The wild child with a gypsy soul which dances with the stars. She had a free spirit, a reckless mind and a rebel heart that wasn't meant to be tamed. She was beauty and chaos intertwined. A tornado of roses from divine. She was an ocean of sunsets and riptides: the storm in her eyes, the peace in her smile.
Her wild heart was never meant to live inside a white picket fence.
She lost herself in the trees among the ever-changing leaves. She wept beneath the wild sky as stars told stories of ancient times. The flowers grew towards her light, the river called her name at night. She could not live an ordinary life with the mysteries of the universe hidden in her eyes.
She was special.
Alena Morgana Black was beyond mortal.
The heroine's grin made for war and eyes flecked with ash. Striding, powerful, into the arms of death.
She never knew she had it all, and nobody warned her before the fall.
Not even the Myths. The Myths she dreamed about, questioning if they existed.
The Myth of Atlas fumbled about in her mind; her and Atlas were one in the same, darling cursed to hold the weight she can't bare and still standing. Not because she can.
But because she has to.
THE SUMMER OF '96 WAS LESS THAN PRODUCTIVE FOR THE BLACK HEIRESS. Alena had been doing the same things for the past few weeks: locking herself in the basement and burying her head deep in the dusty books of her necromancy. She didn't really even celebrate her birthday that much. Sirius had thought that a small gathering with her friends would at least help her get back into her old routine.
And it did, for a while.
Harry's presence helped the most. She'd found out that his cousin, Dudley and his mother and father had come over for the weekend. Although, the visit didn't extend that long. Presumably for the reason that Dementors had come wandering around in Grimmuald Square, and yes, it is a Muggle neighborhood.
