Youthful Observations
Excerpts from Lottie's Childhood
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| xxx | When Lottie was five years old, she wanted to be just like her oldest brother, Louis. Ethel was four years old at this time, and Francis was three. Anadil was a solid twelve already, a fairly accomplished student at Hogwarts, though not as accomplished as Louis, who was already first-string seeker by the time he was in his second year. That was all that Lottie saw. Anadil, a soprano for the frog choir, and Louis, a seeker, an academic, and likely on track for prefect if he kept his work up. So, Lottie had determined at this age that she would be just like him. Louis was much like their father, in that he did not often speak. The summer before his third year and Anadil's second, Louis had stayed mostly locked in his room, only leaving for supper and their mother's many parties. This was back when Delphine was at her peak, recently receiving her inheritance from Evangeline and riding that high ever since. It seemed every week there was a new gala or concert or intimate get-together gracing the halls of the Winfield Estate. Lottie didn't care much for it, so she directed most of her energy into bothering Louis. When he had returned home from school, Lottie had been glued to his hip. When he wasn't in his room, Lottie would follow him around the grounds, watch him fly in circles on his broom, help him prepare supper. She would typically favor silence during these little visits, but occasionally a question would slip past her lips and he would answer with a fraying lilt of annoyance in his tone. Lottie did not realize it at the time, likely on account of her being five, but this was only making Louis even more prone to long days locked in his room. Unfortunately, Lottie's empathy was still in the development stage, as well as her critical thinking skills. It had been a month since the return of her two older siblings when the younger found her sitting on the floor outside of Louis's bedroom, flipping through a large picture book. Anadil leaned against the wall, crossing her arms. "Lottie," she said, that know-it-all edge to her tone, "Why do you want to be like Louis so badly?" It was so painfully on the nose that Lottie furrowed her brows and slammed her book closed, letting it slide (gently) to the floor. "I don't want to be like Louis." Anadil laughed, shaking her head. "My lovely Lottie, of course you do." She gently lowered down onto the floor until she was sitting across from Lottie, legs folded beneath her and a playful expression on her pale face. "What is it about him? You know, I can fly a broom just as well-" "No way you can! He's first-string seeker, he-" "Lottie," Anadil held up her hand, silencing the girl across from her. "You don't even know what a seeker does." Lottie opened her mouth, then closed it. Point taken. She took a brief pause to ponder that before searching for a rebuttal, gnawing at her lip slowly. Abruptly, Anadil's hand shot out and grabbed Lottie by the cheeks, pinching her face and making her lips jut out like a fish. "If you keep chewing at your lips you're gonna eat them all up." Anadil smirked sharply, feigning a look of innocent confusion. "And then who's gonna kiss Louis's-" The door to Louis's room slammed open, and the boy stepped out with an expression of anger so harsh it sent chills down Lottie's spine. He looked an awful lot like their mother just then, his face twisted in rage that seemed unfit for his soft skin and bright eyes. He held his broom in one hand, his fist curled around it so tightly his knuckles were as white as his hair. "I'm going flying." At this, Lottie stood quickly, her book abandoned on the floor. "Alone." Before either Lottie or Anadil could reply, the boy was already halfway across the hall and stomping down the stairs. Lottie watched him go with a distant look on her face. Disappointment was a heavy weight in her chest. She looked back at Anadil slowly, who had an all-knowing look on her face. She smiled gently, patting Lottie on the shoulder and beginning for the stairs. "Mum left her jewelry case behind. Let's find out if you're a silver or a gold." | xxx |
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Youthful Observations |  |
Last edited by Charlotte Winfield on 27 Nov 2025, 23:26, edited 1 time in total.
