<div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/1/1c/Lyre_Sly_2.jpg)</div><strong>NAME:</strong>Lyre Savage (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=284413.msg14118339#msg14118339)<br/><strong>Blood Status:</strong>Pure<br/><strong>Wand:</strong>Maple, Dragon Heartstring, 13 in, Unbending, literally glowing<br/><strong>House/Year:</strong>Slytherin 3rd Year<br/><strong>Date:</strong>Friday, September 29th, 2017<br/><strong>Time/Day:</strong>Evening<br/><strong>LOCATION:</strong>Bonfire, Black Lake<br/><strong>CONTENT:</strong>Reflections. Schemes.<br/><strong>THEME:</strong>✵✧･ﾟSparks...✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ* sparks...✦*✧･ﾟ (https://youtu.be/1ELsNShJM6E)<br/><strong>TAGGING:</strong><em>Iain McGregor! Jaxon Smith! Finley and Orion! Moray and Xerxes!</em><br/><hr/><br/>Lyre's lips softened. They spread wider, a plucky smile, to hide the tiny hurt. He figured from Iain's cheeky reply that he must've stopped listening; short attention span, maybe. No matter how he insisted that it was going to be a real dinner, he was still given instructions anyway to make it edible - especially eat-able - and cooked in a pot.<em> Didn't he hear me say that I was making it in a kitchen?</em>What changed?<br/><br/>Something swerved. Was it ... because he talked about his family?<br/><br/><em>Of course it was.</em>How could he be stupid, that fucking naive, to even think that didn't pose such a huge problem for the noble, uppity Gryffindor? Could he blame him? Flashbacks to all the bones the Savages licked clean, how could he forget the crimes and the sins he helped commit over the years? Muggles that suffered his wrath? Was it so medicinal being around Iain McGregor that made him feel like a kid again back to a time when he was innocent and kinder, forward to a future where he could be a better man, someone different? Did chaste, lionhearted Iain give him hope that he could be ... deserving? With the way the cutie deflected, there was no way. Was there.<br/><br/>No atonement, no redeeming trust. Iain was a Gryffindor and Lyre was a Slytherin.<br/>Nephew to a Death Eater, an ally of Voldemort who died here, trying to tear down this school.<br/><br/>Lyre blinked deeply, almost cringing ashamed. All that pureblood bollocks. He tried not to judge or even self-loathe. Even a Coldplay song came to mind. That bad, huh? With stung eyes looking over Iain's handsome face once more, he would have made a real sweetheart, wanting and not wanting to forget this awful moment. Still there he was. Stuck. He morosely glanced at the fire to end the heartsore; why did he want to talk to Iain? Why offer dinner? He wanted to, without knowing the reason. He didn't remember why they didn't work out. That much was a fog. All he knew was that he still wanted something to work. Is that what the problem was? Because of the stark differences in the flesh and blood who bred them? Was that so important? Yes, yes it was in fact. Lyre sighed, thinking of the crests Iain so proudly engraved into his skin. Lyre thought miserably to taunt himself:<em>Wherefore art thou Iain? Deny thy father and refuse thy name, or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love and I'll no longer be a Savage? How fucking weak.</em><br/><br/>The moment passed easily, getting lost in the magic of the dancing fire. So Lyre pretended what unfortunately happened never happened, that nothing changed. He would deny reality some more.<em>And honestly, how would I get a butchered dragon in short notice? I was only thinking Italian. Pasta for christ's sake.</em>That said, the words "edible" and "pot" made him salivate for what he shouted out for earlier. He thought he imagined the pungent cannabis fragrance too, surely all in his head, until Jaxon Smith worked his way through the crowd with a smoky spliff before heading to the lake side.<em>What is it with witches and wizards going to a bonfire party to be alone? </em><br/><br/>"Ah. Excuse me, Iain. I have to go make a purchase."<br/><br/>Lyre gave Iain a hinting look and then surprised him with a forbidden embrace. His chest and navel lingered, leaning into Iain's.<br/>That body heat... He whispered in his ear, tempted to kiss, but only brave enough to breathe on:<em>Don't be a stranger, mate.</em><br/><br/>He backed into darkness, his firelit eyes trained on the jock. Lyre's voice lowered, a bit sing-song.<br/>"Tomorrow night... seven-thirty... Dress your finest, you won't regret it ...! Mayhaps!"<br/><br/>Feeling his heart snow and drop in a spiral, like an owl with broken wings, Lyre left without looking back. Iain may never show up, but he could be wrong. Eating dinner alone didn't seem half bad. His sneakers trudged closer to the smell of water and wet soil. His eyes settled upon a shocking sight that tripped him up; Finley and Orion together on a blanket? Snogging? Ugh. Jealousy flared within. Disgustingly cute. Even Moray and Xerxes were getting chummy! Just as they had during the day of the Sorting.<br/><br/>That sneaky boy. He had known Moray-ray was getting laid before him tonight. Told her so himself.<br/><br/>Approaching the silhouette further down the sparkling lake side, Lyre muttered with ire and relief. Also mixed with guilt. This obvious heterosexual was Muggleborn and Lyre's family may have ruined his parents? He wasn't completely sure on this. Their list of Muggle victims was long enough to roll around the entire world and overlap, their misdeeds going generations back centuries. At least Jaxon had Darcy. Everyone was paired off!<br/><br/>"Just in time, Jax. Blooming marvelous you're here. Life is utter shite."<br/><br/>He hadn't meant to unload like that. He unpocketed sickles and galleons, "How much for a splashbag?"<br/><br/><hr/>