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 These Wounds that Will Not Heal {Sorrow}

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Eleonora Valenta
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PostSubject: These Wounds that Will Not Heal {Sorrow}   Mon Jan 06, 2014 9:37 pm

The night was rushing in like the waves of the lake far below, covering everything in deepening twilight. It was a late sunset, for the winter sky was holding on tight to its last breaths. The wind was rushing into Eleonora's eyes, causing droplets of tears to form and be torn away into the open air as she soared hundreds of feet above the thawing ground. The wind pushing its way across her face stained her cheeks and nose red, feeling like tiny shards but not as unpleasant as she first imagined. A fire was rushing out behind her, or so it would appear to anyone chancing to look up into the sky. The flames of her red hair caught the dying sun and shone, blazingly whipping in the currants of the wind. She loosened her grip on Polaris's feathers and breathed in deep, taking in the crisp raw feeling of the air so far above where she normally dwelled.  

It was more than exhilarating to be here, untethered to the constraints of the solid world. With the castle and its inhabitants so small and far beneath her Eleonora could forget about all the things that troubled her and kept her worrying mind occupied. Lately she had taken to spending even more time in her own company. After the attack in the forest by the werewolf, Gail, it had taken Eleonora some time to heal from her wounds. The deep gashes in her body were slow to close and faded little, even as time passed. She guessed they would always remain, red streaks across her arms and chest, as a reminder of that tragic night. When she had awoke in the hospital wing it was some time after the attack and she was alone but for the steady sound of rain pattering against the windows. She later learned that is had been Sorrow who had returned her to the castle, had made sure both her and the other girl were safe. Eleonora briefly wished he had stayed, to tell her this himself, to let her thank him...but when the tears began to fall as she remembered Vega's fate she was grateful he was no where to be found.

After that Eleonora began to stay away from most of the members of the school's faculty. She would happily teach her classes, but would take her meals alone in her office, or bring them down to the edge of the forest and spend her time with Polaris, who seemed to be unwilling to let Eleonora out of his sight. He had become very protective of her, seemingly to make sure nothing ever harmed her again. The loss of his brother had hardened him in the same way that it had broken Eleonora down. She had failed in her role as their protector, their foster-parent. The realization of that tore her heart in pieces, but she determined to never let it happen again to anyone she cared for.

It was on one of those evenings spent with Polaris that Eleonora mustered up the courage to sit astride his powerful body and take to the sky. The rhythmic beating of his wings and the warmth emanating from his body felt like nothing else she had experienced, and she was loath to return to the ground. “Down, Polaris,” she said reluctantly, the wind whipping away her words.

Polaris's large talons dug ruts into the soil, tearing up clumps of dirt and squelching worms. The stop was sudden and Eleonora pitched forward, grabbing onto his feathers to stop herself from falling. She would have to work on her landings. A huff was issued by her flying friend and she loosened her grip, changing it into a hug around his neck. His feathers were soft and tickling on her cheek and she smiled into him. “You did brilliantly,” she whispered as she slid herself from his body and planted her feet firmly back on the ground.
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PostSubject: Re: These Wounds that Will Not Heal {Sorrow}   Wed Jan 08, 2014 3:26 pm



In the short while leading from one point, the forest, to the other, the hospital wing, Sorrow was nearly maddened by the thick scent that had clogged in his nose and throat. He remembered an anger consuming him; the nurse rushing forward and up to the beds where Sorrow had laid Gail and Eleonora; his own attempt at leaving and the way the nurse tried to stop him. He must have been quite frightening, torn and bloodied, eyes flashing and fangs barred. The nurse didn’t try to stop him again as he stalked off.

He ended up locking himself away in the bathroom of his office, stepping into a cabin fully clothed and letting cold water shower over him. There was no way to properly wash out all the blood; and he could do little more but drown until some of his anger had passed. He remained there for a long time; trembling fingers pulling out the crystal vial from the inside pocket of his robes; desperation making him shake the vial far more violently that usual; at last the relief as the magic flowed through and it filled up with the fresh blood of his donor. Sorrow drank it in a second, then greedily shook the vial again. The second helping allowed his control to strengthen where it had been breaking.

Now as he gazed at the fire that danced across the sky, Sorrow remembered the series of events all too well. Though not immediately after, he did go back to the hospital wing, both to see how Gail and Eleonora were doing and to apologise to the nurse for his behaviour. The lack of control was frightening for him too. It was an incident that would likely have to be reported to the headmistress. All that led to it, however, remained untold. Sorrow would rather try and prevent something like that from happening ever again, for reporting Gail to the school meant she’d have to be reported to the Ministry too; and such a word was too cruel. They all carried scars now; impossibly, there were scars on his skin as well. His shoulder had been torn apart in the encounter. The pain had not come to him until later but, though he had allowed the nurse to patch him up, it visited his nightmarish sleep in form of high fever. The time it had taken to heal was not enough to fade the thick lines from his skin.

Tearing his eyes away from the falling sun, Sorrow retreated farther into the shadow of the castle. He had looked longer than he thought, for there remained a burn even after he’d closed his eyelids. The wind that poked through the barrier of skin soothed some of the pain and when again Sorrow opened his eyes, there was no more fire in the sky.

Days after she had been dismissed from the hospital wing, Sorrow kept a watchful eye on Eleonora, stayed in during the holidays and paid more attention to her movement outside the castle. He never tried to get close, however. He had no way of knowing whether she wanted him in her presence or not; and then by the end of the year he'd gone away. Somehow there seemed to be danger in staying. He’d gone to the manor, to visit the lord and the lady. His family never celebrated Christmas, but there would have been a ritual to bless the Earth, the new circle it had completed.

Sorrow too was a year older, yet he felt as if he had learned nothing at all in the past year of his life. Leaving Hogwarts, even if it were for just a couple of days, felt a lot like running away. Once more he was afraid that instead of drawing out the sorrow, he'd be the one to bring it in. Perhaps Misery would have talked (or punched) some sense into him, but she made no appearance at the gathering. Away in Norway, she'd thought to him, and that was the only time he'd heard from her. He wondered if she was running away too.

Polaris had landed near the lake, farther away from where Sorrow stood. He could not see them from there, but the wind carried their scents across the distance; both the taste of hippogriff and human. Hers, Eleonora’s, was much more intense; after all Sorrow had felt it’s warmth on his hands. He knew it well, without ever intending to. So whether it was her blood or her being that drew him in, he could not tell. All the same, he started towards her.
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PostSubject: Re: These Wounds that Will Not Heal {Sorrow}   Thu Jan 09, 2014 5:26 pm

A low rumble started in Polaris's throat, vibrating his feathers where Eleonora's hand rested. She swiftly spun away from the lake, in the direction that Polaris was facing. Her guard was up, now, her ears open for any out of place sound or glint of something that did not belong in the serene castle grounds. The beat of her heart increased as she surveyed the area around her, both fearful and alert. Eleonora had once learned to be aware of her surroundings and the possibility of dangerous creatures and the damage they could cause; it had been part of her job, and a part that she had always prided herself on. Now, after experiencing an attack that could easily have ended her time among the living, she was even more on edge. The slightest provocation and she was wary, knowing full well that she had not been as vigilant she she should have been before, and it had cost a friend their life.

Eleonora spotted an approaching figure and relaxed when she recognized the unique way they moved through the darker patches of night, seeming to unconsciously favor the darkness and seclusion they offered. She left out a sigh of release, soothed that nothing of danger was lurking nearby. Her hand went again to Polaris and she leaned into his ears, hushing him. She was somewhat surprised over his reaction at seeing Sorrow; he had saved Eleonora's life after all, and she had assumed Polaris would understand he was no enemy. Though perhaps he instead recognized the inherent threat that Sorrow's very being implied and was only doing his best to keep her away from danger, whether it was imminent or, in this case, improbable.

Looking across the frosted grass to where Sorrow was slowly making his way to her, Eleonora prepared herself to finally speak with him. She had seen not even a ghost of him around the castle since that night, and she assumed it was not only due to her own avoidance of others. Surely he was avoiding her, as well. She could not imagine he would have much to say to her after that night, after she had heard his words of caution and so thoroughly ignored him. She had wanted to explain to him why, to try to make the amends she believed were necessary, but she had no notion of how to tell Sorrow how grateful she was of his heroic actions, of her understanding of how hard it must have been for him to somehow carry her bleeding body back to the hospital wing, or how  she would have done the same for him. No words she could put together in her head ever came close to translating her feelings, for they were too complicated for even her to understand fully.

There was a brief moment of panic that showed in her darting eyes as Eleonora watched Sorrow approach. A part of her even considered climbing back onto Polaris to avoid the situation entirely, to fly off in chase of the now extinguished sun and return only when there was no confrontations she would be obligated to attend. The moment passed, however, and she remained where she was, her eye sight waning in the darkness that was quickly devouring the lake, unable to make out Sorrow's progress without straining. Eleonora absently ran her hand through her wind tangled hair while she waited, no hopes that it could be tamed without a strong brush but attempting nonetheless.

When he reached her she gave a weak smile, trying her best to appear confident and far from nervous. “Hi,” she started, her voice quiet against the night. Eleonora hated how unsure she she sounded to her own ears, wishing she knew what exactly to say in this situation. She knew what she wanted to say, of course, but those words never seemed to make it out of her mouth. Now that Sorrow was standing by her again she did not want to speak at all, apprehensive that like the last time they were this close (that she was conscious for) he would wrongly take offense and saunter off. She opened her mouth slightly to say something, then closed it again, biting the corner of her lips instead. He was the one who had approached her, had made the decision to break their unspoken avoidance. She would let him speak his mind, first.
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PostSubject: Re: These Wounds that Will Not Heal {Sorrow}   Tue Jan 21, 2014 9:28 am



He heard the cautious voice tap its way into his being, the aggressive implication of its colour and tone burning cold in his chest and touching further until shushed. He saw the ruffled feathers though the wind had died at that moment, lying still as seconds dragged as if through mist before it would pick up again. His presence called two minds to attention and he recalled the one look of fear he had before seen in eyes frightened of his immediate actions, his control immediately wounded as his heart flickered in angry response. The sound of heartbeat was a loud, drumming noise inside his head, but it was not his own. It grew and then suddenly quieted as he stepped out from where the shadows did not swallow him entirely. As he approached, so did the fear fade to be replaced by the slightest hope of calm, her reasoning or his own that it was a different danger that drew terror into bone and panic into mind. She recognized him and it was not him she abhorred.

The creature by her side, however, saw more into him than her mortal eyes could. Before the hippogriff was assured that Sorrow bore no ill intention he would, Sorrow suspected, react to his one natural instinct. He would be right in doing so too, regardless of the outcome. Not all dangerous things were evil, just as many good things could pose a threat. Whether either claim could be presented in words, the question remained if they would be rightly understood or truthful; and Sorrow would stop to bow before them both in search of approval before drawing any closer.

There was a silence to the usually fast-moving world that surrounded them; a stillness present not only in the branches weighed down by snow or in the patches of frozen grass; it was in his breath as well and his eyes, the unmoving figure he was watching. Then as if breaking through a spell that had made time stop, fire sparked with one of the last gasps of ever fading light, breathing into earth, throwing this world that had disappeared, if only for a moment, back into motion. Sorrow too flew forward like a moth did towards candlelight, stopping only before the flame would burn him as it did an unthinking insect.

He could form no greeting of his own or reply to the fragile smile that hung on her lips. If anything else feathered her courage it was well, for so long as her tongue was locked he could speak. “I was worried,” he said and remained in front of her. “I was angry too, whether I had a right to be or not. I have thought a long time what I might say to you and then I stopped thinking inadvertently; and no word that dares spill into my mouth or pass over my lips at this moment would dare do so had it been carefully considered. In fact I may be infuriated still that you had not fled when I so instructed, for it makes me tragically aware that you would not have had the good sense to flee even if I had not been there.” All this Sorrow said without giving movement to his eyes or head or limb; his voice controlled, not raising once in volume or changing in tone. “In retrospect, it has been a long time since I have been so frightened for someone’s wellbeing that I might want to yell at them; I do not, I will not do it now, but know that I want to.”

“That said I was not unaware of my poor performance. Words that I have now, that may speak of my concern, are unfortunately inadequate. If your heart would consider forgiving this fool of a man for lacking in both wisdom and courage, he may yet find reason in effort required to acquire these qualities. To put it simply,” he breathed, attempting perhaps to ward off the tremor that started in the fingers of his left hand. “I am angry, like a child whose favourite toy was broken and he knows not how to fix it, just as he knew not how to keep it from breaking.” Sorrow gave a short pause, frowning as he did consider those last few words. “Not to imply that you are a toy. Or mine. Please stop looking at me like that.”
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PostSubject: Re: These Wounds that Will Not Heal {Sorrow}   Fri Jan 24, 2014 4:19 am

Eleonora was silent and still as she listened to Sorrow speak, the night closing in around them and settling in for its long stay. Above them the stars began to burst into being, taking over the sky with their frigid glow and giving only the scantest of light to the world far below. They gave no warmth and in the winter air the last heat of the sun was long gone, causing a small shiver to course through Eleonora and she instinctively pulled her arms closer to her body, wincing slightly with the pain that still sometimes came from the scars upon them. Sorrow's voice flowed through the chill air and the silver light of the stars, though, making her forget the cold momentarily. While his first words, words proclaiming anger and displeasure with her, were harsh in meaning their tone wound its way through her mind, lulling her into a more relaxed state. How he could speak with such melody Eleonora would never know, but without fail it had a soothing effect on her.

Despite her concentration on what Sorrow was saying, Eleonora soon became slightly perplexed as to his intentions and meanings. One moment he spoke of his fury, the next he proclaimed his concern and fondness. She felt her brow furrow in thought and confusion, wishing that Sorrow would speak in clearer terms. Perhaps it was her fault for not understanding, but certainly there must be another way to tell her how he felt rather than by associations.

“I'm sorry,” she mumbled when he had finished, looking away. The constant gaze of Sorrow's unflinching gray eyes had grown unnerving, not because she feared what was going on behind them but because she could feel the heat of anger that was liable to roll out. There descended a moment of silence, waves of the lake lapping quietly against the sand the only sound beyond their soft breathing. It was now her turn to speak; the things she had been intending to say welling up in her throat until they came haltingly out of her lips, a white puff of warm breath accompanying each pause.

“I didn't intend for you to worry, I didn't know you would. That night, I overestimated my abilities, but even if I had not...I'm sorry, Sorrow, but I wouldn't have left anyway, as you instructed. Not when Polaris and you and, and Gail were there. I know you're angry but even if I had known your reaction, now, I would not change what I did. Maybe I'm just trying to believe I did something to help, to make myself feel better...but, getting that beast away from you for just a moment, and maybe away from Polaris, too, I had to do it.” Eleonora chanced a glance into Sorrow's eyes, to check if he was still as unmoving as when he had spoken. Her eyes did not stay long as she continued her apology. “I've been meaning to thank you, though. I've just been thinking over how to say it. I...I guess thank you is the only way I can put it. You probably saved my life and here I am stumbling over my words trying to tell you how much it means to me, and how I wish I knew a better way to thank you than being afraid to see you since that night just because I can't sort out my own feelings...” A bright crimson was staining her cheeks as she rambled on, unsure why, after so much agonizing over how to organize her thoughts into carefully constructed words, they all just leaped out of her lips into the night air without her consent.

“And I'm not going to forgive you – there's nothing to forgive you for. I don't think you're foolish or, or whatever you think you're not.” Eleonora's voice had softened, now a near whisper as she lost confidence in her words and whether or not it was her place to speak them. “I also hope that, maybe, you'll stop being angry with me.” Finally she met Sorrow's eyes again, this time hers large and wide, full of a warmth waiting to spill out if only she could know for sure it would be welcome.
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PostSubject: Re: These Wounds that Will Not Heal {Sorrow}   Fri Jan 24, 2014 9:59 pm



He felt it at once as her words took root in his heart; an overwhelming wave of pure panic, washing over and through him like a bittersweet drink of ice cold dread, just hinting at excitement. Seeds that grew into trees, bloomed and shed their leaves, and then died out in the cold again. Something he had thought forgotten, a chapter of his life playing on repeat with the exception of flickering colours: yellow, purple, red. Fire, they were all fire. And Sorrow, he was the moth, the stupid moth that kept falling for the same beautiful shine.

Eleonora, she looked at him like there was nothing unusual about being angry, but oh it was; for him it was. “No you don’t-” there it was, the first slip of controlled form of speech. “You do not understand, I do not get angry.” His right arm rose before him, seemingly on its own, as if his body was giving way to the only possible response, raising a shield between him and the danger. The fingers of his left hand tightened into a fist, for the tremor had only grown stronger. “I don’t, I have spent years learning control over my emotions and only once did I let it break; and after that I thought I was done, I should have more than learned my lesson.” He breathed in the air, held it in his lungs where it mixed with her scent; then released his fingers from a fist and made his arm drop back to his side.

“You look at me as if you do not understand, but this is what it is; it is a spill of what emotion I only learned in the moment of experiencing it and it is all I can do.” It was a lot like Vanity, too. Sorrow had been angry with him plenty of times, but was Eleonora really just as reckless as he had been? Perhaps it was a small reminder; the boy had been special in other ways as well, until at last they had avoided each other one too many times. It was terrifyingly normal to find these lines, these incredibly logical comparisons and yet wonder at the new he had discovered within this new flame. It was a pity, however, that only anger was powerful enough an emotion to stir anything else within Sorrow, any other feeling he may have suppressed. He was doing the same thing, over and over again. He just didn’t know any better. “Do not apologise to me,” he said quickly, grey eyes flickering with recognition. Vanity would do that too and it was wrong, it was all wrong. Sorrow was the one who truly did not understand any of it, never had.

Words built up to a noise in his ears. Not something Eleonora voiced or the beating of hearts he had heard before. It was just noise, white noise, blocking out all else. What am I to do? Sorrow thought, searching desperately for any connection to Misery. She had blocked him out. Blocked him out, blocked him out once again— perhaps it was a question he would never stop asking, one that no one ever stopped asking, a part of their growth.

“Of course I worried,” he said suddenly. And again, “Of course,” he said, “I worried. Why is everyone always so surprised to hear that I care?” His eyes turned towards the stars for a glance, tiny sparkling lights from where they stood, far away. “Even now you are in pain and I can do nothing beside,” untouchable, unattainable stars, his eyes returned to Eleonora. He did not feel like she needed to thank him. “I should not have avoided you.” As her words grew quiet, though Sorrow could hear them fine he drew closer, keeping contact as Eleonora’s eyes found his and, this time, kept looking right at him; straight through him. “What could have been more foolish than that? I saved something that is also precious to me,” he lifted his left hand, the trembling fingers, wove them into fire; and relaxed because it was not fire at all. It was hair, just hair, sweet and fresh and a hint of spice; soft and slightly damp in the cold. His other hand lifted to touch her cheek, bright and warm. He never could stay angry long. “Though I am on the verge of saying something stupid, I am rather fearful of what Polaris might do to me if I do.”
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PostSubject: Re: These Wounds that Will Not Heal {Sorrow}   Sun Jan 26, 2014 2:01 am

Sparks of emotion were showing in Sorrow's speech now, his words no longer so easily controlled. Eleonora watched as he struggled to keep the composure she was certain he had grown to believe was expected from him. She could not stay quiet, though, and uncharacteristicly interrupted him. “I do understand; you don't want to be angry. But...if you repress all your emotions, how can you be happy? Sometimes-I guess sometimes being angry is a precursor to other things. You can't pick and chose which emotions you allow yourself to feel, right? What if you miss out on something that would have been really wonderful just because you're not letting yourself experience anything emotionally?” She lowered her eyes, uncertain of the effect her words would have. They needed to be said, it was something Eleonora had to rely. She could not fathom her life without the little delights she experienced every day, or the tragic events that peppered her existence. Even anger, when she felt it, she accepted. While she kept most experiences to herself, and knew not how to speak clearly of her deeper emotions, she  understood their relevance and place in her life. Now, faced with Sorrow straining before her to ignore such feelings, she struggled to impart to him what she felt was important.

The next time Sorrow spoke a strange brew of alarm and delight took hold in Eleonora's heart; there was no mistaking the way he referred to her as being precious to him. While the thought of being thought of such was thrilling, sending jolts of electricity through the nerves in her body, it was also slightly terrifying. How was she to respond, when this type of interaction, these type of words, were ones she had shied away from most of her life. They required honesty and care, both of which she had in abundance, but so rarely  called to use with her peers that they came slowly to her. She worried it was too easy to tread the wrong path, so effortless to make a mistake that would cost her heart another loss. Recalling the words she had just spoken to Sorrow, she pushed her worries, her feelings of social inadequacy, as far back into the jumble of thoughts that was her mind at present as she could manage. “I wasn't surprised you cared; its obvious you care. You wouldn't have been looking for Gail if you didn't care a great deal for the people in your life. I was...I was just surprised I was one of them.”  

The hand, quivering as it rose, that reached into her hair took Eleonora by surprise, as did the other one, a second later, that rested gently on her flushed cheek. While she had felt the presence of Sorrow's body touching her own twice before, once as they walked arm in arm through the moonlit forest, and once when the snow fell and quiet music serenaded their private moment, this time it was different; his cold hand on her exposed skin felt more intimate than she could have imagined. She was momentarily struck motionless, unable to even draw a breath of the freezing air as she contemplated the implications of such a tender touch. Eleonora thought to look away, once Polaris was mentioned, to check on how he was responding to Sorrow being so near to her; his reaction to the man's appearance was hostile enough that he may well be prepping an attack, yet there were no sounds of displeasure from behind her where he remained. Still  her eyes would not move from Sorrow's, and her body seemed rooted to the spot, disabling her from looking back at Polaris even if there were more cause.

“I don't think Polaris is listening...” She managed through the knot that had formed in her throat, constricting the words that attempted to climb their way out of her lips. Just as Sorrow's hand had trembled as he rose it to her hair, her body could have been have deep in the throes of hypothermia for all the effort it took her to stop it from trembling as she took a small step forward, closing the distance between their two bodies. Her head tilted up, hair tumbling farther down her back, slipping its way through the hand entwined within its blaze. She now could see Sorrow clearly in the dim light of the stars, how his gray eyes matched the shimmer of the moon on the lake and how clear they were, studying her upturned face so carefully. It was all she could do not to close her eyes and let her head fall onto his chest, forgetting for a brief moment the pain and grief that she had been through, and the swirling storm of emotions now beating her heart hard against her own chest. “Sorrow,” she whispered then, a question in her voice, unable to fully form her thoughts into coherent phrases when his lips were just a lift  to her toes away.
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PostSubject: Re: These Wounds that Will Not Heal {Sorrow}   Mon Jan 27, 2014 7:40 pm



It was, perhaps, with the slightest sort of an afterthought that he gave in to thought on Eleonora’s interruption, but it was good he did so at all. Happiness too was supposed to be suppressed, to a point where it did not influence his reason or further action. Happiness was, Sorrow had admitted to himself and others, a very selfish thing for him to ask for and cherish, moreover so when he knew he could be happy, when he had been happy before. Up and down he went, spiralling through the game of can and cannot, feeling and suppressing as if he could not quite decide which was best. “I suppose I cannot,” he said, not truly; in mind perhaps, but not in heart. “It is very different from what I have learned and not at all true to what I experience.” His brow caught a frown again and he said, “And yet what I experience is not at all what I have learned.”

There were, however, missing factors in Eleonora’s equation, the past few years in which she had not known him; out of three stages that Sorrow was aware of, she was perhaps aware of one. First was the emotional control lacking emotional stimulant; second, that Sorrow experienced with Vanity and to some extent Lacetta, was attempted control in opposition to the new-found emotional response; third and current was lack of control in addition to suppressed emotional history. Now that Sorrow gave it some thought, it did not seem sensible to go back to the first stage. “That is not our way,” he said gently and the corners of his mouth tugged his lips into a smile. “Indeed it is not and yet-- I chose to remain among mortal men. In your world all things change and so must I.” What was the fourth stage then? Certainly not control, but stability and-- advancement towards emotional maturity.

The air inside his lungs was at once anise and earthy; calming and so very light. He was a vampire in blood, but anything else he bore in name only once separated from the clan. Sorrow would return to play his part someday. For the moment he would remain in both worlds and learn as much as he could of either. He wondered how long it would take him to get it right.

“And in this process of metamorphose, I should also attempt to voice the workings of my mind,” he paused, and then nodded as if he was content with that precise construction of sentence at this point in time. “To elaborate, I should work on showing I care-- to the people I care for.” Yes, that seemed quite right, no point doing it otherwise, though Sorrow had not the slightest idea how to go about it. Not yet anyway. Words were not always simple and they refused to come clean. There was a way of communicating through mind or touch, specific links, but certainly not all subjects demanded the same technique. People, Sorrow decided, were hard; moreover he had never thought that in comparison, he would look to understanding vampires as undemanding.

It was good that Polaris was not, in fact, listening, although for a short moment Sorrow wondered what had drawn his attention instead. His name on Eleonora's lips, if just a whisper, brought Sorrow's notice back to what was important. He saw her as she was, unmoving beneath his gaze, eyes as fixed on him as his were on her. She had moved closer to him, something he had missed in that short moment and, for all that, it made him smile more, because how silly that he should become distracted now. “Thank you, Eleonora,” finally he said and moved his hands so her head tilted gently; just enough so he could place his lips upon her forehead. “You are perfectly right.” And he, well of course, he was talking entirely too much; and it made him feel quite exhausted all of a sudden.
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PostSubject: Re: These Wounds that Will Not Heal {Sorrow}   Tue Jan 28, 2014 11:54 am

The night wore on around them, secluding them in what felt to Eleonora like their own private world, where there were only the two of them and the soft words they spoke. Sorrow seemed to be speaking not to her, but more to himself, contemplating and coming to terms, never quite explaining just what he was referring to. Eleonora supposed she could catch on, understand if only in words, but it was so hard to focus. The melody of his voice and the comforting aroma that clung to his cloak, and even the small smile that played on his face; all were like a sweet wine to her in that moment, dulling her mind in increments. While she took in his words of transformations she also listened to the night around them, the sound of waves and night birds, Polaris's even breathing and the distant hum of the castle and its inhabitants settling into their dreams. