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hey maxieh! long time no..... erm......
comment!
great chapter 1 question...
i didn't know they had fajitas in ur story... obtain a wrap...
i suppose you could hav a hot one to keep u warm :s
(i no wat u ment im tryin 2 b funy!)
great chapter 1 question...
i didn't know they had fajitas in ur story... obtain a wrap...
i suppose you could hav a hot one to keep u warm :s
(i no wat u ment im tryin 2 b funy!)
LOL. I was actually going to explain I meant wrap as in... wrap wrap, not fajita. I'm glad you explained. xD
Does this mean you want to see a fajita in the story?
Hello Maxie, It's good to get to read another post from you.
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“Nicola,” Antonin repeated.
The word might have sounded clumsy, had the person behind it been different, but his intonation gave it a certain class, as if he was attempting, in some very subtle way, to get a feel of the name; and gauge, from the sound, the personality that could lie behind it.
Or perhaps, that did lie behind it.
I don't intend this to offend you, and I hope it doesn't, but while I was reading this I pictured in my mind someone who Antonin reminds me of. I've never seen one in real life, but you see them on TV sometimes. Professional Wine Tasters. The ones that dress in formal attire, and conduct their buisness with a cold indifference, but pays close attention to their job at hand. His only goal is to determine the different qualities of a wine, and to taste if his wine he happens to be testing meets that code of excellence. Nothing is ever given away in his eyes, or actions, but can be heard saying in a distinguished voice the different qualities the wine has.
Nicola sounds like she would be a good friend to have. Unassuming. Non Judgemental, and fun if the occation arises.
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No wonder, of course – he looked, she affirmed to her own self, a downright gentleman, the kind that only a very fine family can produce --- and she, Nicola Shlyre Miller, ought to know quite well, having so defiantly mingled with the 'good' - or rather, rich - lot, despite the fact that the ‘finer’ they tended to be, the more pronounced [as a general rule] was there dislike of muggle-borns.
OK, so now, I don't know what to think of her. She has me baffled.
I wonder why she needs entrance into the ball. It sounds like she's on a mission.
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He would have no reason, to follow her.
Unless he wants to.
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“The pleasure is all mine, mademoiselle,” Antonin – he, for whom it was like child’s play to read her face, someone who was more amused, than anything else, by what he perceived went on, in her mind – returned warmly.
I think she might have a harder time axcusing herself from him then she thinks.
Great post Maxie! I hope we learn what has become of Jenna soon. I'm not telling you what to write mind you. I'm just curious out of my mind! Love you bunches, Maxie. I'll be watching for your next post.
Hello Maxie, It's good to get to read another post from you.
'Lo, Connie. <3
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I don't intend this to offend you --
You didn't. Feedback, including constructive criticism, is always a plus. I like your take on it, love. But I think Antonin is a tad subtler.
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Nicola sounds like she would be a good friend to have. Unassuming. Non Judgemental, and fun if the occation arises.
She is all that. But there's the drawback of her non-judgmental-ness coming to an end, when the people aren't 'her kind' - rich.
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Unless he wants to.
You think he will?
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I think she might have a harder time axcusing herself from him then she thinks.
Yes. You have to read between the lines, to get that... and more.
-shiftyshifty-
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Great post Maxie! I hope we learn what has become of Jenna soon. I'm not telling you what to write mind you. I'm just curious out of my mind! Love you bunches, Maxie. I'll be watching for your next post.
Thanks, Connie. The story is already written, and only needs to be edited. =] I hope to have another update for y'all, soon.
Sudden in its birth, hauntingly slow in its death, the scream that the winds had scattered through the remnants that had once been a town well-loved, faltered, wavered and faded away, as if the rock-and-stone ruins it had scattered over, had shattered it into tiny pieces.
Then it was the night and Jenna, the silver tincture that shaded her eyes dark, darker than it had ever been, as she took in the scene that lay in front of her, not horrible for its sable backdrop, not horrible for the bare rawness of the ruins that spread out coldly in front of her, not even horrible because it held, today, what she had neither expected nor thought of expecting, but for the knowledge that clawed her, the knowledge that rendered her immobile – the knowledge that there was more than a mere chance, that she knew who was behind this.
That she, having decided she knew him so well, had not expected this of him.
