Solo Wayward Second Thoughts Finished

[font=century gothic]WHEN: September 1st, 2020 | Morning
WHERE: London, England | London Station
WHAT: Plagued by the memories of the year previous and the sudden loss of contact with her dearest friend, Evelynn has last-minute second thoughts about returning to school
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The first day of school had finally arrived. To say Evelynn was excited wouldn't be quite right. Despite having largely come to terms with everything that had happened over the previous year, she wasn't quite sure if she was so ready to face it all again. It seemed an impossible ask. Last time, she had managed because she hadn't seen it coming. Like everyone else in her year, she'd arrived with eyes wide with wonder and curiosity, ready to take it all in and tackle the mystery of this new world. To learn everything she could and absorb every bit of knowledge that dared reveal itself to her.

Of course, she'd quickly come to learn that all knowledge comes at a price. Her innocence was stripped away within a month when she came face to face with the traumatizing reality of what happens when creatures of the night lose their control. She'd seen throats torn, poison-induced attempted cannibalism, infiltrations into the student body by hags, conversions of students into living screaming pyres, to name but a few. The worst part about it was that she couldn't bring herself to tell her mother. To do so would surely mean a swift conclusion to any notions of being a witch. Instead, she'd talked it out with a select number of her upperclassmen, and even a few of her professors. The night terrors had settled. Sleep had returned. Over the summer, she had even managed to have days—several days in succession, even—where the memories held themselves at bay, neglecting to infiltrate her waking thoughts.

It was a trick, though. A false sense of security. At home, she could forget. At home, the wizarding world was a fading memory a thousand miles away. If it weren't for the letters she continued to write back and forth with a select few individuals, and the texts and snaps she shared with Woodward on a daily basis, she might even have been able to convince herself that it had all been just a very horrid, very vivid nightmare. But it wasn't. It was her new reality, and one that she would—potentially—be having to face all over again. Last year, it was the worry that magic wasn't actually real and that she would crash headlong into the wall that made her hesitate when facing the brick between platforms 9 and 10. This year, it was the worry of what crouched in wait to greet her on the other side.

Although...did it really matter what lurked in the darkness? She had resolved herself to go back, hadn't she? To do otherwise only served to put herself and her mother at risk with the acceptance that half-trained magic was the most dangerous sort. And now that she knew that there existed a parallel world beyond her own, a world that interacted with and influenced the muggle world much to their ignorance, she couldn't ignore it. For her own sake and that of her mother, she needed to continue her education and hone her skills. There really was no other option but to face all of that which had been the source of her fears and nightmares for the previous year.

But it was more than that. It wasn't just a worry about what crouched in wait to greet her. It was also the hollow dread about that which didn't. Woodward still hadn't replied. It had been two weeks now. Over, actually, if she considered the last time he had replied to her. For a while, the message read notification had still come through; and she had taken comfort in despite her indignant irritation because at least that meant he was well enough to look at his messages. Eventually, however... even that stopped. She wasn't even sure how many messages she had sent him now. At least one daily. They all remained unread. Even the letters she tried to send through Janus eventually returned unsent. It was as though the door had been shut tight and all forms of communication had been cut off. Like she had been cut off. Or like he had never existed in the first place.

"Are you alright, honey?" A hand manifested itself on Evelynn's shoulder, reassurance and uncertainty evident in the light squeeze of its fingers. "You've been standing here staring at that wall for a while now."

The familiar hollow feeling began to return as she stood there staring at what she knew to be the entrance to Platform 9 and 3/4. The feeling like fingers were curling around her throat. Nostrils flared, shoulders rising and falling in increasing frequency as she fought back the tears that pricked painfully at the corners of her eyes. She missed him. There was no denying that. She missed him dearly. He'd been the one friend with whom she had really bonded with from school. The only one with whom she had shared aspects of her private life and home. There were others—Procoppio, Flash, Morgan, the mysterious Captain Kirk—with whom she had connected on some level, but they were... New. Professional. Confusing. Unknown. Woodward was... Well he was Woodward.And now he was...Wayward.

"I'm..." As though it were the crown of her head rather than her shoulder to bear the weight of her mother's concern, Evelynn dipped her chin, gaze dragging to the ground with the motion. "No..."

There was no use lying to her mother. The woman always seemed to be able to pick up when there was something going on. It was like she had some sort of uncanny ability to read minds. In fact, if Evelynn wasn't completely convinced that her mother was absolutely a muggle given her initial reaction to the letter just a little over one year prior, she might have convinced herself that her mother was a gifted legilimens.

"What's troubling you?" Came the simple question.

A simple question, but one that didn't offer any immediate way to circumvent it. In this instance, Evelynn wasn't sure she really wanted to discuss it. Not here in the middle of London Station with so many strangers, and possibly fellow students around. She wasn't sure she'd be able to keep herself collected. A tongue darted out to wet dried lips and she cleared her suddenly parched throat. But when lips parted in an attempt to answer, nothing came to mind. So she only closed them again.

"Is it Woodward?"

How her mother had jumped to that conclusion so easily, Evelynn could only marvel, but she nodded her head nonetheless.

"I noticed that you hadn't been on your phone as much recently," her mother had offered. "For the last two weeks really. You check it frequently, but don't type. It's as though you're waiting for a reply."

Called out, Evelynn could only sniff, inhaling deeply in an attempt to keep herself under control. What she actually managed was a jaggedly muffled sob. Brows pinched in irritation as tears collected at the corners of her eyes. "I don't want to talk about it right now," she concluded, defiantly wiping away her restrained pain with the heel of her hand. "He's read them. He just isn't replying."

Unseen by Evelynn from the angle at which they were smiling, the hint of a somber smile graced her mother's lips. The irony of the definite objection followed immediately be explanation had not been lost on her. "That must be very painful. You two grew very close over the summer and spoke every day. It was nice to see how you lit up to his messages. With how frequently you talked, I can only imagine it must be very difficult for him to have suddenly pulled back." There was a pause in the reply, but when no response was forthcoming from Evelynn, her mother continued.
"But maybe something has happened that he doesn't know how to tell you. If he's been reading his messages, then you know he's alright. Perhaps he just needs some time."

Silence spanned between the two of them for a time. "What if…" Evelynn swallowed again and cleared her throat, sniffing one last time. "What if he's not there?" Her gaze had raised to the wall of brick that stood before her.

"Then he's not there," her mother had answered matter-of-factly. "And perhaps that's what he's been having trouble with telling you. I imagine it would be just as difficult for him. Perhaps more-so. Guilt has a way of piling up and piling up and makes breaking bad news increasingly more difficult the more time passes." A shuffle and a stoop, and suddenly Evelynn felt her head rocked slightly as lips pressed to her cheek. "But you'll be okay. If he reaches out to you again, you can ask him for clarification. If he doesn't, then you mustn't dwell. You can't force someone to be a good friend. And you can only repair what is damaged if both of you are willing to talk. He evidently is not. It's his choice to sever the connection. That's not on you."

"I suppose…" Evelynn couldn't exactly refute what her mother had said, but neither was she entirely convinced. Still, she wasn't exactly in a prime position to dwell on it in this moment, and would sooner compartmentalize that worry and hurt for evaluation at a later time. Elsewhere in the station, a whistle blew, and Evelynn sighed, knowing that her time was running short.

"You'd better get going, honey. Your train will be leaving soon." Another peck and squeeze of the shoulder.

"Aren't you going to come with me?" Evelynn asked, glancing up at her mother for the first time in a while. Her mother had refrained from joining her on the platform during all three of the previous opportunities. But that had been when she was still reticent about the strange new world.

The corner of her mother's mouth twitched along with the lofting of one of her sculpted brows. For a second, it looked like fear or consternation, but the expression shifted seamlessly into a warm smile. "And spoil your image?" A hip nudged against Evelynn's playfully. "You're a Quidditch co-captain now, aren't you? I don't imagine your peers would hold the same respect for your authority if you had your mother hovering around, mn?"

"I suppose so," Evelynn scoffed through her nose, but smiled anyway, appreciative of the sentiment. "Well… I had best be off, then."

"Write to me?" Her mother asked, holding a hand out expectantly.

Evelynn pulled her phone and earbuds from her pocket and dropped them onto the outstretched palm. "Of course, mum."

[font=century gothic]Evelynn pushes her cart forward through the gate to Platform 9 and 3/4[/font]