9 Dec 2024, 02:20
A Song of Blood
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| xx | 𝙽𝙾𝚅𝙴𝙼𝙱𝙴𝚁 𝟸𝟹, 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟺 》𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙲𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚍 𝙲𝚊𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚢 |
𝙰 𝚂𝙾𝙽𝙶 𝙾𝙵 𝙱𝙻𝙾𝙾𝙳 |
𝙴𝙽𝙶𝙻𝙸𝚂𝙷 | 𝙵𝚁𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙷 @Winnie Harper |
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| xxx | 𝓒reases deepened in the parchment, nails threatening to puncture clean through the letter. Grey eyes scanned the contents below lofted brows, over and over. No matter how many times she read the words, though, the wrong message continued to read out.
This summer. Not the summer of 2027 after graduation. Not even next summer. This one. How had this even happened? She could still recall the conversation following the proposal as though it were last night. Winnie had been adamant that the wedding—if there was even going to be one—wouldn't happen until after graduation. What had happened to the O.W.L's and N.E.W.T's and planning and every other objection that had been raised in defense of a length engagement period. Merlin's beard, they were still in fifth year! It couldn't be real. The questionable idea of dating at all aside, Evelynn could not understand why Winnie insisted on dating him. The summer had affirmed that the Gryffindor was decidedly not alone with her perspective that Pride was not the charmingly attentive boyfriend that he tried to paint himself out to be. They had confronted Winnie, pointed out the inconsistencies and frankly concerning patterns, corroborating each other's interpretation of the relationship; and yet, it seemed to have amounted to nothing. Worse than that, really. If Evelynn was reading the letter correctly, Winnie was no longer ignorant of her situation, and yet was choosing to move forward with it anyway.
There had to be some sort of mistake. Right? The only way to know for sure, of course, would be to confront her directly. Evelynn had put it off for too long now as it was. She should have—had meant to—tracked the eaglette down immediately after the gala, to pry into her circumstances and the obvious tension surrounding the proposal. It hadn't been so simple a matter, though. Some matters were better left alone, and Evelynn struggled to know to what degree she had a right to meddle. If any at all. Not that that had stopped her in the past, but when it came to those for whom she actually held a shred of regard, she had to be a bit more delicate in her approach. Winnie was her friend, after all, and friends had a duty to look out for one another, to speak up for what was in the best interest of each other even if that meant speaking hard truths. But then again, that attempt had already been made during the summer camp, and it had seemingly amounted to nothing. Surely at some point, a friend just had to accept the decisions made and stand by in support of them, no? Waiting in the wings to pick up the pieces in the eventuality that everything fell apart? She pulled her lip in over her bottom teeth, biting at it. Were they just friends, though? Her gaze panned to her enchanted satchel, towards the letters she knew lingered within easy reach of the entrance, letters that had been all but forgotten until recently when desperation to find her journal had seen her turn the entirety of her belongings inside out. How long had they been in her possession now? A year? Two? Once again, she pulled them free from where they'd been stowed, laying them down upon the table, spread out atop Winnie's recent solicitation for bridesmaids, obscuring the heretical invitation.
Adelaide. Evelynn's mother. It had been during a belated spring cleaning when Evelynn had been home for the summer and sequestered to the attic by her mother's own command that she'd first found the old correspondence. Tucked inside a shoe box with moth eaten lace, pressed flowers and at least one spider that wasn't as dead as the fortunately fearless girl had initially been lead to believe was a collection of letters and cards, receipts and newspaper clippings. A box of memories it had been, though many of them threatened to fall to pieces with even the most delicate touch. By the layer of dust covering the lid, it was clear to Evelynn that they had been shunned to shadows with every intent to be forgotten, yet clinging with just enough strength to the light to avoid the destitution of a landfill.
That hadn't spared most of the contents from Evelynn's discriminatory efforts, but she hadn't quite been able to send the words of affection mercilessly to the shredder. Neither had she been able to bring herself to raise them to her mother's attention for input. As far as Evelynn had ever known, her mother had never married. Never even dated. Or if she had, it had never amounted to anything significant. The story told was one where her mother never felt the need for partnership in the traditional sense, but had always wanted to be a mother and so had gone through official channels to seek a donor. It was always described as quite the sterile process, and her mother's investment in her career always supported that lens. So there had been something mortifyingly gripping about reading the heart-felt words, as though a window had been opened into a secret garden not meant for prying eyes.