The wolf was, in itself, not more vicious than she could imagine – she knew the Dark Arts, she knew the Creatures it could spawn and employ, and even twist; and, that considered, she could very well imagine a more brutal creature. Which did not mean that the one in front of her was a docile one. It had unnaturally large eyes, perhaps the gaze it held itself a weapon, a ruthless kind that held no emotions – not even animal or beastly emotions – and they were pure, pure scarlet, devoid of pupil or any other tincture.
The plain indifference in them was fear-provoking.
Still frozen, not by fear but by self-deception of another kind altogether, Jenna took it in. She was not a coward, never had been one, but there was no doubt that the emotionless, scarlet glint of the creature’s gaze caused a shiver to run down her spine. She took a step backwards, when the wolf tensed, fully aware that it could lunge at her any moment, and yet there was something calmly cold in her eyes, perhaps fury at her own self for being what many call an emotional fool.
The wolf, of course, did not pause for more than a second. That was the second in which it looked at her, and she looked right back, right into its viciously empty eyes, and then it had lunged out from the shadows, its beastly form deathly dark but extremely visible against the moon-illuminated skyline behind.
She did not have the presence of mind to step back, scream or run – the first should have been an instinctive reaction, though the second was something not in her nature, and the initial scream in itself had been one of surprise, more than fear; while the third, the third was so much against her own nature, that she did not even think of it. She had always believed running to be a problem itself, and never the solution to one, and she stuck to that idea even now, when she hardly had time to rummage through her ideals, and see what they were.
She only felt the rough, scratching body of the creature graze her bare arm, the fur of the animal itself hard enough to leave painful marks; only felt the sting of the vividly scarlet, tapering nails, cold and powerful and heartlessly aching, as they travelled down the length of white shoulder in one, fluid, calculatedly sharp motion. Something trickled down her shoulder, then, something that was cold against the chilly, night-air, something that felt vaguely familiar and should have been cause enough for worry, had there not been others , in her mind, right then – the fact that she could feel consciousness depart.
The fact that she could tell any wound she would walk away with, tonight, would not be an ordinary one.
Blood, she realized. It clawed me.
But, no matter what her state of mind, the wolf had yet to be done. It came at her again, backing at first, then sprinting before it finally leaped through the air. It howled, a long, ruthless noise that seemed, in its coldness, to shatter the very winds. They screamed too, as if in response now and anyone would have thought the atmosphere dark, cold, terrifying – Jenna thought it dark, cold and major cause for disappointment. Her eyes flickered, as she felt all life take leave of her left arm.
To be honest, she had not expected any of this, tonight – and she knew it was her own fault. She had not been alert today, even absent-minded as she thought of Sion, in her walk to this place. Otherwise, Jenna knew, she could have handled the thing with ease – it was only a dark creature. But sense had finally returned now, shooting up through her frame like the indescribable pain running from her shoulder to her wrist. She whipped out her wand, her sole but most powerful weapon in the face of such a situation, and the little instrument whipped through moonlight, even as the creature leaptedagain.
First burst out of the tip of her wand, a deep, dark golden that twisted upon its own flames to enlarge and multiply and rise high, high into the air; and the wolf gave a vicious howl as it retreated, clearly blinded by the light - which itself is an instrument darkness fears. The flames wrapped the creature and, though it struggled, her magic was too strong. Within seconds – though it seemed hours to Jenna – the creature had been reduced to nothingness, to dust that the wind carried away and played with and scattered, far, far away.
She looked up, chest heaving; tears of pain defiantly forced back and eyes narrowed in visible distaste.
The double-doors opposite her were open, and in front of her stood Voldemort, leaning very casually in the doorway of Mangeant Mansion.
Serial Prankster • Troloholic • Like a BAWS • Brae the Lionheart & Lion Cub • AnDee & Melsse
Uwaaaaaa!
I haven't been keeping up with TSRTD lately, BUT I am glad to announce that I'm BACK now and all caught up!
Hehehehehe.
I saw in a few posts I'd made way back, that I was hoping you'd tell us the history between Jenna and Varius, and... You still haven't spilled the secret, Maxers! ;_____; -Sobs-
I guess I'm just a sucker for romance, but I'm really looking forward to that. Hehehehe.
But ahhh so many exciting things! BTW, are we going to see Sirius again soon? GUH he was so hilarious on that chappie so long ago when he was supposed to take Nicola to the ball.
But yeah apparently she's going with that murderer now... I wanna know what's gonna happen to her, though I hope it's nothing too bad. Nicola might be greedy and selfish, but I kind of hold a soft spot for her. I don't want anything too horribly bad to happen to her, but knowing Maxers... you might surprise me! -braces herself-
As for Jenna, I prolly would've done what she never considered... I would've left running 289478 MPH flailing my arms and screaming! [/coward]
BAHAHHAHA hhehehe. I wonder what Voldie will have to say about her being distracted, though. Again, another character I hope nothing too horrible happens to. Jenna may be his favie, but... it's still Voldemort... he might do something. Like, I dunno... maybe he'll... he'll... make her babysit Mr. Donkey!!!!!
DUN DUN DUNNNNNN!!!!
!
Anyway I feel soooo good now that I'm caught up, I really missed this story and your wonderful writing skills, Maxers! Guhh. Your skill at describing details and scenarios overall is just sooo... -salivates- ! BAHA. No, but seriously, your writing is just so... shiny and sparkly. Yet tasty...
^ Oh wow look at me failing big time at being descriptive. ! You must teach me your ways, Maxers!
Uwaaaaaa!
I haven't been keeping up with TSRTD lately, BUT I am glad to announce that I'm BACK now and all caught up!
Hehehehehe.
Woot! I missed you, DeeLeeeeee. <333
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I saw in a few posts I'd made way back, that I was hoping you'd tell us the history between Jenna and Varius, and... You still haven't spilled the secret, Maxers! ;_____; -Sobs-
I guess I'm just a sucker for romance, but I'm really looking forward to that. Hehehehe.
Aww. Like they say - patience is a virtue. I'm suuuure you'll get some Jenna and Varius stuff, some day.
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BTW, are we going to see Sirius again soon? GUH he was so hilarious on that chappie so long ago when he was supposed to take Nicola to the ball.
I think Sirius will make another appearance, but this story is going to be more focused on the 'darker' lot of characters. :]
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As for Jenna, I prolly would've done what she never considered... I would've left running 289478 MPH flailing my arms and screaming! [/coward]
To be honest, that's what I would have done, too. I don't think I'm a scared-y sort of person, but running is kind of a natural reaction, to something like that. Understandable enough, if you ask me. xD
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Like, I dunno... maybe he'll... he'll... make her babysit Mr. Donkey!!!!
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Anyway I feel soooo good now that I'm caught up, I really missed this story and your wonderful writing skills, Maxers! Guhh. Your skill at describing details and scenarios overall is just sooo... -salivates- ! BAHA. No, but seriously, your writing is just so... shiny and sparkly. Yet tasty...
^ Oh wow look at me failing big time at being descriptive. ! You must teach me your ways, Maxers!
Thank you SO much, DeeLeeriiina. You have no idea how MUCH I missed you, and I'm so glad you're back. <33
Serial Prankster • Troloholic • Like a BAWS • Brae the Lionheart & Lion Cub • AnDee & Melsse
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Originally Posted by Maxilocks
Woot! I missed you, DeeLeeeeee. <333
I missed my Maxers tooooo!
Alas, I've just been a little distracted with the fan clubs and this and that, BUT I am back now and I'm not going to let myself fall behind on such an epic story again! <3
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Originally Posted by Maxilocks
Aww. Like they say - patience is a virtue. I'm suuuure you'll get some Jenna and Varius stuff, some day.
Yeah that's what you said last time!
( Well maybe not, I can't exactly remember, but I'm sure it must've been something similar to this! )
I have no patience! T_T So therefore, I guess I'm not a… virtue, or something. Point is I want it now!!!!! D:
-Drops to the floor and throws a tantrum-
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Originally Posted by Maxilocks
I think Sirius will make another appearance, but this story is going to be more focused on the 'darker' lot of characters. :]
Then Draco should be here!
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Originally Posted by Maxilocks
To be honest, that's what I would have done, too. I don't think I'm a scared-y sort of person, but running is kind of a natural reaction, to something like that. Understandable enough, if you ask me. xD
You're right, Maxers! Completely right! (I'm just trying to make myself feel better and less cowardly here )
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Originally Posted by Maxilocks
Thank you SO much, DeeLeeriiina. You have no idea how MUCH I missed you, and I'm so glad you're back. <33
AND you're awesome enough, as it is.
