Just Start PV Thora Larkston Closed

Thora hadn't at all been looking forward to winter break, really only eager for the brief respite from an exhausting workload it meant. After all, her starting at Hogwarts and subsequent months away from home had put a rift between her and her family members, one that she was afraid could never be mended. It hadn't been evident through the few letters they sent throughout her first year, but her parents' and sister's coolness towards her that first summer had made it plainly obvious. Of course, she was glad to be fortunate enough to still have a family, and one who still somewhat accepted her, who was still willing to take her in, at that, but things just felt- awkward whenever she returned home. Unaccustomed to the quiet life the Larkstons led after the relative chaos of Hogwarts, she would often feel out of place even in the tiny town she'd grown up in.

After that first summer, she'd grown to expect an almost tangible tension hanging in the air like an ever-present cloud, its shadow hanging over the Larkston homestead from the very moment she arrived to the moment she left for another term of school. It wasn't comfortable, but she'd quickly learned that since there was nothing she could do to remedy the situation, it was better just left be. So when Thora had turned up on the doorstep of her childhood home once again, smiling hesitantly, she'd been ready for the awkwardness that met her.

Honestly, it seemed the rest of her family was warming back up to her - family was family, after all - bit by bit, a fact which she couldn't be more grateful for. Though conversations had still felt strained and laughter scarce, no longer was she met with cool exclusion everywhere she turned. Family traditions had been carried out as normal, and the girl had enjoyed herself, finally having learned to block out the strange distance between her and everyone else. Dwelling on what was suboptimal never helped, really, and any precious time away from crushing amounts of homework ought to be treasured.

She'd arrived back at King's Cross with mixed feelings, slightly reluctant to bid her family farewell yet eager to return to Hogwarts, which had long ago become a second home to her. Of course, she didn't miss the danger seemingly brought by simply being in the castle, but she wouldn't give up her magical education - and everything that came with it - for anything. And that wasn't to mention the fact that she couldn't wait to see her friends again; granted, she didn't have many, but even two weeks seemed a little too long to be away from those she had.

Part of her had hoped for an acquaintance of hers to already be on board and located such that she could easily find them, as the introverted girl was somehow craving a little company, but a quick search up and down the aisle had proved fruitless. An empty compartment proved to be far easier to find, thankfully, and she selected one at random, slipping inside and sliding the glass door closed behind her. She lifted her belongings onto the rightmost bench, hopping onto the seat next to them with a wistful glance out the window. Platform nine-and-three-quarters was always a lovely sight for Thora, it having been the very place where she'd really felt as if she'd transitioned from Muggle to witch - and that wasn't to mention its ever-bustling liveliness, which she hated to be in the midst of yet found strangely mesmerizing to watch.

A soft squawk from her owl, half-asleep in the midst of the day, brought her gaze back to her surroundings. Smiling, the girl carefully maneuvered a slender finger through the metal bars that caged the bird in for the trip, carefully stroking the head feathers whose bright orange she couldn't help but let remind her of fire - but far more pleasant, of course. Having quieted the owl, she glanced back up, peering wistfully into the aisle as students bustled by, some harassed and some excited, some walking alone and others making their way down slowly in packs. She recognized a few people, which could only be natural with her having attended Hogwarts for two years now, but most students seemed unfamiliar, simply faces without names.

It probably made for an awkward sight, her staring intently at the stream of students passing by as she sat motionless, the sole passenger in a compartment with only an owl for company, but this wouldn't occur to Thora, what with her oblivion and occasional absolute stupidity when it came to anything social. She just kept on staring, her gaze eventually fixing itself blankly on a spot on the opposite wall. It was most definitely a good thing that she returned to her senses moments later, just in time to spy a familiar trunk accompanied by a familiar face. Previously slack face brightening with a wide smile, she waved Bridget in, sliding the door closed behind her.

As Thora opened her mouth in greeting, Bridget beat her to it, but it wasn't that which had her clamping her mouth shut immediately, hand frozen on the door handle. The door had rumbled as it closed, but that hadn't masked the strangeness of her friend's voice as she entered, nor had it done anything to banish the sense that something was seriously off. "Hiii!" Thora finally would respond, a note of genuine cheeriness somehow still in her voice despite her hesitation to do anything else, still unsure of how to deal with things. The entrance was now sealed, lending them some privacy, and Thora leaned back into her seat, gaze flashing quickly over Bridget's face.

She watched as Bridget settled herself in, the silence somehow ringing louder in her ears than the noise of the train station had. Unusually conscious of the awkwardness pressing in on them on all sides, she bit her lip, glancing down at her crossed ankles for a moment, searching for the right words to say. Despite her desperate efforts, though, nothing of particular meaning would surface. Frustrated, she decided it was probably best to just start simple.

"Also…" she began, gaze flicking to the little grey rat and then to Bridget directly, "You could let Sherlock out- if you want, I mean. Kiwi won't hurt him, I promise. She can be a bit chaotic at times, but I've somehow gotten her to quit reacting to other animals. She probably hates the train too much to care, anyway," Thora finished with a wry smile. It was true, though; the past couple of weeks at the Larkston homestead (and summer vacation before that) had tamed the bird some. Although she still didn't trust the bird enough to let her out of her sight for long, especially with the animals roaming about the farm, Caoimhe hadn't done any damage to their property and had even seemed to mellow out in general. Gone was the owl who would cry out at every disturbance, and though part of Thora missed the younger Kiwi, she was glad she'd calmed somewhat with age.

But as her voice trailed off, another lapse of silence replaced it immediately, the difficulty they were having to converse concerning Thora slightly - after all, they'd been friends for so long. She still couldn't shake the unease she'd felt at Bridget's first - and so far only - words, and even though that felt far more important to address than her rat at the moment (no offense, Sherlock), she still wasn't sure how to begin. Words only seemed to come more slowly as she began to worry about the possibility of Bridget's seemingly faked enthusiasm being resultant of finding Thora on the train - but was that really possible? Was it? It wasn't about her, though. That in mind, she pushed those thoughts aside.

"Hey - everything okay?" A pathetically weak start. "Tell me what's going on," she finally pressed, "and- and let me help?"

@Thora Larkston

Being seated and having her trunk stored away as the train started to move gave this... finality. Whether or not she'd made the wrong choice didn't matter now, she was leaving for Hogwarts. The decision had been made before her father drove her to the train station, of course, and saying goodbye to her father had been the last call. It was only now that the reality really sank in. Whatever happened while she was away was out of her control. The whole thing freaked her out, but she was still at least 70% certain she'd made the right call. She couldn't have stayed home, wallowing in the misery and waiting for something to happen and falling behind in schoolwork.

She shifted from watching the last fleeting glimpses of people out the window, instead glancing to the visible hallway outside their compartment. Seeing people like they were, busy talking and laughing, wasn't much better than the largely cheerful goodbyes from family members. That should have been her, she should have been able to look forward to seeing her friends again. And she kind of was, she was just too drained to show it.

At Thora's assurance Sherlock would be safe outside of his cage, Bridget glanced at her friend's owl. That was probably true, and revisiting her thought process from a minute ago, it seemed she was just being paranoid. Honestly, the thought Caoimhe from inside her cage would be able to deal any lasting damage to Sherlock, especially with the two of them looking on, was pretty ridiculous. Not to mention at this point, Thora might feel bad if she acted like there was something wrong with her owl. Her inability to summon any enthusiasm toward seeing her friend was already making this plenty uncomfortable, no need to add to that. Okay. She reached for the cage's latch, opening the door to let her grey rat scurry out. Seeing how happy it made him to be able to roam the area brought a little bit of a smile to her face. He'd be fine.

The real question was perhaps if she would be. On one hand, she was insistent the answer to that question was a yes. Things were much too busy for her to lose a grip and she'd functioned through plenty of disaster before. But then she remembered what it was like seeing Victor die and she had no clue what she would do if that happened to Matthew. Even the possibility was terrifying, so what would she do if that became her reality? As she'd done countless times the past few days, she decided it was best just not to think about it.