It was nauseating, really. Had it not been for her mother's name as recipient, the letters could just as easily have been copied down from some overly flowery romance novel packed to the brim with purple prose. The writer, this Fionnagáin, really seemed to lay it on thick. She could recall reading through them originally how @Marshal Mozor would have approved of such waxing of poetry. It had always taken every fiber of her being to stop herself from laughing at just how ridiculous it all sounded, only then to remind herself that clearly her mother had actually enjoyed it if she had kept them for so long. She was just glad not to be privy to the responding letters. Having to read the same romantic frill in her mother's own hand might have been legitimately more traumatizing than murderous dolls.
Still, Evelynn would have let them be as merely a lapse of character judgment from a time long past, giving her mother the benefit of the doubt with the assumption that these had been correspondence from a time of ignorant youth were it not for one key detail: they had been dated. And more to the point, the last letter had been dated for the month prior to Evelynn's birth. It was the third letter that always drew her gaze to read and reread, its contents damning on levels that always seemed to reach new heights. She had ignored it at the time. Refused to believe any narrative than the one she had been previously fed. Even with the rediscovery of the letters over the summer and the reminder of the mysterious man's surname, she had rationalized it as common. The existence of the cougar on the sigil being the very same as her own animagus form, coincidental. At some point, Evelynn had silently accepted the possibility that there may have been more to the nature of her conception than her family would admit. She had left it at that, however, content to leave the status quo unblemished. But when Winnie off-handedly identified Puma concolor couguar from her family crest, it was impossible to dismiss the new information as inconsequential. Try as she might, Evelynn couldn't ignore the signs: Winnie's love of poetry, the copper tresses, the similar fine features. And then there was the final nail. Winnie's date of birth, September 25, 2008—one of the first things the Gryffindor had every learned about the Ravenclaw—happened to be nearly 8 months after the last letter. Putting it exactly on the timeline where a man might find out that his partner had become with child. And exactly in the position to provide enough supporting evidence for a familial theory. If she was being honest with herself, Evelynn had drawn a conclusion of sibling relevance months ago. The only thing she hadn't done was bring it to the attention of the other involved party. Perhaps it was past time for that. If there was truth to it. If Winnie could corroborate her suspicions, then Evelynn's position in this whole matrimonial affair with Pride wasn't merely as a friend. It was as family. At no point had the idea of allowing a friend to march down an aisle to their collapse of their identity and personal values sat well with her. She was hardly ever satisfied with any plan that involved 'doing nothing'. Standing by while others allowed harm to come to themselves was not something for which the lioness was known. For better or worse, she was a meddler. And if blood was on the line, those ingrained tendencies would only amplify. By choosing the wizarding world over the muggle world, she had already effectively lost her mother. Evelynn wasn't about to lose the only kin she had left. It was just that... she'd thought she had more time to finesse a plan. To let Winnie come to her own decisions and work her own way out. But it seemed time—or Fate—was not on her side. In a snap decision, one she should have made ages ago, Evelynn gathered up the letters and folded them with swift deliberation. Bag thrown over one shoulder, she moved for the corridor, cloak billowing behind her. Purposeful strides carried her through the halls with a singular destination in mind. True to her colours, the Library had always been a zone of comfort for Winnie, especially this time of year when the typically attractive solitude of an empty classroom meant an accompanying chill that clutched pervasively to the bone. The roaring fires of the Library, regularly attended by house elves, mitigated that particular conundrum, and would no doubt be the more appealing option for repose. With luck, she wouldn't have to search long. The moment she spotted the strawberry blonde, Evelynn breathed easier. Somewhat. The hunt was the easy part, after all. There was no way to know how the conversation was going to go, but there was only one way to find out. "Winnie..." Evelynn called out on approach in a low murmur, loud enough to be heard over the surrounding din, but not with so much volume as to alarm. "Please forgive my intrusion. I received your letter. About your upcoming nuptials." She was careful to keep her voice clear of any contempt or judgment. "I will admit I was a bit surprised that the date had been pushed up so significantly," she continued after a moment of hesitation. "I was hoping we could talk about it. I was also wondering if perhaps you could help me with something." Pushing through the last layers of uncertainty, she lowered herself into the chair across from the fifth-year. Unfolding the three letters penned by a Fionnagáin Harper, she laid them on the table near enough for Winnie to see. A nail tapped once on one of the crests. "Does this mean anything to you?" |
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9 Dec 2024, 21:25
A Song of Blood
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Interacting: @Evelynn Decipio
Mentioning: @Mathias Pride
As Winnie sat at one of the long wooden library tables, she had to fight to keep her eye lids from closing. A book on dining etiquette was laid out in front of her, lit by the flickering chandelier light. She had been leaning heavily on studying these days, but not for the OWLs, as her peers were, but rather on how to become a lady suited to navigate pureblood society, as to not embarrass poor Mathias.