Uwaaaaa! -Gets all teary-eyed- I'm glad to be back too! I swear, every time I read your stuff I just get so… inspired. And it toady drags me out into the world you're describing. And when you can do that to a reader, just literally sweep them off their feet and send them off into whatever world you want to send them to… that's when you know you're a purrty darn EPIC writer. Which is exactly what my Maxers is. <3333
Uwaaaaa! -Gets all teary-eyed- I'm glad to be back too! I swear, every time I read your stuff I just get so… inspired. And it toady drags me out into the world you're describing. And when you can do that to a reader, just literally sweep them off their feet and send them off into whatever world you want to send them to… that's when you know you're a purrty darn EPIC writer. Which is exactly what my Maxers is. <3333
Aww. Dee, you're too sweet. You make me sound all awesome. *SNUGS* Thank you SO much for all the pretty praise. <3
Noooo teary eyeees, missy! *throws glitter on chu* <33
Hello Maxie. When I saw the notification of this update, my mind went to a safe place to read from, because I remembered where you left Jenna, and incase you was taking me back there I wanted to be prepared to read and still be able to breath. So upon my arrival to The Second Road To Death, I find I am at the very place you left Jenna, and my mind takes in the first paragraph and begins to wonder if indeed it is in a safe enough place. So on guard, I read on, and come to where I am standing alone facing the wolf. At that moment I am frozen to my seat and riveted to the written words on my computer, doubting that I am safe.
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It had unnaturally large eyes, perhaps the gaze it held itself a weapon, a ruthless kind that held no emotions – not even animal or beastly emotions – and they were pure, pure scarlet, devoid of pupil or any other tincture.
The plain indifference in them was fear-provoking.
I tell myself, I am not Jenna, but a reader outside of the story. Now, I am sure I can read the rest of the chapter, and only have to fear for Jenna's will power. She originally came over to the dark to take revengs for her and her sister, to fool the darkness but keep her purity of heart intact. But, I'm afraid she will find herself unwilling to resist the darkness, because she has found comfort there. The burning rage of desire to revenge isn't pure, and it imbues her strength and powers to greatness, that I think even Voldemort needs to be careful of, though neither of them know this.
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It howled, a long, ruthless noise that seemed, in its coldness, to shatter the very winds. They screamed too, as if in response now and anyone would have thought the atmosphere dark, cold, terrifying – Jenna thought it dark, cold and major cause for disappointment.
This gives proof I think to what I was saying. Nobody but Jenna, could stand there and not be terrified.
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She whipped out her wand, her sole but most powerful weapon in the face of such a situation, and the little instrument whipped through moonlight, even as the creature leaptedagain.
A little instrument, yes, but made to wield unlimited power coming from the owner.
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First burst out of the tip of her wand, a deep, dark golden that twisted upon its own flames to enlarge and multiply and rise high, high into the air; and the wolf gave a vicious howl as it retreated, clearly blinded by the light - which itself is an instrument darkness fears. The flames wrapped the creature and, though it struggled, her magic was too strong. Within seconds – though it seemed hours to Jenna – the creature had been reduced to nothingness, to dust that the wind carried away and played with and scattered, far, far away.
Breathtaking!
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She looked up, chest heaving; tears of pain defiantly forced back and eyes narrowed in visible distaste.
The double-doors opposite her were open, and in front of her stood Voldemort, leaning very casually in the doorway of Mangeant Mansion.
The defiant one, and the arrogant one.
Maxie, I honestly think that this chapter is your best writing in this story so far. It only compares to the ingenius writing in Wings of Glass. Both are brilliant and I am unable to say which is best.
I can't wait to read more, so I'll be watching for the next.
Much love and admiration to you Maxie. Take care.
She originally came over to the dark to take revengs for her and her sister, to fool the darkness but keep her purity of heart intact.
Or to see what causes the darkness.
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Breathtaking!
Thank you. <3
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The defiant one, and the arrogant one.
I like that. I've never thought of them in those exact words, before; but the phrase is, in more than one sense, absolutely true. :]
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Maxie, I honestly think that this chapter is your best writing in this story so far. It only compares to the ingenius writing in Wings of Glass. Both are brilliant and I am unable to say which is best.
Thank you so much, Connie. I'm glad to know I could do this chapter justice, and that you enjoyed it. Your reviews always mean a lot to me. Thank you, once again.
Sudden in its birth, hauntingly slow in its death, the scream that the winds had scattered through the remnants that had once been a town well-loved, faltered, wavered and faded away, as if the rock-and-stone ruins it had scattered over, had shattered it into tiny pieces.
Oh wow. Your descriptions get better every day dahlin'!!
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Then it was the night and Jenna ---
Beautiful!
