That Which You Leave Behind SOLO fin.

Date: 24 April 2025
Time: After classes
Location: Trophy Room

· · ─────── · 𖢨 · ─────── · ·

The trophy room's grand fireplace roared with golden tongues of flame even as April readied itself to lean into the misty warmth of May. As the logs in the hearth smouldered, as the flames flickered and danced, the light emanating from the fireplace caused each trophy case to reflect a shimmering mirage of an orange, kaleidoscopic nebula on each square metre of wall, floor and ceiling in the room — but each sparkling bit of light also caused long, dark shadows to scintillate and slink across the floor.

One such shadow was that of Koko herself — an angular, straight-backed silhouette that, due to the intensity of the fireplace, stood far taller than the girl herself. She had been in the trophy room even before the sun began to slither beneath the waiting horizon, the low heels of her cream-coloured ankle boots clicking as if they were a metronome. She continued to pace, each set of calculated strides taking her from one side of the room to the next, and back again. The flames found themselves reflected in the dark amber of her eyes as she kept her chin up and back straight. She opened her mouth for a moment; a tiny amount of red lipstick glinted on one of her teeth before she went back to chewing the inside of her lip in thought.

Each trophy, each name, each towering sepulchre of success stood silently, beckoning Koko to stare, to seethe, to snarl — but she remained with her lips sealed shut, her gaze very curiously straight ahead, never bothering to catch on any glimmering names or shining trophies... except for one.

She paused in her pacing to press her fingertips against the half-fragile glass of one of the trophy cases. The red of her fingernails flaunted a façade almost like the red of an amaryllis flower in the flickering firelight. The genial gold of gorgeous lettering grinned at her, and her lips curved into a small half-smile as she gazed at the words in front of her. A burning sensation boiled behind her eyes; she blinked it away and continued to gaze at the trophy she and her teammates had toiled and troubled for. They had laid siege to the sport of Quidditch and had seized the spectacular spoils of war, and if Koko had anything to say of it this year, all she would say is that they would do it again.

But what about next year?

Her smile faded, and her eyes narrowed as she once again turned away from the trophy and continued to pace. The tapping of the tips of her shoes was practically intolerable, an amalgamation of withheld anger and agitation that the girl — no, now the young woman, which she was so cruelly reminded of now — only rid herself of through pacing, through sport and occasionally through harsh words.

She was eighteen now. Eighteen with a penchant for pretty things and not much else. Eighteen with a school that seemed to love her, but eighteen with few connections and even fewer prospects outside of only perhaps professional Quidditch, if she were even good enough to secure a job. And who knew if she would like it? She was so used to being one of the better, older, more experienced players at school, one who the younger students sometimes asked for advice...

She imagined herself sat on a bench with nothing to say for herself, and the sharp tongue of iron danced on her tongue. She swore under her breath and crossed her arms over her chest, casting a scathing glance at the trophy that now cast a colossal shadow in front of her feet. She was eighteen now — and what of it? Being an adult meant that everything she had built here truly meant nothing, that she would have to start from the beginning once again, that she would be lucky to be considered halfway decent, let alone the best.

Koko sighed and leant against an empty spot between two separate trophy cases. She had to squeeze her shoulders inwards in order to fit, but the new spot gave her a moment to breathe, to think. She brushed a stray strand of blonde — but gold-reflected — hair out of her face and took a handkerchief from her skirt's pocket before rubbing at the lipstick she knew had caught on one of her teeth. She glanced through lowered lashes at the trophy, now across the room, and pursed her lips in thought. If the team could keep up the momentum even after she was gone, then perhaps all her efforts had amounted to something.

But was it enough to sow the seeds of success if you could not reap the glory?

Koko lifted herself away from the wall and stalked towards the exit of the trophy room, this time refusing to stare at the previously-offensive trophy. As she left, she kept her back straight, her chin raised, her gaze nonchalant, but silently, to herself, she vowed that even after she left a legacy of splendour behind, she would move forward in search of nothing but future accolades.

· · ─────── · 𖢨 · ─────── · ·

thread end.