'While in polite company, your napkin must always remain folded on your lap. It should remain there during the duration of the meal. Should you need to excuse yourself, you make place your napkin on the seat of your chair to signal to the wait staff that you will return. Do not place the napkin on the table until after the host has placed their napkin on the table, signifying the end of the meal.'
What? Napkins were literally for wiping the dirty food off of your face, and she had always used disposal napkins that were quickly tossed in the bin. Why did it matter where they went and why did each placement have a hidden meaning? This was confusing, not to mention terribly boring. Why the hell was there so many forks and cups? Could you not just reuse a fork? Her mother always made her lick her dinner fork clean before serving dessert, it saved on dishes and water.
Winnie rubbed her eyes and stifled a yawn as she read the next passage. 'When you have finished your meal, you must lay your fork and knife diagonally across the plate, side by side, pointing at 10:00 and 4:00 on a clock face. This signifies to the wait staff that you have finished.'
'Winnie...' A voice called out. Thank Merlin. She didn't care who was calling her, at this point she'd take even Gideon interrupting her studying session; his torment couldn't hold a candle to whatever this nonsense was.
"Hi, Evie!" Winnie greeted her fellow redhead with a smile, until a student several seats down shushed her. The Ravenclaw shot them an annoyed look before turning her attention back to Evelynn, "Oh... I know it seems a bit rushed, but Ma—Erm, we did not see the need to delay our commitment to each other."
They had done a bit of compromising with Winnie finally getting his permission to play Quidditch professionally, so she wasn't going to push her luck. She had never imagined she would be married while still attending Hogwarts, but apparently it wasn't uncommon among purebloods to make such early commitments.
"Oh, I'm happy to help!" Especially if it got her out of studying... The importance of forks or something dumb. She blinked down at the letters as Evelynn slid them over to her.
Her eyes were instantly drawn the image of a golden cougar playing a harp, surrounded by forget-me-nots, "this... This is my family crest." She didn't use it on her own owls, but her grandparents and Gigi did. She'd recognize it anywhere.
The Ravenclaw fell silent as she read each letter, her eyes widening at the signature at the bottom. Fionnagáin Harper, "That's my father's name, but who is Adelaide?"
Her blue eyes started to cloud with emotions, her heart clenching as she remembered the last letter her father had sent her. "Evelynn... Where did you get these letters? I... I haven't heard from my father since my first year at Hogwarts."
Her mind raced as she read through the second letter. She tried to figure out what it meant. Her father was clearly in love with someone named Adelaide, which made her stomach churn. The poor woman, someone should warn her. She was about to suggest as much when her eyes caught the date of the letters. 2008. A shaking hand quickly pulled the third letter to the top of the pile.
She wasn't sure when the tears started to streak down her cheeks, but she allowed them to fall. This woman will remain an unwanted specter in our lives. Her heart ached at the thought of her mother, one of the kindest women she knew, reduced to nothing more than an unwanted responsibility. She had been pregnant... With Winnie. One that is an unwelcome constant reminder of my failure to remain loyal to you. It was this sentence that hit the hardest. Even before she was born, he had never wanted her. Not for a single moment.
