23 Feb 2020, 04:21
This Too Will Pass
Does the sun feel betrayed by the sky when it rains?
Can the clash of blood and water under fire be contained?
Will we be reborn after the wake when the tide breaks?
--This Too Will Pass, Ward Thomas
She could recall the night perfectly: the creaking sound of the bedposts, the concerned eyes of the portraits, the hesitation at the threshold of the school doors, the calls that didn't work, the cold wind whipping around her dressing gown, the Professor's red eyes, a squid's mournful arm and the sinking disbelief at the notion that a girl might never wake again. But what happened afterwards was a blur. There had been an opportunity to ask questions of the Professor who had rescued them and this was helpful, but it had not provided the closure she didn't know she needed.
The Ball, of course, had traumatized her to no end, but there had been people to discuss it with even if they couldn't completely understand. Lark, Thora, and Gris had all been there, and they could empathize. And, as much as it hadn't felt that way at the time, no one had actually died. The memory of Jorah and Dymph haunted her, but ultimately, they'd made it through. They were here: walking, breathing, studying. But Shauna wasn't. Shauna wasn't doing anything at all, except maybe fertilizing a tree somewhere.
Ruthie didn't know where she was, or even where Shauna had been from to begin with. Sitting here, by the Great Lake, the Ravenclaw wondered if she even knew the other girl at all. Their conversations had never really gotten that personal. It had been an abrasive start, an accident with a Forgetfulness Potion. Even after that, Shauna had a sharp nature that Ruthie didn't particularly like, but over time, she had come to realize that Shauna had good intentions despite her tone. She could always count on her to support her, to turn up to things. But, well, she wouldn't be doing that any more.
Since January, Ruthie had been avoiding the Great Lake in much the same manner as she had avoided the ballroom before that. But it felt so unnatural. Since stepping foot on the Hogwarts grounds, the lake had been where she had felt the most at home. The place where she found peace and comfort was now riddled with a deeply painful memory. It was unfortunate and it had to change. That was why she had trudged out to the lake this afternoon between classes: to restore her former refuge, if that was even possible.
Turning towards the lake, the Ravenclaw felt the saliva build up in the back of her mouth. Resisting the urge to vomit, she swallowed and slowly but steadily wandered closer. Each step seemed to take at least five seconds longer than it would if were taken by any other person. Once she reached the rocky shoreline, she dropped her leather satchel to the side, not caring if her books or quills spilled onto the stones below. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered compared to what had happened in January.
So she just stared out, her eyes focusing on the cool blue water. How could something that brought her so much joy take away a friend? She had, naturally, heard of accidents at sea. There were some magnificent stories in fact, but that's all they were: stories. When you didn't know people, it was easy to just listen and move on. But she knew someone and knew her well, and all she could do was stare.
Stare and be angry. So angry for this accident. Involuntarily, her foot lifted itself up and kicked at the ground hard, spilling some of the gravel and smaller rocks into the water. The sounds of sinking stones provided a distraction as her breathing quickened and she gripped her stomach instinctively. Unsure of what to do, she lowered herself to sit down, gripping her knees tightly. Pulling herself into a kind of ball, she wiped her eyes with the edge of her uniform shirt sleeve. Merlin, she clearly was not over it.
That was part of the point of coming out between classes--she'd given herself a distinct window of time. Otherwise, she might just stay here indefinitely, yelling at the lake for being stupid and cruel. Instead, a single, "Oh, you bloody awful lake," would have to do. She couldn't help feeling betrayed by nature. But if the Ball was any example--and a bad one at that--perhaps the reality was that this too would pass.
For the incomparable @Marla Quinlan
Ruth Iona Greer
Stamina: 6 | Evasion: 4 | Strength: 5 | Wisdom: 9 | Arcane Power: 6 | Accuracy: 6 | Ability: Sixth Sense
Frog Choir President | Ravenclaw Chaser
28 Feb 2020, 00:01
This Too Will Pass
[quote]The night of December 23rd, 2019 replayed in her head over and over like a horrid, broken cassette tape. Her grandfather's hands were heavy with intent as he yanked on her hair, causing the small girl to hit the cold, wooden floor instantly. Her grandmother, Imogen's smirk as she observed the events unfolding before her, enjoying every second of the violence and tension in the room, like the sick woman she was. But most of all, god– Marla felt like passing out thinking about it. Lachlan's cold, emotionless green eyes. Seconds before furrowed under his thick brows and dripping with emotion, and in an instant, all of that was gone. Before that day, she had forgotten that life was temporary, being as young as she was. That decisions mattered. So, she couldn't help but think.