| ✦"You better start walking. Love takes miles."✦ STA 8 │ EVA 8 │ STR 6 │ WIS 6 │ ARC 6 │ ACC 7 |
Youthful Observations
Excerpts from Lottie's Childhood
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| xxx | The first time Lottie had ever felt true desire had been when she stumbled upon the portrait "Madame X" in a large book of famous paintings. The Spring heat was slowly transforming from refreshing and full to sticky and overwhelming, burning through the walls of the Winfield Estate and making her covers feel like hot rocks. It wasn't easy to sneak around the house at night, when it seemed all sound had been sucked out of the world and replaced only with the creak of the floorboard under her foot and the click of a doorknob. Luckily, Lottie had been thoroughly taught by a master of disobeying their mother, so she knew exactly which floorboards creaked and how to turn a doorknob just right to avoid the squeak. So, when she got sick of tossing and turning in a puddle of her own sweat, she carefully crawled out of bed and snuck down to the library. The library was her favorite room in the house. Lines of shelves reached up to the high ceiling like stripes of wood filled to the brim with knowledge. Books of all shapes and sizes collected over centuries were stuffed between each slab of wood, worn but treasured. Lottie could spend every day reading a new book and never manage to consume the knowledge in half the inventory of the room. At the very back, a tall window with elegant framing cast pale moonlight onto a wooden table, town lamps sitting conveniently in the middle. She had stumbled across the book, like she did with most, while dragging her finger along the spines and picking out whichever felt the most intriguing. On the cover was a portrait of a woman staring intensely at Lottie, wrapped in an elegant white dress. She had dark hair, like Lottie's. Curiosity quickly caught Lottie by the brain and ran through her fingers, which slowly began to lift the cover up. When she got to the first page, her breath hitched. This was Madame X. She had been so enraptured by the image, glued to the elegant jut of the woman's chin, her sloping nose, her pale skin as it hid below the sharp cut of her dark dress. She was poise, but she was also rebellion. She wore scandal in her flushed eyes, in the tasteful lump of skin where neck met torso met dress. Lottie had felt something so violent and true that she had slammed the book shut and hid it in the farthest crevice of the library, never to be read again. She rushed back up to her room, not caring that the floorboards squeaked and her doorknob jingled loudly under her palm. She flopped into bed, trying to drown out the sound of her pulse throbbing in her mind. This was perhaps the day that she realized there was more to her than what she had been taught, more emotions and values than just obedience and pride. She swore to never go back to that book, to never feel that feeling again. But sometimes, on nights when the house was silent in rest and the only sounds were her racing mind, she would sneak from her room and peel open the book, if only just to stare at the powerful and devilish frame of Madame X. | xxx |
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Youthful Observations | |
| ✦"You better start walking. Love takes miles."✦ STA 8 │ EVA 8 │ STR 6 │ WIS 6 │ ARC 6 │ ACC 7 |
Youthful Observations
Excerpts from Lottie's Childhood
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| xxx | A few months before Lottie had left for Hogwarts, Eugene was born. Lottie knew what it meant when a new Winfield came to be. It had happened with Ethel ten years prior, and then again a year after that. When Ethel was born, Lottie's mother had been overjoyed, not because of the innate joy in childbirth, but because lovely little Ethel had white hair. She looked just like her mother, with piercing blue eyes and skin so fair she could be mistaken for a wax figure. Delphine had watched her grow with intense curiosity, admiring her humanistic tendencies and praising her otherworldly appearance. Lottie had not been a disappointment, necessarily, but she had been a brunette. That was what made Ethel special. Likely, Lottie imagined, it was because of Anadil. Already Anadil was proving to be difficult, and Delphine was looking for perfection. Perfection to her meant a miniature version of herself, and Ethel was a second opportunity at that. And, of course, like all Winfields, when Ethel's hair had grown long enough to be brushed, she received the special privilege of sitting on a bathroom stool and having a comb run through her hair as Delphine complimented ever little part of Ethel that reminded her of herself. Lottie remembered it thoroughly, that burst of great pride that accompanied every word. Francis was not so lucky, as Ethel was still young and impressionable when he was born, so Delphine was still glued to the youngest Winfield girl. Lottie had taken on most of the responsibility for Francis, though the nannies did the bulk of the work and Lottie did the little things, like playing blocks with him and brushing his hair when their mother was busy with Ethel. The two had grown a complicated bond over the years, one built more on necessity than love. By the time Francis could mostly take care of himself, Lottie had moved back on to a wonky balance of isolation and Anadil. And then Anadil was gone, Louis was in Bristol, and Eugene appeared. He was a small, curious boy. He did not cry much, nor did he do much of anything. Delphine had been initially drawn in by his wispy white locks and peculiar green eyes, but quickly grew bored of him as his responses to her doting were few and far between. Ethel was a lost cause by this point, a mesh of vibrant art and uncrushable rebellion. She was another fail, another