Her chest tightened, and she dropped the letter back onto the table. A sob escaped her lips, and she pressed the back of her hand to her mouth to try and swallow any other that might try to surface. "... Why are you showing this to me?" She eventually whispered, "Why are you reminding me of how little importance I am to my father?"
│ │ | │ │ | STA: 15 • EVA: 18 • STR: 8 WIS: 11 • ARC: 7 • ACC: 17 | │ │ | • Healing Sage • Muggle Condition • Paragon of Health • • Poison Resistance • Animagus • Wandmaker • Lovely Creature • | │ │ | │ │ |
12 Dec 2024, 00:59
A Song of Blood
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| xx | 𝙽𝙾𝚅𝙴𝙼𝙱𝙴𝚁 𝟸𝟹, 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟺 》𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙲𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚍 𝙲𝚊𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚢 |
𝙰 𝚂𝙾𝙽𝙶 𝙾𝙵 𝙱𝙻𝙾𝙾𝙳 |
𝙴𝙽𝙶𝙻𝙸𝚂𝙷 | 𝙵𝚁𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙷 @Winnie Harper |
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| xxx | 𝓦hatever thoughts may have jumped to mind at the suggestion that the newlyweds saw no reason to delay their commitment was kept well guarded. For now. There were a hundred rational explanations why neither of them should be stepping forward into matrimony, not the least of which was their relative immaturity for such a large decision and how Winnie's family hadn't even been aware of the proposal prior to its arrival. Not even Notrévasce had exchanged vows while she remained a student at Hogwarts, and sometimes it had seemed like her betrothal was the only thing she could talk about. Barely a month had passed since the very public display. Evelynn held significant doubt that the resistance Winnie had displayed had been entirely abated. But she would get to that in a bit. Evelynn wasn't entirely sure what she had been expecting, or hoping for, when she'd slid the letters over to the Ravenclaw. The lioness, more than most, enjoyed the feeling of being right. If Winnie confirmed her suspicions, this would ultimately prove to be the most significant revelation of life, second only to learning about her affinity for magic. And the moment recognition of the crest was voiced, Evelynn couldn't help the elation of watching a puzzle piece falling solidly into place. Her gaze fixed to Winnie's countenance, observing the girl's expression for the subtlest of reactions. Not that subtle would typically be associated with the bride-to-be, and this instance was no exception. Had the Gryffindor spent even a fraction of the time she'd invested in following the strings of this particular conspiracy theory, she might have considered how hurtful it would be for Winnie to be on the receiving end of those letters. As was commonly her downfall, however, Evelynn had fixated upon the mystery. That realization fell swift and heavy upon her as Winnie's eyes began to cloud over, the resolve of this pursuit slipping on the unmistakable sheen of held-back emotion. Even the confirmation of Fionnagáin Harper's identity couldn't offset the hollow ache of guilt that had started settling into her belly. Winnie asked who Adelaide was and where Evelynn had gotten the letters, but Evelynn couldn't quite seem to get out the answers. Lips parted then closed again, eyes falling to the uncovered truth now laid bare between them. It really wasn't until Winnie's last question, one that sounded more like an accusation than anything else, that the lioness realized just how little she really knew of the Ravenclaw. She knew her birthday and favourite colour and affinity for strawberries. Evelynn could probably recite a number of poetry pieces that Winnie had quoted over the years and give a detail description of her fashion inclinations, the problems she had with Pride, and recount a plethora of shared experiences. But when it came to how she was raised or her family dynamics, Evelynn hadn't a clue. Never would it have occurred to her that Winnie could be of 'little importance' to anyone, let alone her father. The way smiles and friends came so enviably easily, the assumption that she had had a normal family life had been an easy one to make. But maybe the joy and life that seemed to follow her wherever she went was compensatory.. "Winnie..." Lips crimped as Evelynn forced her gaze to lift in search of Winnie's. "Please believe that I had no desire to cause you pain..." She expressed in earnest, the tone of her voice low to match. "I have wavered for so long on whether or not there was any substance to these, but the thing is..." Hesitation gripped her for a moment, lips briefly pulling in over her teeth to press together. "Adelaide..." She breathed the name like a