Ravenclaw
Ravenclaw
nel
single
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Doesn't like labels
4th Year 15 years old
what do the stars have in store for you today?
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Post by Noah B. Wood on Mar 5, 2018 10:13:03 GMTnoah barnabas wood Somewhere in a hidden memory 
[PTabbedContent] [PTab=PERSONALITY] images float before my eyes
[/PTab={background-color:#f0f0f0;width:530px;height:290px;padding:10px;padding-top:0px;margin-top:-6px;}] [PTab=BIOGRAPHY] of fragrant nights of straw and of bonfires, 14th october 2005 14th October 2005, London, England. 3 a.m. Sun in Libra - Moon in Pisces
Upright World Adelaide was an accident. Her journey into this world was fraught, intimidating and inconvenient. You were planned, and when you arrived, it felt like all little aspects of your parents' lives fell into place. They both had their successful Quidditch careers, they were married, they lived happily with Adelaide, and all seemed right in the world. You, when you came, made sense. You filled the last little gap, and completed the family. Those stressful and turbulent days were behind them now, because you were there to balance the scales, to dot the i's and cross the t's. When the midwife handed you over she said, 'That baby just looked into my soul'. They joked that even as a newborn they could tell that you'd been here before - your parents aren't so impractical as to truly believe in that sort of thing, but they were swept away in the moments when they first saw you - their wise old man, swaddled in baby blue blankets. Reversed Ten of Wands You don't remember the first time your father gave you a broom - it was too long ago. You were an infant, a baby, even, and he was trying to get you to fly before you could walk. His son - his first and only boy, and he had all the hopes in the world for you. You felt his love through that hope; the way he would watch you when you made motions for the broom; the look that he'd share with your mother that said 'that's my son'. It felt warm to be under that triumphant gaze. And it felt equally as cold when that triumph turned to disappointment. You loved to fly because it felt free - when you started to be told rules, positions and directions to go, it stopped making sense. You asked why you couldn't fly out in the garden like you used to, and your father told you to listen to him and stay by the hoops. You're meant to stop the ball, he said to you firmly and with a ruffle of your hair. But why? you'd ask back. Because those are the rules, he'd reply. When he asked more of you, you started to enjoy flying less and less. It was different when it came with a caveat of aggression. You weren't made for competition in the way that he was, and you lacked the athleticism to keep up with the expectations placed on you. You asked Nanny why you didn't feel like you could stop it even though you didn't enjoy it. She told you that you were a sweet boy, too sweet, who took on other people's burdens. You didn't fully understand what it meant at the time, but you came to. It wasn't for you, and you knew that from the start. But you kept going just to please him, to be like Adelaide, to be a part of a family who breathed the game - even while deep down you knew that it wasn't you. There was never a conversation between you and your father about it - you didn't stop trying, but you definitely didn't keep on improving. The impasse was reached, and Oliver Wood seemed to know instinctively that you'd never be the son he thought you'd be. He didn't push you after that, and not another word was spoken about it. Quidditch was his and Adelaide's and you didn't need to be a part of it. You slowly let go of that burden that was never really yours to carry - perhaps you'd have let go of it sooner with a simple word from your father to tell you that it was okay to. Perhaps it would have extinguished that flickering of guilt that you still get every now and about how you didn't live up to the expectation. But Oliver Wood was not verbose in his affection. Praise came less naturally to him than criticism, and different things drove him. You forgave him. Upright High Priestess Intuitive, that's what Nanny called you. That midwife had called you wise, and Nanny said you were knowing. Your mother didn't really put much stock in things like that - she was an endlessly practical woman who didn't like to spend too much time thinking on the abstract. She had things to do, and vagaries held no significance to her day to day life. Nanny was different, and she saw that in you too. The ambiguous and the unknown intrigued you, and you connected with the mystical in ways your parents didn't really care to understand. But Nanny always understood. You told her the moon made you feel peaceful, and she didn't scoff - she told you to hold onto that, and open yourself to how it let you feel. She read your tarot, and you watched intently, keenly feeling all the things she was telling you to be true. You were fascinated by it all, and she encouraged you to trust your instincts on these things - even from a young age, you were very rarely wrong. She gave you the tools to an open mind and an open heart which carried you through your childhood and beyond. Upright Two of Pentacles Your mother had never imagined herself as that - a mother. She’d spent so much of her young life envisioning any other life for herself than the one she fell into when she was eighteen. And it had been difficult, at first, to understand how to let go of what she’d thought her life was going to be, and to make peace with what it was - but she did make peace, and once she had, everything became a lot easier. Balance, she told you. The key to happiness, is balance. She had her time with Quidditch, and then she had her time with you. Adelaide had been a bit of a learning curve in that regard, but once you came along, she felt like she knew where her life should be, and she’d grown into the person she perhaps should have been when she first fell pregnant. Life may have thrown her all kinds of curved Quaffles, but she managed to catch most of them in the end - and she learned