Anadil. So, of course, Lottie had taken responsibility for her too. She scolded her when she did things she shouldn't, made supper, and complained to their mother when they needed new clothes. Now with Eugene, the nannies were back. The house had regained some of its life, at least what it could with Anadil's absence looming over them all. Eugene had finally begun to cry, and Lottie awoke to the sounds of screeching more mornings than she could count. The middle Winfield did not know what to make of this strange new child. She had forgotten how it felt to see a baby, to stare youth in the eye and feel that sudden wave of fondness and nostalgia. All she could wonder was how Anadil would feel. One night, after the nannies had laid Eugene down for bed and departed to their homes, Lottie had entered the younger boy's room. Delphine and Fabian were gone on respective business trips, Fabian likely going to do some sort of ministry work and Delphine likely tagging along for the thrill. Lottie didn't have to worry about how loud she was being out in the hall, but here in the little boy's room, she was quiet as a church mouse. He slept so soundly, his stubby arms thrown around around him and small body contained by a baby blue onesie. His lips were parted softly in slumber, and Lottie gingerly closed them with her index finger. He looked a lot like Ethel had at that age, pale as the moon with pink little lips and big eyes. Lottie could only recall baby Ethel in flashes of brilliant memories, like soft cooing and warm, soft skin. She missed a time when Ethel wasn't just a little bug in her ear. Abruptly, Eugene's eyes peeled open. He stared owlishly at Lottie, who was suddenly frozen. And then came the sound. Violent, unshakable, a wail so intense it made Lottie's hands fly up to her ears and cover them out of instinct. A Veela's cry was a powerful thing, but Eugene's seemed to surround her. Lottie quickly rushed from the room, slamming the door behind her and muffling the sound. She ran and ran until she was back in her bed, safe under the covers. No, she did not know what to make of the new Winfield at all. | xxx |
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Youthful Observations | |
| ✦"You better start walking. Love takes miles."✦ STA 8 │ EVA 8 │ STR 6 │ WIS 6 │ ARC 6 │ ACC 7 |
Youthful Observations
Excerpts from Lottie's Childhood
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| xxx | The gardens were the pride and joy of the Winfield Estate. Delphine had insisted that they must have a garden to complete her ideal dream home, and Fabian had no idea how to say no the beautiful woman, so they got a garden. Delphine had spent an absurd amount of money filling it to the brim with flowers of all shades and hues, plus an obscenely large fountain in the center. It was a marble Veela, a true Veela, with hair that cascaded down its back and a thin, spindly frame. Lottie used to stare at it for hours, imagining that it was her great-great grandmother. The gardens expanded out from the back of the house, accessible through a large white gate in the backyard. Ivory climbed up the surrounding fence, speckled with beautiful flowers of varying shades. The garden was separated down the middle into two sections: the beautiful, and the magical. The beautiful side was a collection of Delphine's favorite flowers. Rose vines climbed large wooden arches and drooped from the surrounding fence, a variety of colors. Soft purple wisteria crawled along the gates, hanging down around one's head and tickling their cheek. Beds of tulips, orchids, carnations were speckled about the stone path, mixed together like a colorful explosion of petals and stems. Too many times Lottie had reached her hand into the mixture and immediately retracted it upon being stabbed by a loose thorn. She was cautious around the gardens. Caution suspended itself to another level in the magical section. This was where flies came to die, and where little Winfield children came to be eaten up by rabid Fanged Geranium's or pierced by Spiky Bushes. Jimsonweed was scattered long nearly every surface, aside from the poorly trimmed path. Mandrakes sat in their pots and waited impatiently to be uprooted, their screams muffled by mounds of soil. Alihotsy trees dotted the different beds, looming menacingly above passersby. To Lottie, it was a death trap. To Anadil, it was a treasure trove. It was Spring Break for the two eldest Winfields. Lottie was stuffed away at home, as she always was, and Anadil intended to use this to her advantage. The sun had nearly set over the hills when she rapped gently on the doorframe of Lottie's room and peeked her head in. "Merlin, it's a wasteland in here." Putting her hand on her hips, Anadil glanced around like a sailor finding land, squinting comically. When her eyes landed on Lottie, she jolted a bit, as if surprised. "Oh, you're here. Good." Lottie was sitting on her bed, a book slotted neatly between her folded legs. She was wearing a nice white and blue dress, one her mother had gotten her for a gala a few years prior. In an hour, two "very important officials" were arriving for supper, and Lottie was supposed to look her finest for the event. She quite liked the dress, though it was a bit too bright for her pale skin, it made her feel girly and nice. A pair of black mary-janes were slipped over a pair of white tights. Her hair was curled in fine little coils. Scrunching her brows skeptically, Lottie closed the book in her lap and folded her arms. "What do you want?" Anadil held a hand to her heart, a pained expression crossing her face. "Oh, lovely Lottie, not so lovely-" "The Johnsons are going to be here in less than an hour." Lottie stood up, setting her book on the blanket and inching closer to Anadil. She pinched the hem of Anadil's blue flannel, giving