secret admission. "...is my mother. I never knew my father. And if what is in these letters is true..." Her hands slid forward, fingertips brushing against the top edges of the aged pieces of parchment. A lump formed in her throat. This moment had played in her head a hundred times and more, but to actually have come to it. To be sitting on the verge of putting her suspicions to voice, it was almost more than she could bear. Once said, it could not be taken back, and no matter how many times she thought about it, she couldn't quite decide if it was better to carry on as though she'd never found the letters in the first place. But she had come this far, and deep down, a compelling force allowed her to find her voice. After all, to have someone—family—who could actually fully grasp what it was like to live in the wizarding world, wasn't that all she had wanted since coming to Hogwarts? Her own eyes clouded, then, lips quivering with the significance of the moment, and when she spoke, it was barely more than a whisper. "...I think we might be sisters." |
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15 Dec 2024, 22:00
A Song of Blood
‿︵‿୨✿୧‿︵‿
Interacting: @Evelynn Decipio
Mentioning:
Winnie's fingers slid up her cheeks to dab away the tears that had been forming. She knew the switch in Evelynn's tone was likely to try and soothe her, but it wasn't enough to shake the words of the letters. They refused to leave her mind: an unwanted specter, an unwelcome constant reminder. It was not the kind of cruelty masked with affection that she had learned to endure from Mathias, it was clean cut, sharp, and casual. The mourning of a life her father could not have because of her very existence.
Adelaide is my mother. Evelynn had told her. So her father had been having an affair on top of all of this? No, her mother had been the other woman... She could hear the Gryffindor talking, but it was hard to absorb what she was saying as her mind drifted to a distant memory.Her eyes flickered back up to her tentmate's face when realization hit her like a ton of bricks. Adelaide was her mother. Evelynn was older than Winnie. Her lips parted, but no sound came at first.Note: This memory will be shared with Eve through her Wampus Hair wand.
It was the night of her eighth birthday, after she had her first instance of magic. She had been woken by the sound of shouting. Sliding out of the comfort of her warm bed, she’d padded softly across the cottage's cold floor to the creaky wooden staircase of Stonehaven.
She crouched low at the landing, her tiny fingers gripping the railing. The roaring fire the lighting their features, she peeked through the railing to watch her parents as they fought, something that wasn't uncommon in the Harper household.
Her mother’s voice was raised but trembling as she spoke. “You can’t hide who she is anymore, Fionnagáin. She deserves to know about your world. She deserves to know where she belongs.”
A sound, a frustrated interjection came from her father. “Belongs? She doesn’t belong anywhere. She’s not a muggle, she's not a proper wizard. A child caught between two worlds. The wizarding world will show her nothing but cruelty, she'd be safer as a muggle. Wizards will see her for what she is; a mistake.”
"Don't... Don't say that about her. She's still your daughter!" Her mother had shouted back, a sob accompanying her words.
"Goddammit, Saoirse, I didn't even want her!"
She'd stared wide-eyed from her place on the landing, just as frozen as her mother. After listening to her mother burst into tears and her father quickly backpaddling to try and comfort her, Winnie fled the scene and crawled back underneath the covers of her bed. She held her hands against her ears, but the damage was already done, the words searing themselves in her heart. She would try to tell herself later that it had just been a dream, but deep down she knew his words were as real as the tears that had soaked her pillow that night.
"... Sisters...? We're... Sisters?" Sisters. Evelynn was her sister. Her face lit up at first, a smile breaking through her sorrow for a mere moment before another realization hit her.
She thought she had been alone in her aching hollowness. The sense of loss knowing you were not a child brought into the world because of love.
But Eve, her sweet, caring friend, had been cursed as well.
In a fraction of a second, Winnie surged forward, throwing her arms around the Gryffindor. "I'm so sorry, Evie..." Winnie said, her voice cracking as she cried into the older redhead's shoulder. "I w-would love to be your sister, but... If I am... That means... He's your father and... You deserve a better father than..." A better father than Fionnagáin Harper.
