- Messages
- 1,386
- OOC First Name
- Amanda
- Blood Status
- Pure Blood
- Relationship Status
- Widow
- Age
- August 9, 1978 (76)
Tristan walked up the lane of the lonely house, the windows boarded up and the door hanging weakly on its hinges. Weeds overpowered the once beautiful garden, and the grass was long and untamed, creeping over the sidewalk like rather stringy tentacles. He stopped and stared at his old house for a moment; this he had shared with his wife and his daughter. It had been a Muggle Home, creeping with hints of magic, as this was the way that Lorelei had liked it. Tristan had bought it for her just days after they had been engaged, the owner selling it quickly and glad to get rid of it. Tristan had the old home fixed by none other than muggle builders, and had been quite a nice place to stay in when it was all finished. The white paint was flawless, complete with forest green shutters and a red door. Lorelei's garden was filled with all sorts of flowers, both magical and non magical as had been bought for her.
But now it was abandoned and dirty, condemned long ago but left standing in Tristan Drage's name. Every so often he would send a letter, confirming that he still owned the house. But he had not returned here in ten years, and it needed a lot of help. The paint was chipped and broken, the gutters clogged up by rather disgusting leaves.
Taking a deep breath, he strolled up the stone steps, and the planks of the floorboard creaking beneath his feet as he walked on the porch. With ease he opened the door, which sorely needed oil on its hinges, emitting a horrific screeching noise. A sense of loneliness rushed through him as he entered the house; there had been so many happy memories here, but they were long gone and scattered to the four winds. His wife was dead, and his only child hated him, being far away at school. Life could have been so different for him. In fact, Lorelei might not be dead, and they would have had more children. He remembered with agony that she had been three months pregnant when she had died, carrying his son and taking him with her.
He shook his head as he entered the kitchen. Decisions, how matter badly they had screwed up his life, had been made and there was nothing he could do about it. The cupboards were dusty, some hanging on by just one hinge. He could see the dishes, unused for so long, peeking out from above the sink. A vase void of flowers decorated the table, a coat of dust sticking to its once lovely pink hue. The chairs were in disarray, as if someone had just sat in them.
Tristan made his way through the rest of the house, the living room with it's outdated tv and dusty couches, a separate dining room, and a bathroom not having seen a drop of water for ages. The bedrooms upstairs were the same as ever before, the beds made and coated with dust. As he made his way into Estrella's room, his heart dropped; several toys she had played with lay on the floor, as she had decided not to or was unable to take them with her when she left. A toy broomstick, which had been one of her favorites, sat on her bed. He imagined that she had been upset when she hadn't been able to take it into the muggle world; as a five year old, she had probably cried. He tried not to think about it. He picked up a stuffed toy cat, its oddly purple fur ruffled and clumped with misuse. He held it for an odd moment, and then placed it back on the flowered comforter of his daughters bed. He started when he saw an object wedged between the wall and her nightstand; using his skinny fingers, he managed to pry the object out, and when he turned it around, it felt as if someone had taken a bat to his head.
Beneath all the dust smiled himself and Lorelei, a family picture taken shortly before he had went "missing" in Norway. Upon wiping away the dust he saw that Estrella, sitting in his lap, was beaming also, revealing a tooth that had fallen out. Lorelei was wearing a pale blue dress, going well with her fair complexion and dark hair. Tristan himself wore a dress shirt, his expression happy looking but his dark eyes vacant. Even then, he had had leaving his family in his mind, when he had first joined the Death Eaters. He just didn't expect to leave them for so long. Things would be so different...
He pocketed the picture, frame and all, in his robes. He continued to wander the house, noting what needed to be fixed and reminding himself to have the electricity turned back on. After so long, the Drage Residence had an occupant, one that would stay there for a while.
But now it was abandoned and dirty, condemned long ago but left standing in Tristan Drage's name. Every so often he would send a letter, confirming that he still owned the house. But he had not returned here in ten years, and it needed a lot of help. The paint was chipped and broken, the gutters clogged up by rather disgusting leaves.
Taking a deep breath, he strolled up the stone steps, and the planks of the floorboard creaking beneath his feet as he walked on the porch. With ease he opened the door, which sorely needed oil on its hinges, emitting a horrific screeching noise. A sense of loneliness rushed through him as he entered the house; there had been so many happy memories here, but they were long gone and scattered to the four winds. His wife was dead, and his only child hated him, being far away at school. Life could have been so different for him. In fact, Lorelei might not be dead, and they would have had more children. He remembered with agony that she had been three months pregnant when she had died, carrying his son and taking him with her.
He shook his head as he entered the kitchen. Decisions, how matter badly they had screwed up his life, had been made and there was nothing he could do about it. The cupboards were dusty, some hanging on by just one hinge. He could see the dishes, unused for so long, peeking out from above the sink. A vase void of flowers decorated the table, a coat of dust sticking to its once lovely pink hue. The chairs were in disarray, as if someone had just sat in them.
Tristan made his way through the rest of the house, the living room with it's outdated tv and dusty couches, a separate dining room, and a bathroom not having seen a drop of water for ages. The bedrooms upstairs were the same as ever before, the beds made and coated with dust. As he made his way into Estrella's room, his heart dropped; several toys she had played with lay on the floor, as she had decided not to or was unable to take them with her when she left. A toy broomstick, which had been one of her favorites, sat on her bed. He imagined that she had been upset when she hadn't been able to take it into the muggle world; as a five year old, she had probably cried. He tried not to think about it. He picked up a stuffed toy cat, its oddly purple fur ruffled and clumped with misuse. He held it for an odd moment, and then placed it back on the flowered comforter of his daughters bed. He started when he saw an object wedged between the wall and her nightstand; using his skinny fingers, he managed to pry the object out, and when he turned it around, it felt as if someone had taken a bat to his head.
Beneath all the dust smiled himself and Lorelei, a family picture taken shortly before he had went "missing" in Norway. Upon wiping away the dust he saw that Estrella, sitting in his lap, was beaming also, revealing a tooth that had fallen out. Lorelei was wearing a pale blue dress, going well with her fair complexion and dark hair. Tristan himself wore a dress shirt, his expression happy looking but his dark eyes vacant. Even then, he had had leaving his family in his mind, when he had first joined the Death Eaters. He just didn't expect to leave them for so long. Things would be so different...
He pocketed the picture, frame and all, in his robes. He continued to wander the house, noting what needed to be fixed and reminding himself to have the electricity turned back on. After so long, the Drage Residence had an occupant, one that would stay there for a while.