⊰ CH 13: THE SPECTATOR ⊱

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CHARLOTTE HAD LEFT LATER THAT morning, knowing her mother would have been paranoid with worry if she had stayed out much longer. This meant that Dianna was once again, left alone in the Rain mannor. Again...

Without her friend's contagious laughter or welcomed chatter, Dianna felt that the house was eerily quiet. Lonely, even.

Usually, she would've invited someone over. One of her school friends. But this summer is different. With the war and the stance their parents had in said war, visiting each other wasn't even a possibility.

Asking the Gryffindor boys seemed too forward. And she didn't want to send the wrong message. Especially with how recent her on-off relationship with Rudolphus had ended.

She sighed, staring up at her ceiling as she laid in her bed, her body laid out like a crucifix.

If she focused enough, she could hear Poppy humming quietly from the foyer.

Poppy is a good reminder that Dianna still has those she can rely on when she feels like humanity is doing nothing but disappointing her. Which is fairly often.

Poppy was there for Dianna in times when she felt desperately alone while growing up.

Over time they've grown distant, but Dianna still holds a great deal of respect for the elf.

She's always been more of an observer than one to be observed. She generally won't speak unless spoken to. One of the many reasons she stays quiet at home.

At school, her friends always manage to entertain her with their challenging spirits and lively attitudes, always having a topic to hold long-lasting conversations over.

To be an active participant in said conversations would be a lie, though. Like I said. An observer.

But when in chaos, who would you want to hear the story from? The problem, or the spectator?

Dianna sits up abruptly, pacing to her dresser to fetch her black nail polish, having noticed that her nails are almost completely bare.



The bell over their heads rung as Sirius and Remus walked into the the tattoo parlor, swinging the door closed behind them.

"Hello?" Sirius called out as the boys aproched the front counter.

Remus rockedback and forth on the heels of his feet with his hands shoved into his pants pockets as he look around and the artwork on the walls.

"Good evening." A wizard who seemed to be in his mid thirties struted out of the back room to greet his costumers. "Tattoo or peircing?" he asked Sirius with a bored expression resting on his face.

"Tattoo. I have an apointment," he replied, his eyebrows raised.

"You the one who used the muggle telephone?" the man frowned deeply.

"Yup," Sirius smirked, noting the employee's annoyance.

The tattoo artist groaned in responce and waved a hand for the boys to follow. 

"I just want to clairify again that I was joking when I suggested you should do this," Remus muttered to Sirius as they were lead tothe back room where there were rows of chairs and stools with rolling carts next to them with wireless tattoo guns.

"Too late now." The raven haired boy shruged. "I paid in advance."

"You're an idiot," Remus replied, rolling his eyes, merely earning an smug smirk from Sirius in return.

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