│ │ | │ │ | STA: 15 • EVA: 18 • STR: 8 WIS: 11 • ARC: 7 • ACC: 17 | │ │ | • Healing Sage • Muggle Condition • Paragon of Health • • Poison Resistance • Animagus • Wandmaker • Lovely Creature • | │ │ | │ │ |
23 Dec 2024, 00:44
A Song of Blood
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| xx | 𝙽𝙾𝚅𝙴𝙼𝙱𝙴𝚁 𝟸𝟹, 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟺 》𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙲𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚍 𝙲𝚊𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚢 |
𝙰 𝚂𝙾𝙽𝙶 𝙾𝙵 𝙱𝙻𝙾𝙾𝙳 |
𝙴𝙽𝙶𝙻𝙸𝚂𝙷 | 𝙵𝚁𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙷 @Winnie Harper |
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| xxx | 𝓘t had been some time since Evelynn had been graced—or cursed as the case may be—with another's vision. The last one of any significance had been what she'd eventually determined to be a nightmare that had roused @Pericles Dralt from slumber during the summer camp. That the revelation of their possible sisterhood would raise an emotional reaction was to be expected. What Evelynn had not anticipated was that the veils would thin sufficiently for her own vision to be overshadowed by the past. Winnie had not witnessed the Gryffindor in such a state before, eyes clouded, unblinking, staring forward to something unseen by any of those around her. She could feel the shift in temperature and the hard floor beneath her feet as an unfamiliar room blurred past in favour of a descending stairwell. Little fingers came into view, her own, she supposed, gripping at the rails. But it was to the figures beyond that remained framed in focus. Neither of them were familiar, yet like a dream where faces didn't exist, she simply knew them to be her mother and father. A portion of Evelynn's awareness always managed to follow her into these states, like a passenger upon a shoulder, and despite an inability to shift the direction of focus or the change the progression of the narrative, she found herself drawn particularly to the face of the man. Fascination mixed with an anger embellished by the pain the roared words of the argument had seared into the original listener's memory. Full awareness was already returning before the last of the vision faded. Moisture had collected in her eyes quite uncontrollably, chest rising and falling with rapid breaths that had matched the rate of the small girl cowering in her bed with hands over her ears. It was an effect of embodying the memory. For its duration, she piggybacked on the sensations of the original imprintee. She saw what they saw, heard what they heard, felt what they felt. It could leave her in a state of panic if rousing from a recollection of terror, or dissolved in a puddle of tears. This occasional left her closer to the latter, and regardless of the outcome, the transition left her momentarily vulnerable as she reoriented to her surroundings. She was only vaguely aware of Winnie's repetition of the word 'sisters' before finding herself enveloped in a tight embrace. Another few seconds of blinking away the last of the quickly fading vision passed before her own arms lifted to settle around the other girl's petite frame. A lump rose to her throat, invisible tendrils of emotions constricting. Winnie's warmth brought with it a strange revelation. There was closure in a way, to finally have been able to bring some level of confirmation to her suspicions to voice. Yet rather than close a chapter, it only opened another. She'd never had a sibling. Had barely had a family. For the great majority of her recent formative years, her life had revolved solely around her mother. With boarding school, even that had been sparse at times. Yet the notion of family wasn't foreign to her. Hers was a matriarchal line that harbored strong bonds on the other continent. She missed it, but not enough to abandon her education in Scotland to return when her mother had informed her that her work overseas would be coming to an end this coming summer. Maybe things would have been different if Evelynn had never found out about her magical roots. Then there would be nothing tying her here. But the wizarding world changed everything. Her relationship with her mother had suffered for it. After all, how could you maintain a relationship if you couldn't relate? But now... The idea of having someone here, at Hogwarts, someone that Evelynn could see and touch and speak openly about magic and the wizarding world in a way that she used to be able to... Someone she didn't have to prove anything to or lie out of omission for the benefit of their own sanity... Someone she didn't have to pretend to relinquish control even though she had been able to provide more thoroughly for herself as a witch of eleven than her mother would ever be able to do as a muggle... It felt like she had been standing on the outskirts of a gaited garden and finally the chain had been unlocked. Still raw from what she'd heard, she couldn't quite stemmy the tears. They flowed freely, arms tightening about Winnie in a way that suggested she never wanted to let go. Face nestling into her shoulders, Evelynn murmured, "I never had a father before... I still do not have one... But I do now have a sister..." |
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