her jeans a look of disgust. "You're not seriously wearing this." Anadil smiled that thin, cat-like grin. "Not to the dinner. To the garden." The line between Lottie's brows grew thicker, before her eyes widened in understanding. She shook her head vigorously, backing up. "No, no way-" "Too late, lovely Lottie!" Anadil caught Lottie around her thin arm and pulled her through the doorway. With their parents busying themselves with preparations, Anadil didn't have to worry about being inconspicuous as she dragged Lottie down the staircase, through the back corridor, and outside to the wide expanse of gardens. She locked the gate behind them, before motioning to the diverse array of plants at their disposal. Lottie felt like she was standing on a landmine. Any wrong step would tatter her favorite dress, and her mother's fury would be hell on earth. She was suddenly very, very scared. Anadil, on the other hand, didn't seem to have a care in the world. She immediately made her way towards the magical plants, running her fingers over the fine leaves and tickling the colorful flowers, some of them even laughing in response. Lottie watched from the gate, clutching her skirt fiercly. When Anadil noticed that she was progressing alone, she fixed Lottie with a funny look. "Come on, lady, you don't have a thing to worry about. I study these plants back at school. Like this." She reached out, brushing her fingers over a lovely white flower that reminded Lottie of a lily. "Moly. It counteracts enchantments." Carefully, Lottie stepped forward. She gingerly brushed a finger over one of the petals, a smile tickling her lips. Anadil smiled triumphantly at that, continuing on. She pointed out another little plant, this one kept contained under wooden bars. "Bouncing Bulbs. They go wild unless you have a restraint for the little buggers." Lottie laughed a bit at this, enjoying the way they jolted and pounced in their makeshift enclosure. The two made their way through the garden of magical plants, Anadil naming each of them and stating their purpose with cool enthusiasm, and Lottie growing less and less frightened by the array with each description. It wasn't until the last stretch that the other shoe had to drop. Anadil was going on about some funny incident from her Botany class when Lottie had strewn off the path to examine a small, curious-looking flower. It reminded her of the geraniums from the other side of the garden, so she thought it must have been harmless. She was admiring the pretty color of its leaves when Anadil's voice rang out behind her. "Lottie, wait, those are-" A pair of sharp fangs bit into Lottie's finger and sent pain coursing up her arm. She quickly retracted her hand, but the damage had been done. The force of its grasp had her falling backwards, hitting the ground with a grunt. Glancing down at her arm, Lottie nearly fainted at the sight of red hot blood trickling down her hand and onto her white dress, permanently staining the beautiful cotton. Tears pricked at her eyes, almost more painful than the bite itself. Anadil was at her side in a flash, grabbing her arm gently and holding it up to get a good look at the damage. "Gosh, Lottie, I'm sorry, I didn't even-" "It's fine," Lottie choked out, standing quickly and biting her lip to keep back her frustration. She brushed as much of the mud off of her as she could, before beginning the trudge back up to the house. Anadil called after her the whole way, but Lottie didn't turn around. Anadil didn't catch up until Lottie made it to the washroom, her uninjured hand searching through the cabinets for bandages. She didn't spare Anadil a glance as she entered, but silently ceded her search to the girl as she peeled open the mirror cabinet and plucked out a roll of bandages and rubbing alcohol. Lottie sat on the toilet seat, and Anadil began working away at her hand. The silence pressed on as Anadil dressed Lottie's finger, only occasionally disrupted by a soft gasp or wince when the alcohol entered her wound and stung. When Anadil was done, she pressed a soft kiss to the bandage and whispered something in Veela. "I'm sorry, Lottie. I mean it." Lottie glanced down at her sister just then, at her pitiful expression. She gnawed at her bottom lip, before flopping down into Anadil's arms. The older girl startled, but quickly melted into the hug, wrapping her arm's around Lottie's smaller frame and sighing. | xxx |
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Youthful Observations | |
| ✦"You better start walking. Love takes miles."✦ STA 8 │ EVA 8 │ STR 6 │ WIS 6 │ ARC 6 │ ACC 7 |
Youthful Observations
Excerpts from Lottie's Childhood
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| xxx | The day Anadil left had been a beautiful one. Sunlight spilled from a bright blue sky, painting the distant fields a brilliant shade of green and making the grounds look somewhat alive again. The willow trees in the backyard swayed softly in an unseen breeze, just enough to be fresh but not enough to chill. Birds sang overhead like an untrained choir, their voices sailing through the sky and right through Lottie's window. It was morning, but she had not yet left her room. Because if she did, it would all be true. Lottie knew Anadil would not be there when she emerged, because she had told her. The day prior had been a whirlwind of furious emotions echoing through the house, her mother's cries of outrage and her sister's loose defenses slowly transforming into adamant denial, and then, for the first time ever, true, vocalized hatred. Lottie had feared that Anadil would be crucified right then and there for her rebellion, but she was instead provided an ultimatum. Either she burn all her muggle screenplays, playbills, faded tapes and stolen DVDs, or she leave and never return. That night, as Lottie had laid in bed staring at the ceiling and trying to imagine a life without her eldest sister, a soft knock pulled her from her thoughts. She had crept over to the door and pulled it open cautiously, only to be nearly knocked over by a ferocious hug from Anadil. She had stood there for a few seconds, dumbstruck, waiting for some kind of explanation other than the most obvious one that had been bouncing around her head for a long time now. And then, hesitantly, she had hugged her sister back. "Oh, my lovely Lottie," Anadil had whispered into Lottie's hair, a hand gently caressing the back of her head. "I'd say I wish I could stay, but I don't. I've never been more ready to leave." And that had been that. The next morning Lottie had awoken to the sunrise and stayed in her bed, staring out at the distant clouds and waiting for it all to be a dream. She knew, deep down, that it was her fault for getting attached. She always knew that Anadil was too much for this life, that eventually she would overflow and spill, just to drip off somewhere else and leave Lottie to rot. There were a million pitiful things that she could tell herself, but after each one bubbled to the surface she had to remind herself that life would keep going. The world did not begin and end with Anadil Winfield, though it did feel like the end to something for lovely Lottie. Time stood still in those five hours that Lottie had laid in bed. A million years had passed, a million silences mixed with the chirping of invisible birds and the buzz of unseen bees. Lottie wondered where Anadil was now, if she was boarding some muggle train off to London or joining a band or getting a tattoo or dead in a ditch somewhere in London with a tattoo and a guitar case. She wondered if Ethel knew, or Louis. She wondered if Eugene would ever get to meet his eldest sister. It was half-past noon when Lottie had finally found it in her to rise. She dressed slowly, creakily, her feet barely making it off the ground to slip on a pair of pants and her arms struggling to lift a sweater over her head. By the time she was out of her room, it was one o'clock. She was unsurprised to find the house mostly empty. The hall was barren, aside from a pair of Ethel's dirty socks and a page of crumpled sheet music. Each staircase creaked under Lottie's slow weight, the ticking of a relentless clock. When she finally made it downstairs, she nearly jumped out of her skin upon coming face-to-face with her mother. Delphine Winfield was beautiful, no doubt about it, but she was also terrifying. She held a constant expression of unbridled intensity, a psychotic cat waiting to pounce. She dressed like an empress, elaborate and shiny and fresh. Her presence was enough to make Lottie spiral, so needless to say she liked to keep her distance. "Charlotte," Delphine greeted, her voice startling Lottie a bit. It was soft, careful, entirely unlike Delphine. When she gently placed a hand on Lottie's shoulder to smooth out her sweater, it was light as a feather. "Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?" Lottie nodded, because of course she had. Picking out her dresses, brushing her hair, fixing a slight imperfection. It was all Delphine knew to say to her children, if only because it was compliments to herself. Pink lips, just like their mother. Pale skin, just like their mother. Short fuse, just like their mother. Delphine didn't spare any more time on the middle Winfield, instead walking past her and up the stairs as if the interaction had just been a little blip in the schedule. Lottie watched her go, swallowing thickly. When she turned towards the corridor, her breath hitched. Any trace of Anadil Winfield had disappeared. Every family portrait now only held six individuals, and a blank space where Anadil once was. It was supposed to be that way, awkward, slightly off, because Delphine wanted to remind each of her children that imperfection was rebellion. There would forever be a gaping hole where Anadil once stood, because she had chosen that path. And life would continue on without her, whether Lottie wanted it to or not. | xxx |
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Youthful Observations | |
Last edited by Charlotte Winfield on 7 Jan 2026, 17:52, edited 1 time in total.
| ✦"You better start walking. Love takes miles."✦ STA 8 │ EVA 8 │ STR 6 │ WIS 6 │ ARC 6 │ ACC 7 |
Youthful Observations
Excerpts from Lottie's Childhood
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| xxx | When Anadil had left, Lottie thought that was it. Delphine had silently made it clear that any children who held contact with the eldest Winfield daughter would wind up in the same boat as her, though Lottie hadn’t known how to process that that meant the end. Time would keep ticking, and Lottie would keep living, and somewhere else in the world, so would Anadil. Without Lottie. It had provided Lottie with a lot of time for reflection. She had mulled over the years, examining each small interaction as if something in there could explain to her why Anadil had been so confident in leaving. Would she have stayed if Lottie had been more bold? If she had played along with her wild schemes? If she had complained less? Lottie didn’t blame herself for Anadil leaving, but she couldn’t help but feel as though, if something had been different, perhaps Anadil would have reconsidered abandoning her little sister. The house was different after that fateful summer day. Delphine was more present, though not in a good way. She was painfully overbearing, keeping a close eye on both her children and the public. Reputation mattered now more than ever to her, and those last months leading up to the school year were a blur of parties, dinners, and the laughter of a thousand rich wizards. Lottie had stayed in her room for most of those days, and her mother did not complain. Lottie had grown strange, odd in a way that couldn’t be pinned just by looking at her. Ethel noticed, of course, and made it everyone’s business. Francis had always been strange, so he didn’t care all that much. The two had taken to spending evenings in Lottie’s room when the parties got too crowded, and Lottie had felt some bit of responsibility to allow them that safety. "Good god, you need to put some posters up in here or something." Ethel sat against the wall on Lottie's bed, chewing on crackers and littering crumbs all over the sheets, despite Lottie's very adamant complaints. Lottie's room wasn't the largest in the house, but it was certainly the most eclectic. Rather than decorations, Lottie had things. Trinkets, slips of paper, cut out pictures from her favorite books that weren't too obviously muggle-sourced. Her walls were the same as when she was a little one, floral wallpaper with clusters of her ancestors' portraits in elaborate frames. She rarely used the overhead light, favoring the warmth of her bedside lamp. She was currently sitting at her desk drawer, re-reading her Hogwarts letter. Shooting Ethel an annoyed look, she replied, "Good Merlin, and at least my room doesn't look like a Picasso gallery." "Who the hell is Picasso-" "Ethel, you can't say that word!" "What, Picasso? You just said it." Lottie looked away, reeling in her anger before it exploded all over the room. Ethel was not like Anadil, who seemed to always be aware when she was annoying others and could control it with great ease. Ethel seemed to know when she was annoying others, but she also had a tendency to annoy without intention. Lottie found it unbearable. Francis was laying on his stomach and toying around with a few slips of paper, folding the edges over and turning them into unique shapes like butterflies and cubes. Lottie watched with vague interest, her cheek resting in her palm. The night had been long, and sleep tugged at her eyelids like the gentle beckoning of a mother. She had nearly passed out just then before Francis's soft voice alerted her back to present. "When is Anadil coming back?" Lottie felt her heart pick up a bit, a heaviness overwhelming her. Suddenly, all that grief came flooding back into her. The morning after she left, the bitter emptiness that had consumed the Winfield Estate, portraits with empty space that would never be filled. All she could feel was a deep sadness as she stared into Francis's eyes, gnawing at her bottom lip and trying to find the words. Ethel beat her to it. "Anadil's not coming back, stupid. Mum kicked her out. Kapoot." Francis stared at her for a few seconds, before nodding shortly and drawing his gaze back to the shapes in front of him. His fingers didn't move, though, just lay still in front of him. He kept staring at the ground, and Lottie's concern grew. If she were Anadil, perhaps she would have stood up and clapped her hands, come up with some unique and risky idea that would surely end in destruction, and somehow convince the both of them to join her for the thrill of it. Anadil would have spoken in her wise, sarcastic way that could charm even the most reluctant of people. But Lottie was not Anadil, much to her siblings misfortune. Ethel looked at her for a brief moment, a studying expression glinting beneath her narrowed eyes. She was waiting for something that Lottie could not give. When the silence pressed on, Ethel exhaled loudly and began examining her nail beds Lottie spun back around to her desk, but she was too tired to read. Instead, she glanced out the window in front of her, watching the darkening sky begin to reveal tiny stars. She imagined that Ethel was looking up at the stars as well, laying on her back in some campsite or staring out the window of a cozy Scottish inn. That was comfort enough, the knowledge that at least the two distant siblings could share the stars. When her eyes finally gave out on her and she began to drift into a light slumber, she dreamt of home. Not as it was now, but as it had once been. It was only a week after that night that she received her first letter from Anadil. | xxx |
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Youthful Observations | |
| ✦"You better start walking. Love takes miles."✦ STA 8 │ EVA 8 │ STR 6 │ WIS 6 │ ARC 6 │ ACC 7 |
Youthful Observations
Excerpts from Lottie's Childhood
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| xxx | When Lottie was much younger, she had actually spent quite a lot of time around Francis. Their distance now was a bit disconcerting, though it was likely due to that time they were inseparable. It was quite clear that Francis would not be getting the pampered Winfield treatment after he had been born with brown hair, just like Lottie's. Delphine hadn't cared much for the boy, so it instantly fell on Lottie to fill in those gaps. When she wasn't off with Anadil or fawning over Louis, she was with Francis. Sitting in the library and reading pages from her favorite books, walking with him through the gardens, brushing his hair when it got too messy. Anadil likely should have taken over this responsibility, but she had never been the most empathetic of people, and she seemed partial to her studies. Lottie had determined very early on that she would be to Francis what Anadil was to her. The only issue with this was one she couldn't see very clearly at the ripe age of seven years old, and it was that her and Anadil's bond wasn't a desirable one. It was one built on codependence, two survivors clinging to the other to life. Except that one of the survivors could just up and leave whenever they left like it, without any consequences, and the other had absolutely nothing to save herself with. Still, she tried her very best to make Francis idolize her. Francis was an independent boy. Lottie would teach him something, and then never have to teach it again. He observed the world around him with a clinical eye, overviewing other's experiences and taking note for his own development. As he got older, Lottie realized that there was very little left that she could teach that he hadn't already figured out for himself. Anadil seemed to find this development extremely comical. This is what created the initial divide. This, and one late-night summer talk with Anadil. "Why do you try so hard with Frannie?" Anadil was standing on the back balcony, the one that overlooked the fountain. Warm air flowed in dizzying circles around the girls as they sipped on stolen butterbeer. Lottie had felt all strange and wobbly, and when Anadil asked that, she felt cold with an underlying anxiety she had been keeping deep inside of her. When she turned to look at the girl, she found that Anadil was studying her nail beds with a look of disinterest. Lottie could not lie to her. "I just feel like... I don't know. He needs someone like you." Anadil snorted at that, taking another swig from her drink and swallowing thickly. She had cut her hair short back at Hogwarts, and now she looked like one of those French girls with her bob curling gracefully around her sharp cheekbones. She looked more mature than she had a year ago, and that was a bit strange to Lottie. "Nobody needs someone like me," Anadil replied with a laugh, "I'm trouble." This had confused Lottie at first. Her brows furrowed, and her gaze on the rippling grass below turned sharp. Anadil hadn't sounded insecure upon saying it, rather just factual. Yes, of course she was trouble. But that trouble had kept Lottie from going insane under their mother's rule. After a beat, Lottie quietly said, "I needed you. Need you." At that, Anadil slowly drew her eyes up to Lottie's, an unfamiliar expression of pity crossing her face. She smiled, sort of weakly, and snaked out a hand to gently tweak Lottie's hair. "I know you do, Lottie." After that night, Lottie's efforts with Francis weakened. The boy had chosen distance, and Lottie was slowly learning to be okay with that. Still, he concerned her. Francis always bore a look of distant thought, as though he could never quite escape his mind. He didn't spend time with others, and didn't make an effort to engage with his siblings. Long mornings turned into long nights, and Francis wouldn't emerge from his room at all. The distance between Lottie and Francis grew, but with a layer of tension that both of them could sense. Francis knew that at a certain point he had relied on Lottie, and Lottie still sometimes thought he needed someone to rely on. But neither was confident enough to speak up, so they held their peace. | xxx |
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Youthful Observations | |
| ✦"You better start walking. Love takes miles."✦ STA 8 │ EVA 8 │ STR 6 │ WIS 6 │ ARC 6 │ ACC 7 |
Youthful Observations
Excerpts from Lottie's Childhood
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| xxx | The first time Delphine Winfield had brushed Lottie's hair, she had been two years old. Ethel had just been born, though she was a whiny baby and an annoyance to be around at the time, so Lottie still had claim over "favorite." She was turning three in only a few weeks, and though there would be no great celebration, Delphine detailed to her all the amazing facets of ageing. People would take her more seriously, she could wear more fashionable clothes, and she was even closer to attending Hogwarts. Delphine had come into her nursery a little after nine-o'clock and ushered her off to the bathroom, closing the door behind her and propping the little Winfield up on a stool. Delphine had combed her long, spindly hands through Lottie's hair. Her nails scratched at Lottie's scalp a bit, but she didn't want to complain in fear of her mother getting offended and leaving. So she had withstood the pain until Delphine pulled out a small comb, collecting Lottie's soft brown locks and carefully running them through the brush. "You are so lovely, Charlotte," she stated softly, looking at Lottie through the bathroom mirror with a studying gaze, "Your skin is so fair. You mustn't spend too much time in the sun, yes?" Despite her English and Veela roots, Delphine had a bit of Scottish in the sharp curve of her cheekbones and the tint of her skin. Lottie knew very little about her Scottish grandfather, other then that he was not a good man and Evangeline had not intended for their bond to escalate. Delphine had mentioned it once or twice in a flurry of anger, something about the greed of men and trickery. It was odd to Lottie, because if Delphine had not been born, then neither would any of her children, but Lottie didn't really have the memory capacity at two years old to really think deeply about it. "You have eyes like your father. It's alright, as they are shaped like mine." Delphine ran her nail along Lottie's under-eye to elucidate, outlining the high curve of her lashes and the depth of her iris. "It's a shame you got his hair as well." Delphine's compliments were both soothing and cutting. All were about Lottie's looks, most were about her beauty, and only a few were about her faults. Most of her shortcomings lay in her similarity to her father, though Delphine found ways to quickly fix her words to somehow relate them to one of her own features. From Lottie's growing understanding, things that were beautiful looked like Delphine, and things that were not looked like Fabian. She didn't think her father was particularly ugly-looking, but he was not Veela, so Lottie understood that he was imperfect. Eventually, Delphine began talking about Evangeline. She was not yet deceased, but she would be very soon. Delphine detailed her childhood, traveling alongside