The Tensile Strength of Gossamer Pv Locked

A return to Hogwarts did not leave Lestrange as dissociative as in years past. Where the creeping darkness made its home as a plague to all thought. Allowing fear and anger at his mind's controls, leaving Thomas to oft glance over his shoulder at the wandering eyes of peers, or perhaps it was just a tree. The fact remains that the boy's mind has remained his worst enemy, far superior to the coven deals, or his father's absence.

Not that these respective woes did not have their place. Yet this year, real resolutions have arrived for the boy. Having finally put to bed the questions surrounding his father's past. News of the man's life left his disposition with Auntie and the gang resolute. Having finally removed himself from the association in his mind. Though the ripples of their impact would still be felt from time to time. Needing only to look into the mirror, or glance upon the trident shaped scar along his arm.

Another healthy dose came in those resilient sapphire eyes. A true fighter, a girl shed from his corner out of foolishness. Loyalty unmatched aside from @Bridget Collins, whose presence would still provide a rare smile from the boy. Though he was in no place to seek them out after his display of loyalty for Marion Davenport, while Bridget and Santario were left to fend for themselves as the elusive hag disappeared behind the wood line.

If one consolation , it was that Thomas was right all along. Having targeted Marion for years, sensing her nature the day she readily concealed her intentions on the owlery. The fellow students may have questioned his proposition to threaten a tumble from the owlery window that day, but they would not do so now.

Another healthy acceptance for Lestrange was his realization that he was ultimately powerless. A pawn in someone else's grand scheme, a mere waste of space. Marion, Auntie, the wandering man in the Groundskeeper Cabin, they all had little thought of Thomas Lestrange. It was time the boy returned the favor.

Returning to the present, those sapphire eyes awakened the senses of Lestrange. An otherwise cool fall evening offered a crisp sharp wind as his eyes fell upon her. Leaves drifting through the air of the courtyard with a heavy gust of wind that left the boy's healthy brunette mop wavering atop his head. Though when he offered a warm nod to his old friend, he found her eyes swiftly eluding his gaze.

Thomas knew Santario better than anyone. Her drive and disposition, the loyalty she has for her friends, and the relentless nature for her enemies. Yet not an ounce of anger stained her visage in this momentary exchange, instead a look of...shame. Likely for who Thomas has now become, falling far behind his peers in education. A broken, unstable boy that would readily bait a hag. Reckless, inconsiderate, foolish.

Yet he could not allow her to leave without a word, a moment of accountability that she so dearly deserved. "I thought we were done running." Speaking just loud enough for her to hear, he'd await her gaze if she managed to look. A simple nod with a slight curve of his lips upward to indicate the absence of resentment. An old friend that needed nothing more than to reconcile the gossamer bonds between.

Reducio

Miss Martin,

I return your sentiments and do hope you're well. I assure you, your concern for Thomas is well received. I myself would have discouraged his return if I had the opportunity. I have contacted your Head of House with this very request, in hopes he can return home and continue his healing process. As for what truly ails him, I am not sure you are aware. You deserve to know. A few months prior, he has learned that his father is alive and well, having started a family east of our home in New Romney, moving on from me and Thomas before he could walk. I think he needs you now more than he may realize, please do not allow his actions to change your understanding of him. I am at fault for his state, as I hid this from him until only recently. I'm sure he's mentioned his father to you before. The silver lining is his father has arranged an understanding with his wife, opening the door to Thomas if he wills it so. It's important he returns home as soon as possible. I know you mean more to him than anyone. He will come and go again, and your place at his side is everything. Thank you, Miss Martin.

With Love,

Adalynn Lestrange

@Santario Martin

Santario had not been able to open the return owl from Thomas’s mother until later in the school year; however, his disappearance had told her everything she needed to know at the time. He was gone, so he would get better, but more importantly, he was somewhere she could not harm him. She could not allow him to take the same risks she had allowed the others to take on her behalf. The hierarchy of people important in her life was not something that would make sense to others. In fact, some would even be offended. No one else had to know. It was a secret between Santario and Adalynn unless, of course, she had told her son. People created so much uncertainty, and assumptions were for more of a step than a jump.

Steps were easy to take as she turned her foot lifted from its place on the ground and gracefully, heel to toe, replaced itself further on the stones, her other foot ready to follow suit. A shift in the air carried his voice to her ears, and at that moment, it was as if the courtyard were empty, silent, nothing but the autumn air playing in the space between them. It would draw her to a stop, and her eyes closed momentarily. It was often this way, one calling after the other in seemingly precise order, him then her. Even as far back as their first meeting, he had called, and she had eventually answered once she realized someone actually saw her. They had been thicker than thieves despite their flaws in keeping things from one another. Promises were broken on her end.

His voice brought back pleasant memories the same way a scent on the wind could remind you of someone bereft. There were no angry or disapproving notes in his voice either he wasn’t, or he did not know he had a reason to be, but there was only one way to find out, and if he had questions, the very least she owed him were the answers she could give.

A hard swallow followed by the opening of her eyes and just enough of a head tilt to put him in her line of sight once more. “Not running.” The French accent always thickening the silvery voice more at the beginning of the year, indicative of her time spent with her grandparents over the summer. “Giving you space, considering…” A slight pause of discomfort, still speaking quietly as if they were the only two that existed in the space. Her eyes flicked away just for a moment before returning to his. “Considering the last time.”