And then Thora asked her if she was okay. In all her internal planning of how she was going to do this, she'd been certain her friend broaching the topic would be easiest. That way she was just answering a question, not finding a way to start. Only, for some reason, this didn't feel easier. She didn't know why, but hearing those words caused this tightening sensation in her chest, her throat, and unbidden, tears welled up. The brunette turned away, trying to blink them back, but it was no use. In none of her plans had she intended to cry; she just wanted to avoid any more of the pathetic feeling.

"Sorry." She wiped at the forming tears with her sleeve. Part of the crying was just from the sheer insanity of all this, the shock of the past few days coupled with less sleep than she would have liked. At the same time, there was something reassuring about Thora's words. They may have had her start crying, but they meant a lot. They meant Thora was willing to deal with whatever clearly unpleasant things Bridget was going through.

She did need to let Thora help. That had been her plan, hadn't it? Find one of her friends and tell them what had happened. Recounting the event wasn't something she wanted to do, exactly. It was only fair to tell Thora, though, especially after she'd burst into tears for no apparent reason. "Um, okay." She sniffled; the tears had at least stopped. "My brother got into a car crash and he's in the hospital. In a coma. And- and I guess I'm pretty freaked out because I'm leaving and we don't know what's going to happen yet."

There, she'd done it. Her eyes were on Sherlock because idly watching his movements was easier than looking anywhere else. It was probably the shortest version of the story she could have told and there was more to it, the fact they'd just made up, her snapping at her father. She also felt bad about making this all about her sad winter break. A stupid thought, of course, since she couldn't have stopped all of it from happening and barely seemed to have control over her reaction. Still, it would have been nice to talk about something happier. Wishful thinking.

"Oh, please don't be," she murmured as Bridget apologized for her sudden springing up of tears, a feeling Thora was honestly all too familiar with herself. Personally, she was very much a crier, however much she'd tried to both hide and break the trait - it was rather embarrassing to cry at often pointless matters, after all. Conversely, though, she'd never known Bridget to be the same; while surely tears did happen at times, they were quite a rarity. And that made the fact that tears were currently streaking down her friend's face slightly concerning, especially given that Bridget hadn't yet provided a reason. That was to be expected, of course, it being rather difficult to speak coherently through tears, but Thora couldn't help but panic.

After all, Bridget hadn't been at all like this prior to the winter break - Thora'd have noticed if that was the case - so something must have happened in the short weeks since they'd last seen each other, since they'd bid each other farewell. Could she have anything to do with this? Had there been something she'd missed, something she'd forgotten to attend, or something she'd left unaddressed? No, that couldn't be the case - although her brain was spinning new questions a mile a minute, absolutely no answers surfaced. Somehow, she couldn't stop freaking out, a storm of thoughts hidden behind a calm façade, and yet she couldn't address her own concerns.

Well, then, that had to mean something else was the matter, something she wasn't aware of and hadn't been a part of. But what was it?

As if Thora'd spoken her thoughts aloud, Bridget promptly began to explain. The story was a brief one, spanning only a few sentences, but it seemed to stretch on for far longer than the seconds it took for it to spill from her friend's mouth. The hesitance Bridget had shown in explaining her predicament promised an unpleasant tale, but what Thora heard rivaled only her worst fears, the worst possible situations she'd dreamed up in the past moments. From the moment the phrase 'car crash' had been spoken, she'd frozen, green eyes widening in horror. But it only got worse; Bridget's brother had wound up in the hospital, a coma having stolen away his consciousness. Oh, this was bad.

Thora barely heard her friend's last sentence, so lost in thought that it seemed floating to her from far away. In a split second, she'd transferred herself into Bridget's shoes - what if it had been her sister? What if it'd been Elizabeth in the hospital, and Thora forced to leave her behind? The very thought sent her stomach roiling and her teeth closing in on her bottom lip; it sounded absolutely horrible and still she knew she couldn't possibly imagine what Bridget was experiencing right now. Freaked out was likely an understatement, but Thora supposed it was still quite accurate.

