Post by Lukas Hexcaster on Sept 2, 2013 10:05:57 GMT -7
Lukas walked into Greymark manor through the front door and slammed the door. He was pissed, to put it bluntly. Messenger bag slung around his shoulder, he went through the hall to the kitchen and slammed his bag onto the counter. Not hungry. The boy's booted feet stomped up the back staircase to his room on the third floor. He just went to see Chance. The evening air was extremely romantic, and the sunset made one of the perfect backdrops for their "date". But, of course, Chance's father saw him sneak out and followed, causing Lukas to need to sprint away so that his father didn't see him. Chance then needed to make up some lame excuse of going to get fresh air. By the Angel, why couldn't they just love each other without needing to sneak out!?
The boy, in his anger, slammed his bedroom door, flopped onto his bed and yelled into his pillow. Sometimes he wished he was just a mundane kid. Not a Shadowhunter. They lived such simple lives. But Lukas looked at the runes up his arms and remembered that he couldn't escape this life he was handed, no matter how much he wanted to. Lukas screamed again into his pillow and rolled over, the four-poster bed creaking under the large boy's weight.
His room, as usual, was a complete mess. Papers and books were scattered everywhere, his bookshelves with and without books, his desk askew with pens, papers, books and other thing. The dresser and wardrobe were open with clothes and hangers everywhere and his bed was not made. The only thing that actually looked organized in the entire room was his night table. Books were carefully stacked, the lamp clean and free of dust, and the picture with all of his family before the fire in perfect condition in a frame his mother once owned. But Lukas was so mad he almost knocked over his lamp. He didn't know if Luke was home or not, but he knew that he had heard his godson.
The boy, in his anger, slammed his bedroom door, flopped onto his bed and yelled into his pillow. Sometimes he wished he was just a mundane kid. Not a Shadowhunter. They lived such simple lives. But Lukas looked at the runes up his arms and remembered that he couldn't escape this life he was handed, no matter how much he wanted to. Lukas screamed again into his pillow and rolled over, the four-poster bed creaking under the large boy's weight.
His room, as usual, was a complete mess. Papers and books were scattered everywhere, his bookshelves with and without books, his desk askew with pens, papers, books and other thing. The dresser and wardrobe were open with clothes and hangers everywhere and his bed was not made. The only thing that actually looked organized in the entire room was his night table. Books were carefully stacked, the lamp clean and free of dust, and the picture with all of his family before the fire in perfect condition in a frame his mother once owned. But Lukas was so mad he almost knocked over his lamp. He didn't know if Luke was home or not, but he knew that he had heard his godson.