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She did not have the presence of mind to step back, scream or run – the first should have been an instinctive reaction, though the second was something not in her nature, and the initial scream in itself had been one of surprise, more than fear; while the third, the third was so much against her own nature, that she did not even think of it.
For some reason, I can't imagine Jenna running off the scene either. I can however imagine myself doing that.
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anyone would have thought the atmosphere dark, cold, terrifying – Jenna thought it dark, cold and major cause for disappointment.
I like this girl. I really do. Good characterization Maxo!
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The double-doors opposite her were open, and in front of her stood Voldemort, leaning very casually in the doorway of Mangeant Mansion.
For all the anger that I feel at him for doing this to her, I have to say he's pretty daaaaarrn classy.
Update soon!!!
Love,
~~Jay~~
__________________
Jessica's time on SS is now limited thanks to that big and BAD thing called real life
Oh wow. Your descriptions get better every day dahlin'!!
Thank you. <3
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For all the anger that I feel at him for doing this to her, I have to say he's pretty daaaaarrn classy.
I intend him to be. ^________^ The image here is that of Tom Riddle, rather than Voldemort.
For a moment, he looked at her, and Jenna had the insolence to look right back, not breaking the gaze as any other death-eater would have. Voldemort seemed, if anything, amused by the defiance.
“Glad to see you could make it, Jenna,” he said, straightening up to his full height. He was tall, much taller than her. Time would take away the beauty, the elegance, the handsomeness, however – any and all good looks he possessed, right now, would turn into a plain picture of horror, in much less than a decade.
Sudden fire erupted in Jenna White’s eyes. They were a pure gray, and when she was angry, they seemed to acquire a darker tincture that, for all her fury, was lovely to behold. “You were behind that,” she accused. “That idiot was here on your command.”
The fact that she had chosen to call one of his most feared dark creatures an ‘idiot,’ did not fail to amuse him. The corners of his mouth turned up in a smile, one that was extremely cold, for all of its namesake. He shrugged her choice of words off – Jenna decided then that he had expected what had happened – that he was satisfied by it -- that she wanted to grab him by the shoulders, and shake him, hard. Ice and pretense, she could comprehend. Ice and pretense in him, not simultaneously.
“A good death eater is always alert, Jenna. A good death does not care for origins, either. It was I, this time. It could be anyone else, the time next.”
“So what if I’m a bad death eater!” she snapped at him, choking back her tears once more. They were not tears of grief or anger, only a reminder of Nature – she could ignore the pain, her body could not. It needed to be taken care of, to be healed. “You can’t – the hell, you have no right –”
“Jenna!”
Perhaps it was regard for him that quieted her, then; perhaps - more likely - the knowledge that her outburst would achieve little, unless she wanted to come into direct conflict with him – though, of course, Jenna sometimes thought she was, always had been, in direct conflict with him – and that he knew it, as well as she did. She looked away and, for lack of anything better, down, at her arm. That was quite a mistake, she realized the very moment she had made it. For all her bravery – real or perceived – she was not a heartless person.
More importantly, she was not a child. She knew that, out there, had been no normal wolf and, correspondingly, the wound was not a normal one, either. She could hazard a pretty good guess, here, that it was an aptly-cursed one. The kind he designed especially, to ensure that they could never be healed, unless he himself came forward to do so. He knew the antidotes, as fully as he knew his own poisons, and yet he never chose to use the former.
Voldemort, apparently, had none of this on his mind. He had straightened up again, and moved away from the door, to step into the hallway that it led into. Inside, the mansion was perfectly clean, perfectly organized, the very opposite of an old, old ruin, though the coldness remained, that of the exterior. “You were supposed to give me something,” Voldemort remarked, as the doors swung shut. “A flask you should have given me much earlier, if I remember correctly.” The last five words were said with the air of a man who knows they are not needed, and that he always remembers correctly, no matter what the occasion.
The flask of memories. Jenna had not forgotten. If he was one to remember, she was not one to forget, either. “Cut it out with the fancy words,” she said coldly, as she followed him inside. “You know you remember correctly. I would, too, if my life depended upon it,” she added, her lips almost curving into a smirk.
Voldemort glanced up, in a way that was more than a mild warning. She ignored the look rather pointedly, as she tossed the flask to hi,.
He caught it deftly, turning it over in the dim light. To the ordinary observer, the flask might have looked like a simple tool, one easy to handle, but Voldemort felt the protective magic that seemed to fluff round it, much like a blanket of sorts – which, in turn, reminded him of the protective magic she had employed outside, to get rid of the creature.