The last time something she had wished was hazy, and yet it was some form of personal torture that the memory was clear as a bell. She remembered looking at him, ready to tear him apart. The hatred she felt for his very existence at that moment had her imagining what it would have been like to rip his throat out with her teeth. How warm he would have felt dying under her hands, how delightful it would have smelled. If she was offered a potion that guaranteed memories to be erased for the past year despite consequences, this would have made forgetting worth it. “I am not one to force my presence when I break promises. I am better off on the sidelines where you found me.” He had become lighter, freer, and less burdened. It was almost as if there was a transference from him to her.

Many things had changed since then, not just the darkness that seemed to shroud her. She looked almost as healthy as she should be compared to the brittle shell he would have seen last time, but she had also grown. Standing at five feet and seven inches, Santario had blossomed over summer to a height she would remain for the rest of her life. Yet, she was not lanky, nor did she seem unproportioned. The girl had adapted to the change like she did everything else, with the grace of a lady.

A contradictory statement from Thomas, but at least he was aware. The moment he stepped foot back into the vicinity of the castle, he followed the path of the shadows. To return and escape simultaneously was impossible, yet his resilient attempts to do so would not be shattered from opposition. Such as another meeting with Davenport, or Martin. Or a notion of accountability for placing his friends and others in the way of harm. After all, he did not even know if Bridget survived that day the spiders submerged her resilient frame.

The reasons for hiding were many, coming down to shame. A shared thread between him and Santario, it would appear. Having taken it upon themselves to be the rock for each other, only to shatter against stormy shores, washing away with each wave from those that would oppose. Unity tried and tested from the silent grasp of resentment...for each other, or for themselves? It did not matter.

"It's appreciated." Space was necessary for healing, that time of reflection provides perspective. Life was perspective after all, our simple and heavy choices amount to feeling and sight. A dangerous game to allow emotions to lead the way, and a primary reason for the interrupted path. Altering the courses of Thomas and Santario, the directions they walk no longer align.

Yet as Santario would halt in place, the air allowing the boy's slightly deeper voice to carry. A wind of resistance provided, a proposed alteration of the course set before them. One could say they each had a choice, but they did not.
The path to healing came in an offering of accountability, separating the you you you's, and replacing them with the I's. To separate the blame for what happened into equal parts, with each claiming their own. Thomas was fortunate to have Santario initiating this trend.

“I am not one to force my presence when I break promises. I am better off on the sidelines where you found me.”

"Perhaps you are," Thomas started, his cheek slightly twitching as his lips curled up on one side, a common look of indecision. He'd begin his approach in her direction, remaining well to the outskirts of the stone wall exterior of the courtyard. "Perhaps I do too." Belong on the sidelines, that is. Having demonstrated a series of failure, placing himself and others in harms way when he attempted to lead a group against a crone.

"I don't know how to say what I want, or should say to you, Santario." Pausing, dewey eyes fell upon the dampened shards of grass below, an announcement of accountability was not so easy for the boy. Yet if anyone deserved to hear it, she was the one. Burying the plague riddling his icy blue eyes, the boy inhaled heavily, huffing to mask a release of emotions. "Whether on the sidelines, or in the fire, I don't think you should walk alone."

@Santario Martin

Thomas offered her a notion of his appreciation for the space she forced on him. It was not necessarily the response she had expected, but perhaps, it had been what they both needed to start healing. Granted, she wasn’t so sure she had even begun healing anymore. Santario wrapped her arms around her abdomen as if trying to hold everything inside to contradict the feeling of being splayed open on an operating table. There were few moments where she felt genuinely vulnerable, but most of them usually involved the same brunette mop and icy blue eyes.

An agreeing acknowledgment of her self-proposed placement in the world on the sidelines. Walking in and out of the shadows, emerging only when necessary. Woe be to the person who catches a glimpse and dares follow her back into the darkness. Unless, of course, they were already there themselves, to begin with. His following words would remind her that he had always been there; they just happened to meet one another in a fleeting moment outside of it.

As Thomas brought himself closer, she realized instead of looking up at him, she was looking more downward, and for an instant, she felt even more self-conscience than she previously did. His next words puzzled her, even causing a pang of guilt to shoot through her like an electric spark starting in her side and branching out through her veins. When he looked down, she realized he must feel the same anguish she did, and yet, she still didn’t know if he would share the same way once he knew… A sigh created a visible puff that her eyes momentarily followed before he spoke again. The words that came out drew her eyes back toward him, yet while they were what she wanted to hear, she still felt surprised.

Emotion rolled through her with more turmoil than the slug ever did. In the end, she knew the slug’s intentions, but what were the intentions of her emotions, no, her guilt. A hand slid from her abdomen and reached out to him, hesitating just for a moment before gently resting on his shoulder if he should let her. Neither of them had ever seemed too fond of touching people, including one another. “You owe me nothing.” A managed whisper, a voice betraying more than she wanted it to before she would take a few steps backward, withdrawing her hand from him if he had allowed it. She would do this to take a seat in one of the archways, but more importantly, she put him above her. Conceding power to him in the struggle they always went through during tense moments, only this time, she willingly gave up hers.

Her eyes dropped to her hands, fingers openly fidgeting as she picked at the skin on the side of her nails. The old scars around her knuckles were still old, which meant she was at least coping better than she used to. “I wrote to your mother and am the reason you were pulled from school again. I-” Her voice faltered, and her hands clenched into tight fists. “I-..” Another crack in her voice as her mouth formed a thin straight line, her jaw set, and her breathing becoming more erratic as she tried but ultimately failed to stop the tears that streamed down her cheeks leaving little reddening trails from the bitter air.

“I knew I could not protect you any longer. I could not even protect myself. I was already changing. I had to lie to save you.” In one breath, the words tumbled into a confession of more than one nature. Words were powerful; they gave things life, and speaking outwardly about changing turned them into something she could deny even less despite her efforts to do precisely that.