to make peace with the ones that she’d missed earlier. You felt her commitment to you, and your sister, and it made you feel warm. She’d play with your hair as you fell asleep, and all you ever wanted to do as you grew up was make sure that you could make her feel that warm too. Reversed King of Cups You knew something was wrong even before you were told. You could tell even before you made it to St. Mungo's that this was bad news, and not just in the temporary sense. It felt, and rightly so, that whatever had happened was terrible and mighty. A fractured scapula, a torn bicep and a ripped ligament. Oliver Wood would live - but he would never play Quidditch again. A minor blip in the sporting world; a cataclysmic event for the Woods. You'd got used to the fact that you weren't the type of family that didn't have the luxury of time together - it wasn't for lack of love or affection, but simply for the need to pursue passion. But then, seemingly out of nowhere, all you had was time. Your father was always there - only you knew this wasn't a luxury for him - to him to him it felt like a prison sentence. This, when you think back on it, is the darkest period of life that you can remember. Nothing about it felt right or balanced - all things were just a little bit off, and the turbulence you could sense brewing in your household overwhelmed you in ways you didn’t like. You knew you wanted to help fix it, but you were too young then, you didn’t know how - not least because you didn’t know the half of what was actually going on. Your mother, Nanny and Adelaide shielded you as best they could - knowing you as they did, they knew to keep you as far away from that kind of irreparable upset. They knew you’d want to help your Dad, even if he didn’t deserve it. They knew because they tried themselves, Katie most of all. She tried on everyone else’s behalf to try and keep up with him, to bring him out of the dark hole he’d dug for himself, but eventually she realised that she couldn’t carry all that weight on her own shoulders without help - and that she didn’t need to. One day your father was there, angry and brooding and frustrated (and sad, you always saw the sadness in his gaze) - and the next day, he wasn’t. He’s decided he needs to be alone for a little while, your mother said, when you asked her with wide-eyed innocence where he was. You didn’t reply, but you did pull your mother into a long hug, which neither of you broke away from for a long, long time. Upright Six of Cups You knew so well by now that you and your father were different people, and would always be so - but there was a gap that his presence left that could be filled by no other but him. Physically he might have only just left, but you knew that really he had been absent for much longer than that. As the years went by that gap only worsened - how it made your mother sad, your sister quietly rage, and made you ache because it wasn't right. Nothing about what had happened felt good or healthy or right, and how uncomfortable it was to live with only got worse as time passed by. Time did not heal this wound - it was just a gaping hole that got worn down into something bigger and even more terrifying. The things that had been left unsaid between all of you stopped you all from moving forward. You were still a child, but you took on the responsibility of your parents' separation as if it were your problem to fix. You weren't guilty - no, you knew that it had no bearing on you, and that there were so many circumstances beyond your control that had led to this. But even at such a tender age, you keenly felt the longing and desperate sadness both of your parents felt. It wasn't your responsibility to fix it, but you felt compelled to anyway. Nanny took you - she didn't ask why, but you think she just knew anyway, and didn't want to question you. You two had always trusted each other like that, and she did as you asked and found your father and put you in front of him. Come back, you said simply. Your father had looked ready to dismiss you gently, but you just reaffirmed yourself again. Dad. Come back. A couple of months later, Oliver Wood turned back up on Katie's doorstep, a markedly different man to the one who'd been kicked out. It wasn't immediate, but it worked - they worked - eventually. You think your dad is the sort of individual that needs to be nudged into some soul-searching every now and then. He's not like you, constantly thinking and self-aware, on a constant journey of self-improvement and actualisation; he will bury his head in the sand with problems where you will search for solutions. You and your father are different men, but none of it makes you love him any less. [/PTab={background-color:#f0f0f0;width:530px;height:290px;padding:10px;padding-top:0px;margin-top:-6px;}] [PTab=PLAYER] dancing till the next sunrise.
[/PTab={background-color:#f0f0f0;width:530px;height:290px;padding:10px;padding-top:0px;margin-top:-6px;}] [/PTabbedContent={width:550px;background-color:transparent;height:300px;padding:0px;border:0px;margin-left:-3px;margin-top:-20px;text-align:justify;color:#332F28;font-size:10px;}] CHALAMET, timothee as noah barnabas wood deltra of gangnam style [newclass=".PT_table .PT_tabs"]border: 0px;text-align:center;background-color: #f0f0f0;color:#333333;font:15px Oswald;text-transform:uppercase;-webkit-transition: all 0.2s ease; -moz-transition: all 0.2s ease; -o-transition: all 0.2s ease;[/newclass] [newclass=".PT_table .PT_tabs_hover"]border: 0px;text-align:center;background-color: #f0f0f0;color:#333333;font:15px Oswald;text-transform:uppercase;[/newclass] [newclass=".PT_table .PT_tabs_selected"]border: 0px;text-align:center;background-color: #f0f0f0;color:#3f8c7f;font:15px Oswald;text-transform:uppercase;-webkit-transition: all 0.2s ease; -moz-transition: all 0.2s ease; -o-transition: all 0.2s ease;[/newclass] [newclass=".PT_table .PT_tabs_selected_hover"]border: 0px;text-align:center;background-color: #f0f0f0;color:#3f8c7f;font:15px Oswald;text-transform:uppercase;[/newclass] [googlefont=Oswald]
last edited Mar 18, 2018 14:45:04 GMT by Admin Nel
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