“That was... impressive magic you used on the wolf,” he remarked. “I see you never bothered to tell me of it.”
Now Jenna, she was starting to get impatient. Her shoulder was what they call a case of dire blood-loss, and it was hard for her to stand here, much less respond to what was probably the most unintelligent remark he had ever made, to her – of course, her magic was impressive. She was also quite, quite furious that he had done nothing about her arm, especially when he knew she was not going to meddle with a highly-cursed wound – the last thing she wanted to do, right now, was to aggravate it, or the pain.
“There are a lot of things I haven’t told you,” she said, coolly. “Oh, and did I ever mention? Lots of things I’m not going to tell you, either.”
For a moment, Voldemort looked up from the flask he was now examining in his cold, calculated way, and there was something deadly about his look. “I am too lenient with you,” he said, icily. “Perhaps you believe you can take advantage of that.”
“You think any female death eater comes in here thinking she can take advantage of something you do?” Jenna asked, pointedly. “Merlin’s pink toe, I just want you to fix my arm!”
Voldemort gave a laugh, a laugh whose handsomeness was marred by its lingering touch of cold. It was like he could not get rid of the ice – each act, each deed, each word of his bore it, in its heart, as an undeniable part. “Clever,” he remarked. “Very clever of you to realize it would be a cursed wound. Many others would have wasted their time trying to fix the wound on their own. Which would,” he added, quite indifferently. “Only aggravated it.”
“I’m asking you to fix it," Jenna said, coldly. "Don't mistake yourself into thinking that this is a request."
He turned round, to face her. “Why don’t you fix it yourself?” he suggested, in a voice that implied he was remarking about the change in the day’s weather. “Pride does come before a fall, my dear Jenna - and you seem to pride over your abilities, quite frequently. Let us see, tonight, how... impressive your magic is, Jenna.”
She decided, right there, right then, that perhaps she was capable of hate, after all.
unless she wanted to come into direct conflict with him – though, of course, Jenna sometimes thought she was, always had been, in direct conflict with him – and that he knew it, as well as she did.
That line made me wonder if maybe she isn't as far gone as I was afraid of. Into the darkness, I mean. Whenever there is doubt, in cicumstances like this, than there is hope. But what of his knowledge of it also?
I love how defiant Jenny is. She makes everything work for her. Even her mistakes.
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She looked away and, for lack of anything better, down, at her arm. That was quite a mistake, she realized the very moment she had made it. For all her bravery – real or perceived – she was not a heartless person.
..........many good things in between then and now.....
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“I’m asking you to fix it," Jenna said, coldly. "Don't mistake yourself into thinking that this is a request."
I love it!
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If he was one to remember, she was not one to forget, either.
I love your brilliance Maxie! This line, ^ didn't need to be added to the story to make it any better, but, the strength you give your Jenna by making it is fabulous.
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“Pride does come before a fall, my dear Jenna
I'm sorry, but, isn't it funny how blind he is to his own pride! We see through each time he is thwarted by Harry, his surprise and anger over his defeat, and yet he never learns from it. Which, indeed was his downfall as he so adequately just mentioned.
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She decided, right there, right then, that perhaps she was capable of hate, after all.
A perfect line to end your chapter. I love your writing Maxie. Each time I finish reading anything you write, I sit back and shake my head in wonder thinking, "How does she do it?"
Great chapter Maxie! Much love to you Maxie. I'll be watching for your next notice.
That line made me wonder if maybe she isn't as far gone as I was afraid of. Into the darkness, I mean. Whenever there is doubt, in cicumstances like this, than there is hope. But what of his knowledge of it also?
She knows where she stands. She could break free, if there weren't things that kept her there. She believes he is aware of that.
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I love it!
Thank you, Connie. <3
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I'm sorry, but, isn't it funny how blind he is to his own pride! We see through each time he is thwarted by Harry, his surprise and anger over his defeat, and yet he never learns from it. Which, indeed was his downfall as he so adequately just mentioned.
Hehe. I always thought Voldemort felt like he had a right to be proud. Goes to show he always did think of himself as superior. *shakes head*
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A perfect line to end your chapter. I love your writing Maxie. Each time I finish reading anything you write, I sit back and shake my head in wonder thinking, "How does she do it?"
Aww. You're always too sweet, Connie. Thank you, and I'm glad to know you enjoyed the update. <3
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Great chapter Maxie! Much love to you Maxie. I'll be watching for your next notice.