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Post by Salazar Slytherin on Apr 30, 2008 13:33:29 GMT
Salazar woke up to the feeling of his brain trying to escape his skull. If he hadn't have known better then he would've suspected that there was something seriously wrong with him and considered seeking medical assistance. However, Salazar was well accustomed to the pain that followed a night of ale-drinking and so escaped the humiliation of asking someone for help. Whether this was a fortunate or unfortunate outcome was still undecided.
Pushing the sheets away with a disgruntled moan, Salazar got up from his bed and crossed the room to the large wardrobe opposite. He opened the ornate, wooden doors and an array of finely made garments were revealed to him. Being the son of a talented clothier meant that he had learned to produce his own fabrics, as he had done in this instance, then have a tailor construct them into something wearable.
Salazar dressed in his most favoured ensemble, which consisted of an olive tunic, dark green breeches and an emerald cloak with silver, stitched patterns across the hem and cuffs. He left his bed chambers in the dungeons and headed quickly towards the Great Hall in fear that if he failed to attend the first 'real' meal of the year (the feast from the night before didn't count of course), then Rowena would most likely string him up naked by his feet and beat him repeatedly until- Actually, that didn't sound all that bad, if you liked that sort of stuff, which Salazar did.
As he walked down the dungeon corridors he found them surprisingly empty. It was too early to give this any serious or significant thought though. So he didn't. Instead he retreated to the subconscious of his own mind and alternate between continuing with his sick fantasy of what Rowena would do to him if he didn't show up and seeing how many parts of Godric's existence he could curse in the time it took him to reach his designated seat.
The count was at thirty seven by the time he had reached the Great Hall. But it was completely forgot once he'd opened the door. Many of the students craned their heads around to try catch a glimpse at the idiot who'd turned up late to the meal, even after Professor Gryffindor had explicitly told them of the importance of being on time this morning since their timetables were to be given out before breakfast. The interest soon faded and they returned to their chatter.
If looks could kill Salazar would've dropped down dead as soon as he had entered the room. But luckily for him a spell to kill someone hadn't been invented yet so he was able to walk arrogantly between the rows of house tables towards where the staff were seated, unable to keep the smirk from his face that had been put there by the defiant entrance he had made.
Taking his seat between Godric and Rowena, Salazar looked to the woman on his left and the smirk quickly disappeared. The was no doubt in his a mind as to whether she was using her brilliant man to plan a painful and humiliating demise for him. The look of sadistic pleasure in her eyes was too great for it to be hidden, even behind the pure rage that was also evident. |
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