If she hadn't walked in on her brother and her grandparents on that night, would he still be dead? Would Imogen and Phineas Scrivener still be spending the rest of their lives in Azkaban? Would her aunt still be scrambling for jobs of every kind, because all of the family's wealth was gone? If only it were all a dream. If only. She wished there was someone to blame. That there was at least something to go off of with how she was feeling. Of course, the obvious culprits were her grandparents. But she pitied them more than anything. Growing up, the two were forced into hating anything related to muggles and had no chance to think for themselves. At this point, the Gryffindor couldn't view them as people. They were too far gone, with murdering their grandson in cold blood. Pureblood traditions were more of an industry, a show, not a culture of any sort. After all, how did hating people for having muggle parents become a reputable action?
Lost in thought, Marla bore her blank, dull brown eyes in the even murkier lake. It was an extremely odd thing to feel. Words were flooding her brain at a mile a minute, and yet, she felt so restrained. Strangled, almost. Her hands tingled, reliving the sensation of holding her brother's body in her arms as he fell to the floor.
And all of a sudden, she was angry. More furious, more aflame than she'd ever been in her life. How could her grandfather kill Lachlan? And afterward, he left. Not even taking a minute, nor a second, to look back at what he'd done. Phineas and Imogen Scrivener were cowards. The stench poured off of them like the grimiest, nasty residue in the entire world. She didn't know whether to sob or scream, maybe both. A small whimper escaped her lips as she fought back tears to no avail. They began streaming down her face uncontrollably. Marla attempted wiping them away and pretending nothing happened, though they just kept on coming. God, if anyone saw her like this...
"Oh, you bloody awful lake," A Scottish sounding accent, similar to Marla's, cut through the air, thick with sorrow. She swiftly turned in the direction of the voice, simultaneously wiping her eyes. Though they were still red and puffy, maybe it wouldn't be as obvious. Now, right in front of her, was a head of long, wavy blonde hair. She was sitting down and looking off in the same direction as Marla had been. The Gryffindor's face went red and hot. How could she have been so stupid? Then again, the girl seemed to be fighting her own battles, especially if she were screaming at a body of water. She probably didn't have time to deeply analyze Marla's face for any tear marks. God, who would? Marla needed to stop worrying so much about everything– it was really getting quite out of hand.
And while her feet desperately begged for her to walk away, and pretend like this all never happened... Something in Marla Quinlan wouldn't let her leave. Maybe she was just unconsciously being creepy or irrational. Either way, she began to approach the girl as her instincts screamed otherwise. But to hell with it– what was the worst that could happen? She was asked to leave the girl alone? Maybe she needed someone. Being offered help randomly has surprisingly made Marla many friends, and as far as she knew, no foes. And it might be good to just talk it out with somebody, stranger or not.
"What'd the lake do to get you so worked up about?" She spat out before she lost her nerve, making her way a bit closer. It would be strange if she started a conversation from several feet away, after all. "I mean, besides there being loud, annoying sirens and a giant squid in there... She trailed off, finishing the sentence with a shrug in replacement of words. The twelve-year-old prayed to whatever was up there that this wouldn't backfire, but somehow things always ended up awry for poor Marla.
If she hadn't walked in on her brother and her grandparents on that night, would he still be dead? Would Imogen and Phineas Scrivener still be spending the rest of their lives in Azkaban? Would her aunt still be scrambling for jobs of every kind, because all of the family's wealth was gone? If only it were all a dream. If only. She wished there was someone to blame. That there was at least something to go off of with how she was feeling. Of course, the obvious culprits were her grandparents. But she pitied them more than anything. Growing up, the two were forced into hating anything related to muggles and had no chance to think for themselves. At this point, the Gryffindor couldn't view them as people. They were too far gone, with murdering their grandson in cold blood. Pureblood traditions were more of an industry, a show, not a culture of any sort. After all, how did hating people for having muggle parents become a reputable action?