Still, she was here to help, wasn't she? Disgusted by her brief moment of silence, by the fact that she'd let her thoughts steal her away from such an important moment so easily, she wrenched herself back to the present, swallowing hard. As Bridget's eyes shifted to Sherlock, Thora hopped down from her seat and squished herself onto the bench opposite. "Oh, Bridget," she whispered, throwing an arm around her friend. She'd no idea what to say next, what might make this situation just a little bit better - after all, she was afraid she might wrongly diminish its severity, or at the very least say something terribly wrong.

After a moment of hesitation, she reached into the pocket of her robes - she had a habit of changing into them early. "Chocolate?" she offered, producing a small chocolate bar from its depths. It wasn't exactly just bought, per sé, but she hadn't bought it from Honeydukes too long ago and its shiny red wrapper was still crinkle-free, evidence that the chocolate within was of no lesser quality. After all, chocolate made everything better, somehow, and she needed just a few seconds to formulate her next sentences, however selfish a reason that was.

Whether or not Bridget would choose to accept the chocolate, Thora took a deep breath and brought her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on them. "I- I don't want this to sound cliché, but I'm really, really sorry. I honestly can't really relate, so I hope I don't- incorrectly mitigate anything, I guess, but that sounds absolutely terrible," she paused, "and hey, don't be sorry; it's alright to cry, it's alright to be freaked out about this. I mean, it's absolutely valid, given what's happened to your brother."

"I know you're strong, Bridget, you've been through so much - we all have, at Hogwarts. I don't want to make this seem less severe than it actually is or anything, but you can get through this. Plus, I'm here for you whenever you need, 'kay?" And with that, she fell silent. There wasn't much else to say; she'd temporarily exhausted herself of words, anyway, and repeating herself would probably only make things more awkward. But had she said the right thing? She certainly hoped so, even though there'd always be a lurking doubt that she'd said something terribly wrong thanks to her not exactly being the smoothest when it came to conversation. She'd tried her best, though, so hopefully it would be enough.

@Thora Larkston

What to Thora seemed a too-long stretch of silence following the story was no bother to Bridget. It was hard to judge time as of late; since the phone call came and she saw the change in her mother's expression, everything had been moving overwhelmingly fast or agonizingly slowly. She could hardly blame Thora for pausing, and if the roles were reversed, she'd have no clue what to say or do. What could you do when the problem wasn't something you could fix? Damage control, perhaps. Make sure everything else didn't fall apart with it.

Putting herself out there had been the hard part, just getting the words going, and now that she'd gotten this far there was only awaiting a response, continuing from there. Bridget had no fear Thora would think worse of her for any of this, for the display of weakness. If that was the case, rejection would have come a long time ago. This wasn't their first rodeo, if helping each other through fear, grief, and trauma could be counted as a rodeo. As the other girl would vocalize shortly, this was Hogwarts. They'd all had to deal with more of this than they should have as mere children.

Words were hard. Actions spoke louder. Thora might have been struggling with the former, but the hug, the chocolate? They were perfect, really. Hugs were warm and grounding, something she'd grown to appreciate from friends, and goodness knew she needed one about now. The candy was accepted with a soft, "Thanks." Eating was something to do, a minor distraction, and that wasn't even mentioning the near-magical ability of chocolate to brighten things, if even just a little bit.

Thora went on, apologizing in advance for any insensitivity as she had nothing similar to relate with. That was a good thing. Bridget wouldn't wish this nightmare on anyone, least of all her best friend. The reminder that it was okay to be freaked out was... needed. Letting herself feel the full range of emotions, and especially letting herself show them, was hard, though it was kind of coming out right now whether she wanted it to or not. Hard because it was vulnerable and that wasn't something she particularly liked being. Hard because as bad as this was, she knew there were other kids who had it worse, and that made complaining feel wrong. Maybe even hard because going through this was inconvenient and she didn't have time to cry with all the work that needed to be done. Granted, there probably wasn't a time where this would ever be convenient.

