Draco Malfoy (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
putorius) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sixthiterationlogs2017-02-14 12:01 pm
putorius) wrote in sixthiterationlogs2017-02-14 12:01 pm
002. I sat alone, in bed till the morning - OTA (Part 1)
WHO: Draco Malfoy
WHERE: The Inn
WHEN: Spanning his arrival to the evening of Feb 13
OPEN TO: Everyone, second section closed to Pietro Maximoff
WARNINGS: Angry teenagers (will update as necessary)
STATUS: Mixed
01. I'm crying, "They're coming for me" -- OTA
The past week has been a blur. Draco felt like he was just drifting in a constant state of panic that things like hunger and exhaustion barely penetrated. He'd rejected every scrap of help he'd been offered, thinking himself more than capable of doing everything on his own. The problem was that he was far too accustomed to life with magic and now he had to try to get by without it at all, his wand gone the way of his robes, his heirloom ring, his family's reputation. He didn't even have his wealth or connections to fall back on. For the first time, probably ever in his life, he was putting in hard, physical labor. Unwilling to accept what everyone said, he was trying to prove that he could escape.
The first few days were focused on the fountain, as that's where he'd come in, but there was no way he'd be able to reach the bottom of that thing without so much as a bubblehead charm. One night when he was certain no one see, he may have attempted such a feat, out of desperation. Finally, he gave up, focusing his efforts elsewhere. But the forest proved just as frustrating and far more perilous. If he wasn't running into sheer cliff walls or getting completely turned around, he was finding that footing was as dangerous as the depths of the Forbidden Forest and just barely escaped grievous injury. Night after night, he dragged himself back to the village, always wrapped snugly in his peacoat, growing more and more disheveled and frazzled. He was not made for this life and was getting more and more irritable.
02. And I tried to hold these secrets inside me -- Closed to Pietro
Finally, on Monday night, Draco decided he would not live like this any longer. He wasn't accepting that this place was permanent but if he didn't find a base of operations, he was going to run out of internal resources and be useless in every possible way. Constantly throwing ones self at a problem without a real plan was the gryffindor way, and he'll be damned if he was going to keep it up. Regroup and re-evaluate. Not all was lost. This meant having a set place to rest every night. Somewhere to call his own, to rest and recharge.
In his exhausted state, he didn't realize that the lack of available room keys meant the place was fully occupied. So he went room to room, checking doors, checking rooms. Some were locked, some were clearly occupied even if no one was home. Finally, when he reached the door for room 11, he thought perhaps he'd finally found one. It looked like people had been there recently, or at least that it had been cleaned more recently than some of the houses he'd seen. But he didn't see so much as a backpack to mark it as taken, though he was just tired enough that it was easy to miss something.
Convincing himself that it was free to take, which wasn't difficult for someone with such a self-centered view of the world, he dropped his backpack on the floor and collapsed onto one of the two beds. He barely managed to kick off his shoes, not bothering with his coat, before he started to drift off. He'd come up with a plan in the morning.
WHERE: The Inn
WHEN: Spanning his arrival to the evening of Feb 13
OPEN TO: Everyone, second section closed to Pietro Maximoff
WARNINGS: Angry teenagers (will update as necessary)
STATUS: Mixed
01. I'm crying, "They're coming for me" -- OTA
The past week has been a blur. Draco felt like he was just drifting in a constant state of panic that things like hunger and exhaustion barely penetrated. He'd rejected every scrap of help he'd been offered, thinking himself more than capable of doing everything on his own. The problem was that he was far too accustomed to life with magic and now he had to try to get by without it at all, his wand gone the way of his robes, his heirloom ring, his family's reputation. He didn't even have his wealth or connections to fall back on. For the first time, probably ever in his life, he was putting in hard, physical labor. Unwilling to accept what everyone said, he was trying to prove that he could escape.
The first few days were focused on the fountain, as that's where he'd come in, but there was no way he'd be able to reach the bottom of that thing without so much as a bubblehead charm. One night when he was certain no one see, he may have attempted such a feat, out of desperation. Finally, he gave up, focusing his efforts elsewhere. But the forest proved just as frustrating and far more perilous. If he wasn't running into sheer cliff walls or getting completely turned around, he was finding that footing was as dangerous as the depths of the Forbidden Forest and just barely escaped grievous injury. Night after night, he dragged himself back to the village, always wrapped snugly in his peacoat, growing more and more disheveled and frazzled. He was not made for this life and was getting more and more irritable.
02. And I tried to hold these secrets inside me -- Closed to Pietro
Finally, on Monday night, Draco decided he would not live like this any longer. He wasn't accepting that this place was permanent but if he didn't find a base of operations, he was going to run out of internal resources and be useless in every possible way. Constantly throwing ones self at a problem without a real plan was the gryffindor way, and he'll be damned if he was going to keep it up. Regroup and re-evaluate. Not all was lost. This meant having a set place to rest every night. Somewhere to call his own, to rest and recharge.
In his exhausted state, he didn't realize that the lack of available room keys meant the place was fully occupied. So he went room to room, checking doors, checking rooms. Some were locked, some were clearly occupied even if no one was home. Finally, when he reached the door for room 11, he thought perhaps he'd finally found one. It looked like people had been there recently, or at least that it had been cleaned more recently than some of the houses he'd seen. But he didn't see so much as a backpack to mark it as taken, though he was just tired enough that it was easy to miss something.
Convincing himself that it was free to take, which wasn't difficult for someone with such a self-centered view of the world, he dropped his backpack on the floor and collapsed onto one of the two beds. He barely managed to kick off his shoes, not bothering with his coat, before he started to drift off. He'd come up with a plan in the morning.
no subject
"Empty does not mean unclaimed," Pietro retorts, every syllable sharp as a needle. "Even an idiot child could reach that conclusion. Excuse me if I have overestimated your intellect."