Lost in thought, Marla bore her blank, dull brown eyes in the even murkier lake. It was an extremely odd thing to feel. Words were flooding her brain at a mile a minute, and yet, she felt so restrained. Strangled, almost. Her hands tingled, reliving the sensation of holding her brother's body in her arms as he fell to the floor.
And all of a sudden, she was angry. More furious, more aflame than she'd ever been in her life. How could her grandfather kill Lachlan? And afterward, he left. Not even taking a minute, nor a second, to look back at what he'd done. Phineas and Imogen Scrivener were cowards. The stench poured off of them like the grimiest, nasty residue in the entire world. She didn't know whether to sob or scream, maybe both. A small whimper escaped her lips as she fought back tears to no avail. They began streaming down her face uncontrollably. Marla attempted wiping them away and pretending nothing happened, though they just kept on coming. God, if anyone saw her like this...
"Oh, you bloody awful lake," A Scottish sounding accent, similar to Marla's, cut through the air, thick with sorrow. She swiftly turned in the direction of the voice, simultaneously wiping her eyes. Though they were still red and puffy, maybe it wouldn't be as obvious. Now, right in front of her, was a head of long, wavy blonde hair. She was sitting down and looking off in the same direction as Marla had been. The Gryffindor's face went red and hot. How could she have been so stupid? Then again, the girl seemed to be fighting her own battles, especially if she were screaming at a body of water. She probably didn't have time to deeply analyze Marla's face for any tear marks. God, who would? Marla needed to stop worrying so much about everything– it was really getting quite out of hand.
And while her feet desperately begged for her to walk away, and pretend like this all never happened... Something in Marla Quinlan wouldn't let her leave. Maybe she was just unconsciously being creepy or irrational. Either way, she began to approach the girl as her instincts screamed otherwise. But to hell with it– what was the worst that could happen? She was asked to leave the girl alone? Maybe she needed someone. Being offered help randomly has surprisingly made Marla many friends, and as far as she knew, no foes. And it might be good to just talk it out with somebody, stranger or not.
"What'd the lake do to get you so worked up about?" She spat out before she lost her nerve, making her way a bit closer. It would be strange if she started a conversation from several feet away, after all. "I mean, besides there being loud, annoying sirens and a giant squid in there... She trailed off, finishing the sentence with a shrug in replacement of words. The twelve-year-old prayed to whatever was up there that this wouldn't backfire, but somehow things always ended up awry for poor Marla.
"your loss, baby !!"
stamina 10 | evasion 7 | strength 6 | wisdom 7 | arcpower 6 | accuracy 9
stamina 10 | evasion 7 | strength 6 | wisdom 7 | arcpower 6 | accuracy 9
4 Mar 2020, 15:54
This Too Will Pass
A whimper. A cry. A sound. All these were lost across the void no matter how nearby they might be physically. Ruthie could barely focus on herself, let alone anyone who might be nearby. Gripping her knees tightly, she tried to hang on to any sliver of dignity she might have left. But the dead left little comfort for that; they didn't leave anything at all.
Tears were still streaming down her cheeks when a voice broke her quiet. Trying feebly to wipe her eyes with her shirtsleeve, she blinked to reveal a girl coming towards her. She was small and visibly a younger student, not unlike herself, with ginger hair and a pale complexion, but her cheeks were flush. Her eyes too looked red and strained. Ruthie swallowed as she nodded to acknowledge the girl. She should have known other people came out here.
From her words, Ruthie was trying to make out if the girl was being condensing or just curious, but she was too worked up to tell. At the mention of the squid, her eyelids rolled back over and seemed to clamp down. In her mind, she could still see the tentacles of the beast almost mercifully raising the 11 year old's body out and onto the sand. Everyone seemed to be afraid of the squid and maybe it was terrible, but Ruthie always gave animals a second chance. And there had been a strange kindness with which the squid had returned the girl to shore. After all, she could have just sunk and made a forever home in the sea bed. If that were the case, the girl might not even be missed as she had told Ruthie she was an orphan. But that's not what had happened and she was missed--terribly missed.