Needless to say, the logic she favored and her feelings were at war and she was pretty sure, at least at the moment, her feelings were winning. But as Thora had said, she would get through this. Her thoughts whispered how. Honestly? She didn't know. Though she did know this was already better than the gloomy atmosphere at home. Here she had friends and plenty to keep her busy. The promise of someone to stand by her. And chocolate. "Want some?" she offered, prepping to break off a row of squares in Thora said yes. It didn't feel right to keep all the delicious chocolate for herself when her friend was next to her with none. And yes, it was a purposeful transition away from the harder topics. She didn't want to dwell on what had happened over break right now and wasn't keen on forcing Thora to struggle for what else to say. She'd already been a huge help.

If Thora accepted part of the treat back, Bridget would allow a few moments of silence to stretch out as they ate. Eventually, she piped up with a hesitant, "So. Um, how was your break? Did you get anything nice for Christmas?" Mere observation told her their breaks weren't mutually disastrous--though, to be fair, hers had actually been pretty great, excluding the last few days. She knew Thora had experienced similar struggles with her family in regards to the discovery she was a witch; how was that going? Hopefully better. That was something Bridget was happy to say had righted itself with hers. No wonder things went wrong again right after.

The silence was truly a strange thing, welcome and yet absolutely not. On one hand, the lack of words following Thora's little spiel, which honestly had been a mess of the best words she could think to offer on the spot, meant there was no rejection. It meant she hadn't said anything wrong; it meant she hadn't accidentally been insensitive nor landed on a touchy subject - well, anything besides the accident itself. But at the same time, she feared she hadn't been clear enough, or perhaps she hadn't truly gotten her point across. And most of all, there was a crippling fear that she hadn't said enough. It was obvious she'd been looping around in circles, groping for the right words to say, so what if she'd only stated the obvious? What if her words had sounded empty? What if she'd brushed past the most important parts, lacking the eloquence to dig deeper?

But at last, the silence was broken. "Oh, sure, thank you," Thora replied, brightening at the prospect of chocolate. Though she attempted to cast her concerns aside, her gut churned slightly as she remained keenly aware that her attempt at comfort had remained unaddressed. It was admittedly a little disappointing, but what was she expecting Bridget to say? Surely what she'd said would only procure an awkward response; even Thora herself could tell there was no simple answer. And of course, she couldn't blame her friend for steering clear from what was obviously a painful topic. It was completely understandable.

Chocolate now in hand, she broke off a square and began to nibble on it, straightening out a jagged edge. Now that she'd thought things through, the silence really wasn't all so terrible. In fact, peaceful was honestly a better way to describe it, two friends sharing a little treat. It was definitely welcome before all the chaos of Hogwarts, anyway, the quiet a stark contrast to the shouting voices and drumming of feet on the floor so familiar and so constant with so many students constantly on the move.

"Break went pretty well for me," she trailed off briefly, feeling almost guilty as the words spilled from her mouth. It was true; her vacation had been blissfully uneventful, her family members had pretty much warmed back up to her and her new reality - well, as much so as she could hope for. As usual, none of them ever really rested, always working and yet constantly cheery. Life at the family homestead would likely be seen as simple by most, but to Thora, it was pleasant, quiet and uncomplicated and unmarred by problems like those constantly present at Hogwarts. As much as she loved the school, it was nice to have time away once in a while.

"There were a lot of things to be done around the farm, honestly, but I still had time to bake and paint and that kind of stuff. Can't say I studied or anything, though, so I guess we'll see how much I've forgotten since last December," she broke into a sheepish smile at this, hoping to further lighten the mood. "And yeah! My sister gave me a set of brush- yeah, brush pens. I haven't seen them around all too much, but she says they're pretty popular in the Muggle world. I mean, I can see why; they're pretty smooth and really fun to work with, even though I did have a spot of trouble since I'm more used to traditional brushes and stuff… anyway,", she drew a breath, realizing that she'd begun to ramble, "How- did you get anything nice?"

Though she did fumble for a moment, Thora was trying to steer clear of any mention of her brother, of the accident, and so attempted to avoid the break as a general topic. Surely it was still all fresh and raw in Bridget's mind, but Thora didn't want to make things more painful for her friend than they already were. She realized they were really only making small talk, trying to skirt the issue, but if that was what it took to bring Bridget's attention elsewhere, Thora was all for it. She only hoped she was helping.