contentment was, as always, soon ended by a dark speck darting in and out of his beloved sunrise. He squinted, straining to make out what sort of animal it would be that would disturb his beautiful morning. Drunkenly, the bird dipped down, nearing the ground, and as if recovering it's balance, would overcompensate and rocket upwards. Leaning left and right, pitching and rolling, it looked as if the bird was encumbered to the point that it would die of the strain. Sadly, this was starting to seem morbidly humorous to him, watching a bird fight for it's life because it refused to release it's query. He chuckled to himself a bit, and continued to watch eagerly in hopes of the grand display of catastrophe through idiocy or preservation through intelligence. He found himself wondering which side he would choose until he realized that the clumsy, foolish bird was coming closer, and fast.
With a quick reconnoiter, he leaped to his feet, and began to force down the window, but the slides seemed to have given their last effort as they would not budge. he began to pull with all his weight with futility as the bird closed the distance with every breath. The bird was about the size of a softball by the time he had broken the deathgrip that the slide held, pushing it down but an inch before the window cocked and wedged itself permanently into the frame. He looked up to investigate, and by the time he realized what had happened, the bird was plowing headlong into his chest, driving him to the floor.
When he finally regained his composure, he looked up from his awkward stance, and saw letters and packages scattered all around his room. parcels, envelopes, packing strings and feathers adorned his room, and as he began to wonder why the new decorations were there, a confident "Whooo" broke his concentration. He searched the room, looking under his makeshift bed, and in all the darkened corners, trying to find the malicious bird that destroyed what little piece of the world he calls home.
"Whooo", he heard again, as the room darkend, and he saw the foul beast on his windowsill, bolstering out his chest and looking up with a decidedly condescending expression, holding a letter firmly in his beak. The boy was furious beyond words, and he stomped across the room, bent on ending the bird's life for intruding on his home. The war drum footfalls made clear his intentions as he used their rhythmic booming to solidify his goal. As he neared his target, he caught a glimpse of something on the letter that ended his blood lust instantly. It was a pattern, a knot of lines that he had seen before.
He snatched the letter from the bird's maw and looked closer; it matched. scrambling across the room, he took out a small box from under his bed and produced a small pocket watch. They were identical in every way. The broad and thin flowing lines, woven into a regal, dignified design, spared no intricacy in their resemblance. He then tore open the letter with great trepidation, to read what was this important to track him down. In simple, handwritten words, it said the following:
Regulous Noxatremer,
You are hereby invited to attend the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. Admission for acceptance shall simply be your arrival at the Cleagauh Station at 9am on Saturday. Your supplies have been tended to by father, as his last wishes bestowed on us.
Sincerely,
Beauxbatons Administration
Regulous sat on the floor, mouth agape, confused as to what had just occurred. He began to gather up the rest of the mail, looking for anymore letters marked with the knot, but ultimately found it to be peerless. Lost in this internal reflection, he began opening the other envelopes, some withered with age, and others with ink that looked to be still fresh. Reading snippets of information here and there, trying not to get too overwhelmed by this, he managed to ascertain the basic nature of all of this.
He was to become a wizard.
His blissful contentment was, as always, soon ended by a dark speck darting in and out of his beloved sunrise. He squinted, straining to make out what sort of animal it would be that would disturb his beautiful morning. Drunkenly, the bird dipped down, nearing the ground, and as if recovering it's balance, would overcompensate and rocket upwards. Leaning left and right, pitching and rolling, it looked as if the bird was encumbered to the point that it would die of the strain. Sadly, this was starting to seem morbidly humorous to him, watching a bird fight for it's life because it refused to release it's query. He chuckled to himself a bit, and continued to watch eagerly in hopes of the grand display of catastrophe through idiocy or preservation through intelligence. He found himself wondering which side he would choose until he realized that the clumsy, foolish bird was coming closer, and fast.
With a quick reconnoiter, he leaped to his feet, and began to force down the window, but the slides seemed to have given their last effort as they would not budge. he began to pull with all his weight with futility as the bird closed the distance with every breath. The bird was about the size of a softball by the time he had broken the deathgrip that the slide held, pushing it down but an inch before the window cocked and wedged itself permanently into the frame. He looked up to investigate, and by the time he realized what had happened, the bird was plowing headlong into his chest, driving him to the floor.
When he finally regained his composure, he looked up from his awkward stance, and saw letters and packages scattered all around his room. parcels, envelopes, packing strings and feathers adorned his room, and as he began to wonder why the new decorations were there, a confident "Whooo" broke his concentration. He searched the room, looking under his makeshift bed, and in all the darkened corners, trying to find the malicious bird that destroyed what little piece of the world he calls home.
"Whooo", he heard again, as the room darkend, and he saw the foul beast on his windowsill, bolstering out his chest and looking up with a decidedly condescending expression, holding a letter firmly in his beak. The boy was furious beyond words, and he stomped across the room, bent on ending the bird's life for intruding on his home. The war drum footfalls made clear his intentions as he used their rhythmic booming to solidify his goal. As he neared his target, he caught a glimpse of something on the letter that ended his blood lust instantly. It was a pattern, a knot of lines that he had seen before.
He snatched the letter from the bird's maw and looked closer; it matched. scrambling across the room, he took out a small box from under his bed and produced a small pocket watch. They were identical in every way. The broad and thin flowing lines, woven into a regal, dignified design, spared no intricacy in their resemblance. He then tore open the letter with great trepidation, to read what was this important to track him down. In simple, handwritten words, it said the following:
Regulous Noxatremer,
You are hereby invited to attend the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. Admission for acceptance shall simply be your arrival at the Cleagauh Station at 9am on Saturday. Your supplies have been tended to by father, as his last wishes bestowed on us.
Sincerely,
Beauxbatons Administration
Regulous sat on the floor, mouth agape, confused as to what had just occurred. He began to gather up the rest of the mail, looking for anymore letters marked with the knot, but ultimately found it to be peerless. Lost in this internal reflection, he began opening the other envelopes, some withered with age, and others with ink that looked to be still fresh. Reading snippets of information here and there, trying not to get too overwhelmed by this, he managed to ascertain the basic nature of all of this.
He was to become a wizard.