her lovely full-Veela mother and meeting all kinds of strange people. She detailed her mother's selfishness with disdain, but eventually folded to detailing her beauty. With a soft sigh, Lottie imagined that she had been born to Evangeline. Surely then she would have gotten white hair, like her siblings and mother. She would have been even more beautiful. Lottie didn't know how long they sat there, Delphine slowly, obsessively combing the brush through Lottie's hair and Lottie hiding her wince whenever it caught on a tangle or poked her scalp painfully. When Delphine had finally grown bored, she stared at Lottie for a few seconds in the mirror, then turned and left without a word. Lottie stayed there on the stool for a long while, perhaps hoping that Delphine would come back. She never did, though, and eventually Lottie climbed down off the stool and stumbled out the door. When she made it out into the corridor, she was stopped by Anadil. "Where on earth have you been?" Anadil asked, kneeling down to examine the little Winfield girl. Lottie pointed to the bathroom door. "With mother." Anadil looked up at the door, then back at Lottie. Her expression changed suddenly, almost pained in understanding. She ran a hand through Lottie's soft hair and swallowed thickly, before pulling her into a tight hug. Lottie was not used to the feeling of being squeeze so tightly and securely, but she melted into the touch almost immediately. She nuzzled her head into Anadil's neck and waited until the older girl's shoulders stopped shaking and grip loosened. When she pulled away, Anadil looked strangely sad. Lottie did not know why. "She does that sometimes," Anadil explained, as if that provided any real context. Eventually, Anadil found her footing and stood up. She gently grabbed ahold of Lottie's hand and led her down the hallway, and the two continued like that until they were far from the washroom. | xxx |
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Youthful Observations | |
| ✦"You better start walking. Love takes miles."✦ STA 8 │ EVA 8 │ STR 6 │ WIS 6 │ ARC 6 │ ACC 7 |
Youthful Observations
Excerpts from Lottie's Childhood
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| xxx | Lottie did not believe in a god. There was no version of the world in which she could imagine a plausible insertion of one. She had tried to imagine it a million times, the existence of higher power, higher than that of wizardry and even muggle creation, yet she could not. She believed, perhaps, in the existence of a soul. She knew she had a soul, because there was no one else in the world quite like her. Her heart pounded with a bleeding passion so unique to her own self that it seemed impossible to be disconnected from an innermost part of her mind. When she really did think about it, though, she often wound up thinking of her mother. Her mother was a god, in a way. She could make people do things, make them feel things, change the course of a life just through the flick of her hand or the glimmer in her gaze. Men wrote poems about her and sent them through letter. Lottie knew this because Delphine would take every single one of those letters and file them away in her desk drawer. On quiet nights, Lottie would read them, trace her fingers over the delectably rich words and rhymes and metaphors that made her heart clench in her chest. Delphine could make art without having to lift a finger. She could just look at a man, and he would pour the rest of his life into winning her favor. Lottie imagined that was a godly thing. On top of that, she had given life. That was quite godly as well. When Lottie was very little, she believed that all families were as large as hers. It was quite startling when she discovered that some families would be made of only three, or two, or sometimes just one. Delphine had taken the years to procure six shining young children, each with their own basket of peculiarities. It was perhaps this task that had sparked Lottie's consideration that her mother may in fact be a closest thing to a god. Delphine had once detailed to Lottie how it felt being pregnant with her. She had stated the pain, the sickness, the feeling of hopeless anger as she fought against the rush of terror and heartache. It was the most vulnerable she had ever been with Lottie. "And when I finally laid my hands on you, I felt your soft brown hair between my fingertips," Delphine had said in her honey-smooth voice as she gently raked a brush through Lottie's hair. With every stroke, the brush dug deeper into Lottie's sensitive scalp. "And I cried. I think I cried more than you did. All that work, for absolutely nothing." Lottie knew her mother was not calling her worthless. She knew that her mother was not good with tone, that sometimes she said things she didn't mean. But when Delphine finally grown bored of the brush and trailed away to her study, Lottie had stood in front of the mirror and cried her eyes out. She had stared at herself as she did it, the violent streak of warm tears streaming down her pink cheeks, disappearing beneath her chin. It occurred to her quite suddenly that this was another part of her mother's power. She could give, and she could take. Inspire and diminish. She existed as a balance between hate and love. Lottie had stopped crying after that, and that feeling of bitter hurt had transformed into something akin to reverence. There was a great fascination Lottie harbored towards this strange gift of her mother's, and it was perhaps the closest thing she had to truly liking her mother. It was quite possible for a god to be cruel. Delphine was a living example of this. | xxx |
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Youthful Observations | |
| ✦"You better start walking. Love takes miles."✦ STA 8 │ EVA 8 │ STR 6 │ WIS 6 │ ARC 6 │ ACC 7 |