Down from the sky -Willow-

[remy]

The corridor leading to the Room of Requirement was empty. The halls were dark on a pitch black night, with clouds too thick to allow the moon or stars to shine through. It was a mysteriously abysmal night indeed, full of ominous silence simply no one could understand. Of course, the foreboding feeling that had been reverberating throughout the castle was stronger now than ever. Every single life was threatened by every shadow they passed, and every whisper they muttered could be a sentence of death. There was no more happiness, unless that happiness contained with it the torture of another. There was no more life, no more laughter, and certainly...there was no more freedom.

As Remy stepped into that empty corridor, he felt the chains on his heart and on his life. He felt the tugging emptiness that had arisen and grown since the moment he lost his only true human companion-- his father. Now he walked, alone and lost, searching for the answers that would never come to him. Answers he had lost even in music, and even more questions rising from ashes of former questions.

The door to the room had appeared. His endless need to find a way out, a safe haven from the hell he lived, had allowed the doors to the room to open. Without a sound, he stepped inside. It was a plain room, with nothing in it but a music stand, a round stool, and an acoustic guitar leaning against a plain stone wall. Remy had been thinking of his way out, and the room had delivered to him simplicity, with a guitar. He did not need to think twice...Remy grabbed the light acoustic, went to the comfortable stool, propped the instrument on his knee and immediately began to strum.

Music poured out like water flowing in a river. It was breathlessness like no other. It was a million words unable to be worded, a million feelings kept from being expressed...tears and blood...all in the single stroke of bronze colored strings. Remy poured his heart out in a melody invented on the spot, a song forming without meaning in his mind. And in the notes of the unknown, unmarked song, Remy could feel himself almost weep. It was a sound so strong with emotion that...anyone listening would have had their heart melted. And anyone could have listened...for the lost, lonely boy left the door open in hopes that someone from the world would hear.

[Willow Oslemi]

It was the sound of madness. A ringing sound in her ear that grew. Echoing off the walls of her mind that she didn’t want to put up but her sanity constructed in fear of it growing. A sound that was driving her mad, a motion of insanity, a charter of fantasy, a building block of an illusion of a crazy thought that would always cross her mind. Why not now? Why don’t you just stand up, walk away from this, and live a life of illusions. Cast your own world of magic. Leave those who hinder you, those who interfere; the assumers, the accusers, the instigators, the liars, the weavers of an evil so powerful that you can just shield off with a simple flicker of magic you don’t even have to lift a finger to create?

[/I]

But that’s all she could be good at! Creating the yin to the yang. Creating the illusion to the reality. The opposite half of time and space. It didn’t mean that the evil wasn’t there. Just that she chose not to acknowledge it. By weaving an illusion of safety and comfort she was never truly safe. Nothing ever made her truly safe. Nothing ever really even made her feel free enough to feel that safety she craved for. The closest she has gotten to was skateboarding and that was because she had the freedom to fall, the freedom to flip, to jump, to spin, to speed, to stop, to slide, to trick out, even to wipe out.

It was sad that living with six brothers and sisters and being the third oldest of the total seven brought her nothing but complete loneliness. Dorian was traveling for an extended period of a time; he loved his stories and wanted to collect as much as he could. Diazi was a vile creation her parents created that favored the Slyhtherin’s dark side and even had the mark on her wrist to prove her allegiance. She hated Willow and she wanted Willow gone. Diazi firmly believed that Willow was a disgrace to Hogwarts for being the “Friendly Slytherin.” She was only in that house because she was cunning and loved to mess with people’s minds with her illusions. Her younger brother had cancer and spent frequent time in the hospital and the younger set of twins spent so much time in their own little twinny world they hardly believed in a reality or a fantasy. It was just their world. Nothing else mattered. Her parents were busy providing money, taking care of Ramon, or just spending time with each other.

Now, Willow was fed up with these thoughts and decided a little skateboarding could help. Most people were outside enjoying the years final month and the amazing weather it brought. It left the stone floors available to her wheels with nearly unlimited range of motion. She moved everywhere, grinding stair rails, flipping over benches, or just smoothly gliding past portraits and capturing a brief image of their existence. She could paint a map of this school if she could.

But she never remembered the music that she heard that day. It was a forlorn tune, calling out for some company. Her foot stopped the motion of the wheels, her ears intune with the sound. It was more lonely than her own sound of madness. Hers was insanity, his was a plea. Picking up her board, she crept toward the open door, and peeked in, her slender fingers gripping the door edge, her dark eyes peeked in hoping to see a creator of the beautiful music. Her eyes caught the image of the boy, an epitome of “tall dark and handsome”. Her heart picked up its rhythm just by the sight of him playing his instrument with such passion she could only hope to have. She moved a bit into the room, pushing some of her brown hair behind her ear feeling dull in front of this boy and smiled softly when he was done. That was beautiful. Her voice sounded through the emptiness of the air.[/blockquote][/blockquote][/size]