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Post by DARLA ADRIENNE SELWYN on Jan 30, 2012 3:37:46 GMT 1
 It had been the worst day imaginable since the day Nick broke up with her. Though throughout the past week she’d been sad, depressed, mopey and the like, each day grew easier. But today, from morning until now, late tonight—it was rough. At breakfast, in the morning, the only seat available was three down from Nick. Darla looked at him once and only once but on more than one occasion, she felt his eyes seemingly burn into her skull. Then in class they were assigned to a potions project together and Darla had to embarrass herself, begging the professor to allow her to work alone or assign her someone else for a partner. Finally at Quidditch practice that night, everything went as well as could be expected. But it seemed as though quite a few bludgers were hit towards her, not away from her. Still- with the amount of contact the pair had that day, Darla was ready for an escape. Had it been the weekend, the brunette would be in a back corner booth of the Hogs Head, drowning her sorrows away. Unfortunately the days of the week were against her aswell, it being a Monday night.
The Slytherin sighed as she lay in her bed, the events of the day replaying in her mind. That and the letter from Nick’s father. The words were still burned in her brain. She was the worst thing to had ever happened to Nick. She held him back from all his goals and something as much as his inheritance were at her stake. ”Fine. If he’s going to choose money over me, I’m glad he went!” she told herself, springing out of her bed. She circled around her stone dormitory, the emerald, silver, and black curtains aligning their dungeon-home. Pacing back and forth until she came to response, a lightbulb inside of Darla went off. Like lighting she threw herself at her trunk, opening the still-charred wooden box searching for the secret compartment within the top. She huffed as she pushed and pulled on it, and in time, a click rung out through the sixth year girls dorm. A wicked smile came across her face and out a fresh bottle of firewhiskey came. ”Excellent” she muttered, intrigue dripping from her voice.
Darla sat there, kneeling on the ground within her empty dormitory. She uncorked the bottle and took a big swig, closing her eyes as the fiery liquid burned her throat and settled uncomfortably within her stomach. This was the new night’s plan—sit in her room and get drunk. But as that replayed within her mind, it grew to be more and more depressing—even pathetic. After taking another big swig, eyes closed once more, the girl started up the stairs and into the common room. She sat on a chair by the fire, the velvet-covered-furniture proving to feel as though it were the best thing she’d sat on in her life. Darla slumped lazily, her legs thrown over the arm rests. It was less pathetic now…or so she chose to believe; but at the core it was still Darla Selwyn, mending a broken heart with a bottle.
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Post by chelsea on Jan 31, 2012 17:31:19 GMT 1
Chelsea tucked her hair behind her ears as she strutted down the dungeons towards her dormitory. She wasn't in a particularly good mood and she was rather on the verge of losing her mind from both anger and irritations. Being the person she was, she'd rather adeptly found out the latest gossip in school, ninety percent of which was centered about the infamous "Nick-Darla" breakup and the other ten around who their new eye candy was going to be. So, it was natural she was annoyed since she'd rather not have the salt rubbed on her best friend's wounds. Others might not have seen it but she was the one who heard her tossing and turning each night in bed, or having a slightly hollow look in her eyes as they sat alone during meal times, without Nick's usual chatter from across them. She hissed the password as she stepped in and froze, her eyes travelling to the couch where said best friend lay sprawled, with a firewhiskey bottle clutched to her heart. She shook her head, a wry smile on her face as she threw her bag next to her friend, nearly hitting her with it.
"Drowning the pain in alcohol, are we?" she asked, holding her hand for the drink and snatching it before she got a response, taking a sip of her own. She let out a content sigh as it slid down her throat and winked at Darla, nudging her over as she sat on the arm of the chair. "I thought you'd want to go out and party, flirt some but here you are in a depressing dungeon, like an old widow," she said, sighing as she sat back, loosening her tie and then taking it off altogether. She closed her eyes for a few seconds, relaxing and enjoying the silence. It wasn't often that they had just a girl's night because for the past months Nick had always been around and she'd had her own flavor of the week tagging along, and even before that Nick always used to stay close in case Darla was too drunk to be careful. But she appreciated just the both of them and put an arm around the girl who was practically her sister.
She cracked open an eye, and turned her head to look at Darla. "You know..." she said, standing up and removing her black robe, so that she was more comfortable in just her shirt and skirt. "If we're staying in, might as well have some fun." She turned to the radio kept on the mantle, the one kept for news and headlines and she tinkered with the dial till a more chic station played their favorite songs, none of which were slow or boring. Dance music, to not let the melancholy in. She held her arm out, twirling around playfully to try and cheer her up. "Come on," she said. "Dance with me" she said, pretending to give a manly, sultry look before breaking into a giggle, hoping to get one out of her friend too.
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Post by DARLA ADRIENNE SELWYN on Feb 5, 2012 8:16:41 GMT 1
It had been a good while since the brunette began, and Darla was feeling the effects of her actions. With every swig she took, the burn grew less and less and even in the sitting position, she began to giggle as she shifted her eyes from left to right, feeling brief unsteadiness. It was nice, to laugh for even just a moment. A warm glow grew throughout her olive skin and she felt great. With new confidence, the Slytherin girl stood up, immediately reconsidering, and choosing the chair as her position once again. A sigh escaped her lips as she gripped the sides for support, a head rush coming from standing too quickly. When she regained her control once more, Darla took another swig from the bottle, its contents beginning to noticeably dwindle. She lazily rose an eyebrow and extended the bottle to appraise her work, and when she saw that she’d already finished off a third of the bottle, she frowned, staring into the fire once more.
By the time her drunken mind was able to fully focus on her self-given task, Chelsea came into eyesight. Chelsea Rosier was ‘head-bitch’ of the school and Darla’s best friend. They complimented one another so well, knew the other through and through and were deadly when together. ”Chelsea! What a radiant surprise, do sit down!” she hollored, in a wavering state. There she was though, will full knowledge as to exactly what the brunette was doing in the moment. The bottle of firewhiskey was stolen before Darla couldn’t even react, her own reflexes delaying severely. Eventually reality caught up to her, and her physical delay shortened. The brunette gave a great sigh of sadness as Chelsea compared her to an old widow, even with her friend consoling her. Chelsea was right, she should be partying—but here she was, mourning her loss. ”Chelsea, I can’t be with other guys” she began to jump at the punch, the alcohol making the girl reveal the truth in a much more over-the-top manner. ”I love him, even though he says he doesn’t love me. I can’t do that to him!” she added, ignoring her friend’s words.
The Slytherin girl quirked a brow as Chelsea removed her robe, eventually adding a giggle to her friend’s flirty body language. Cat calls were followed, with Darla doing the same, slipping out of her own school robe into her shirt with loosened tie and short skirt. She stood up quickly, again the head rush coming at her quickly, but found herself moving towards the blonde ready to dance it all away. Darla kept the firewhiskey on hand, taking swigs every few moments offering the bottle back to her friend. The pain of Nick continued to dull, but only just. Normally, he’d be here, reminding her that she was a light weight.
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