"Water is dangerous," she began, "at least that's what they always tell me at home on the harbour." The knew to take the fishmen's words seriously, but she also took it with a grain of salt. For sure, the sea could be as benevolent as it was powerful. Gritting her teeth, she pondered the question of how to tell her companion why she was here, angry. Bursting out like she had at Lark and then Bridget after the Ball didn't seem right. She had a reason to be angry then--people had created damage. But this--this just happened. It was a much quieter kind of grief. "The lake just proved that to be true...it swallowed my friend a few weeks ago..." Her voice trailed off. Perhaps her language was peculiar, but it was the best way the 11 year old could explain what had happened.
And with that, she wrapped her fingers tightly around a nearby rock. It was large with silver streaks and sharp edges. Her index finger traced the surface as if looking for a way to injury itself--for some reciprocity, even a small one, for the gapping hole of a tragedy that now lived in her memory. "And now she's gone," the blonde added as the tears started again. Dissatisfied with the rock and too impatient to find another, she drew her arm back, held it back that for a moment, and then threw it forward, letting the rock spin out towards the water. It didn't skip or ripple, but rather sunk fast and hard beneath the surface along with a friendship that might never know what it might have become.
With a heavy breath, she felt her body rise and fall as the wind crept up behind them. She looked back at the girl. She didn't look very good. Merlin knew what was wrong with her, but Ruthie wasn't going to force another to talk. The Ball had taught her how futile that was. Instead, she reached down and found another good sized rock. Picking it up, she offered it to her companion, "Here. Throw it. It helps." She tried to smile, but with the way her guilt was playing around with her memory, it probably looked more like a grimace. It was affirmative at best, but despite this, it was genuine if only because she wanted someone who could understand her pain. So far, it didn't seem like anyone did.
For @Marla Quinlan
Ruth Iona Greer
Stamina: 6 | Evasion: 4 | Strength: 5 | Wisdom: 9 | Arcane Power: 6 | Accuracy: 6 | Ability: Sixth Sense
Frog Choir President | Ravenclaw Chaser
4 Apr 2020, 20:46
This Too Will Pass
[quote]If there was anyone who could grandly screw up a first impression, it would be Marla Quinlan. After all, the devastating glint in the Ravenclaw's eyes after she had mentioned the lake didn't exactly prove her statement wrong. Guilt stabbed her in the gut as she opened her mouth to apologize, though nothing came out. However, thankfully, the girl ended up breaking the jarring silence, with the statement that water was dangerous. And then going on about how the lake swallowed her friend, causing Marla's face to distort in shock.
"Swallowed?" She repeated with disbelief, staring daggers at the lake. Not sure if she wanted to punch it or run away from it. Of course, punching it wouldn't really do anything, it wasn't living. It was simply water. But to think that someone... Lost their life in there, was strange. Why hadn't she heard of it either? The headliner would've been on that as a story in seconds. Was she just living under a rock this whole time? Taking a side glance at the girl, she was now not making an effort to hide her tears, crying right in front of the Gryffindor.
Marla plopped herself right next to the girl, tears beginning to well up in her own eyes. She didn't realize how many people had witnessed death right in front of their very eyes... While Lachlan's soulless eyes haunted her at almost every moment of every day, she didn't have to walk by the room or house where it happened every day for ten months. This girl wasn't able to escape her friend ever. She could be gazing out of the window while in class, and see the lake, almost taunting her for taking the life of someone she cared about, for 304 days. And the fact that she was still somewhat sane– that took strength.
"I know how you feel," She began, her voice nasally from her now stuffy nose. "My brother, he– um.. Marla wiped her eyes and took a deep breath before saying it out loud, "He isn't around either, thanks to my grandparents. It's a long story but I mean, you aren't alone. And it sucks. More than anything ever. You don't realize how much you miss them 'till they're gone.." She wiped the tears off of her cheeks with her robe, and began pulling patches of grass out of the ground. Taking another deep breath, she felt her chest struggle to do so without quivering, almost as if she, herself were drowning. And in a way, Marla was. Every second of every day, she felt like she was swimming deeper, and deeper in guilt and hope for something that would never be. What if she had never walked downstairs that night? Or used her wand to fight her grandparents? Lachlan should have been the one to walk out of the house that night. Not her.
