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Author Topic: Deidre Sable-Vaelbe  (Read 370 times)

Deidre Sable

    (11/08/2013 at 08:40)
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E L S E W H E R E   C H I L D

Character Name: Cyber Deidre Sable-Vaelbe

Gender: Female

Age: 15

Bloodline: Muggleborn

Parents/Guardians (Are they currently played characters?): 
Jonathan Sable, biological father, absent due to Time Warp
Jane Sable (nee Drake), biological mother, deceased
Wilhelm Vaelbe, adoptive father, NPC
Elizabeth Vaelbe (nee O'Conner), adoptive mother, played character

Residence: Hogsmeade, transferring to America (probably)

Do you plan to have a connection to a particular existing place (for example: the daycare)?
Endsworth-Laurie, Psych Ward (patient)

Do you wish to be approved as a group with any other characters? If so who and for what IC reason?
Vaelbes and O'Conners - relatives

Please list any other characters you already have at the site:
Wolfe Sable-Vaelbe, Yvonne Dechavez, Crimson Stormheart, et al.

Biography: (100 words minimum.)
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

A sob shook itself out of her throat, past wet, chapped lips that had stopped drooling onto the pillow she hugged tight to her chest. She pressed her face into it and continued to sob.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry -"

She vaguely heard someone knock on the door, but she ignored it, opting instead to curl around the pillow, protectively.

It wasn't him at the door, or anywhere else, so why should she even bother getting up?

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so-"

The words slurred around her tears and threatened to choke her when yet another sob tried to simultaneously escape her throat, and she swallowed thickly for a few moments.

This was what he felt, she thought blearily, when he was under the water. It was probably very cold there. She thought, maybe he'd tried yelling for her -

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry -"

She sniffed and wiped her nose on her sleeve. She wouldn't want to stain his pillow, which still had a trace of his warmth, his presence, though it was faint now, days after. She clung to it as it faded with each passing second. She could just barely feel it now.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm-"

She really should've gone after him. At least if she drowned too, they'd be together in Heaven with Mother and Father.

"-sorry, so sorry, so-"

Another knock on the door, a little more insistent this time, and a voice called out, "Deidre, dear, come out, please. You need to eat."

Eat? Eat. Food. Mmm food.

Her stomach hurt, like it was trying to bite its way out of her skin. Maybe that's what it needed -

She shook her head, "No." It came out as a croak, a tiny little croak and she remembered how much he was so scared of frogs because of what Mother told him about the Plagues -

"No, no, no, no -"

"Deidre." More insistent knocking.

"NO!" It was still croaky, so she wasn't sure if she'd been heard, so she threw the nearest thing at hand instead - not the pillow, not the pillow, not the pillow - or his bag, even, he loved his bag and the books of knowledge it always held inside -


The thing vaguely looked like a shoe, as it fell to the floor. Oh crap, she'd forgotten to take her shoes off.

She sniffed again, wiping the snot off her nose against her crusty shirtsleeve, and slipped her other shoe off -

The voice spoke up again, gentler this time, "Dei -"

- and threw the shoe at the door, wearily, the resulting thump on the wood sounding weaker, as weak as she felt. Maybe the shoe was sad too. Or tired, like her.

She was so tired, so tired of them calling her. They weren't Wolfe. They weren't Mother. Or Father. They weren't her family. Her real family.

So what if they'd taken her and Wolfe in, adopted her - them, let them take their name and add it to theirs.


It's not like there's another Sable out there. She should, she should -

She didn't even know where she was going with this anymore. She just wanted to cry and hug her brother. So she did, with a pillow as his substitute because he wasn't here, he could never be here again, never -

"Alright, I'll leave you alone again, but please, please come out to eat soon. Please."

Footsteps sounded and faded away and she breathed out a choked sob, absently brushing off the dried mud-soil-dirt-whatever off Wolfe's sheets, the ones in the Vaelbe house, not theirs, not really his, but close enough.

"Sorry," she whispered to the bed, to him, wherever he was now.

She snuggled into the pillow again, as fresh tears ran down her cheeks, and she wondered why shew as magical when all it did was make Mother get sick and die, make Father grieve and die, make Wolfe drown and die. Indirectly, but still.

Useless. She was useless. Her magic was - useless.

Wolfe must be in Heaven now, with Mother and Father, all of them shaking their heads at her. Because she was going to Hell. Because she didn't save the only real family she had left.

(Later, she'll think that okay, maybe she did deserve to be stuck in this hospital for a while, a long while maybe, because where else would they put her anyway, when she was this useless?)

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry -"

Reply as your character to the following:

Godric Park.

Overhead, the sky was a crisp blue, for once clear of the ever-pervasive spongy clouds and rain. The sun was a lemony-yellow presence, high in the Eastern sky, and in front of it zipped three broomsticks in a straight line, or something very like one. One... two..... three... the boys passed, their shouts of excitement echoing as they chased the snitch, a tiny shimmer reflecting the sunlight.

Far below was another, much smaller broomstick.

It trugged along the ground, hugging close to it like a sluggish choo choo train and occasionally shuttering in protest. This was because said stick was currently being occupied by a very small girl who was tugging upward on the front of it with all her might, trying to coax it into doing what it had been expressly designed NOT to do.

"John, I said wait up!" The tiny girl squealed, giving the broomstick another tug.

Begrudgingly, it drifted upward a foot, and then sank, depositing the troublesome girl safely on the ground. Janey Hurst was not pleased. In a huff, she hopped off the toy safety broom, grabbing it firmly and thrusting it handle first into the turf.

Her brother was such a beast. He NEVER let her play! She folded her arms, seething blue eyes fixing on another figure nearby.  "You!" She barked, much more sharply than she meant to.

"...Do you want to play?"

Roleplay Response:

Her feet were sore.

She wasn't sure how long she'd been walking (she'd wanted to get out of the house; it was suffocating her, for some reason, maybe it hated her too), just that her feet had been moving (left, right, left, right, left -) for quite a while now, somewhere, towards a destination unknown, with the direction onwards.

She kept walking.

She'd felt a little cold, so she'd put her coat on, vaguely realizing a few moments after stepping out that it was a sunny day with no need of the thick fabric to protect her.

She shivered, and kept walking.

She kept her head down because the sun was annoying; it was always annoying, but he loved being under the sun, for some reason. She was surprised he hadn't gone blind by it after all these years. (Gone, gone, gone...)

She swallowed thickly, and kept walking.

She heard someone yell something, and she stopped for a while, wondering why someone was yelling (could it- no, no, it couldn't, of course not, he's dead), and blinked. There was a little girl looking at her, and asking her a question.

She stared at the girl, motionless.


She hesitated, unsure what to say without shouting (it was all she'd done these days, except sob, and she definitely didn't want to do that right now) - the little girl hadn't done anything for her to shout at.

She finally decided on "No." And a shrug too, in case.

"Sorry, kid," she said. And froze. It was like something just switched in her, all of a sudden, since a sob broke out of her throat and her eyes started to burn with shed tears.

Well, crap.

She turned away, and - sank down to the ground, and cried.

She was tired of walking, she realized. Her feet were sore.

How did you find us? Recommendation from a year ago
maybe you're gonna be the one that saves me

Eirwen Medraut

    (13/08/2013 at 04:58)
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