Snapping her out of her rather disheartening thoughts, the Ravenclaw offered a rock to Marla, saying that it helped. "I'll take anything I can get," she joked, taking the rock out of her hand. Grasping the sharp, rough rock tightly, she let out a small grunt as she tossed it in the lake with as much force as possible, because hey, maybe if she threw hard enough, it'll take her problems with it. But while it helped in the moment, the rock definitely didn't do that. It helped a bit, but a simple rock wasn't exactly going to be a miracle worker. She watched it sink until it was no more, shrouded by the muddy water. "I guess it helped a little," Marla lied with a shrug and a small smile. And as positive as she wanted to be right now, the only thing going through her brain was that this, and nothing would ever bring him back.
"Oh, I'm Marla, by the way. Kinda funny how we started a conversation about like, some of the worst times in our lives without even knowing each others names," She rambled, hoping that the girl wouldn't take offense to that. It sort of just came out– and now that it did, she kind of regretted introducing herself like that, but if Marla learned anything from that horrible night in December, it was that you couldn't dwell on the past. Or at least, if you did, it would most likely go pretty badly.
"Swallowed?" She repeated with disbelief, staring daggers at the lake. Not sure if she wanted to punch it or run away from it. Of course, punching it wouldn't really do anything, it wasn't living. It was simply water. But to think that someone... Lost their life in there, was strange. Why hadn't she heard of it either? The headliner would've been on that as a story in seconds. Was she just living under a rock this whole time? Taking a side glance at the girl, she was now not making an effort to hide her tears, crying right in front of the Gryffindor.
Marla plopped herself right next to the girl, tears beginning to well up in her own eyes. She didn't realize how many people had witnessed death right in front of their very eyes... While Lachlan's soulless eyes haunted her at almost every moment of every day, she didn't have to walk by the room or house where it happened every day for ten months. This girl wasn't able to escape her friend ever. She could be gazing out of the window while in class, and see the lake, almost taunting her for taking the life of someone she cared about, for 304 days. And the fact that she was still somewhat sane– that took strength.
"I know how you feel," She began, her voice nasally from her now stuffy nose. "My brother, he– um.. Marla wiped her eyes and took a deep breath before saying it out loud, "He isn't around either, thanks to my grandparents. It's a long story but I mean, you aren't alone. And it sucks. More than anything ever. You don't realize how much you miss them 'till they're gone.." She wiped the tears off of her cheeks with her robe, and began pulling patches of grass out of the ground. Taking another deep breath, she felt her chest struggle to do so without quivering, almost as if she, herself were drowning. And in a way, Marla was. Every second of every day, she felt like she was swimming deeper, and deeper in guilt and hope for something that would never be. What if she had never walked downstairs that night? Or used her wand to fight her grandparents? Lachlan should have been the one to walk out of the house that night. Not her.
Snapping her out of her rather disheartening thoughts, the Ravenclaw offered a rock to Marla, saying that it helped. "I'll take anything I can get," she joked, taking the rock out of her hand. Grasping the sharp, rough rock tightly, she let out a small grunt as she tossed it in the lake with as much force as possible, because hey, maybe if she threw hard enough, it'll take her problems with it. But while it helped in the moment, the rock definitely didn't do that. It helped a bit, but a simple rock wasn't exactly going to be a miracle worker. She watched it sink until it was no more, shrouded by the muddy water. "I guess it helped a little," Marla lied with a shrug and a small smile. And as positive as she wanted to be right now, the only thing going through her brain was that this, and nothing would ever bring him back.
"Oh, I'm Marla, by the way. Kinda funny how we started a conversation about like, some of the worst times in our lives without even knowing each others names," She rambled, hoping that the girl wouldn't take offense to that. It sort of just came out– and now that it did, she kind of regretted introducing herself like that, but if Marla learned anything from that horrible night in December, it was that you couldn't dwell on the past. Or at least, if you did, it would most likely go pretty badly.
"your loss, baby !!"
stamina 10 | evasion 7 | strength 6 | wisdom 7 | arcpower 6 | accuracy 9
stamina 10 | evasion 7 | strength 6 | wisdom 7 | arcpower 6 | accuracy 9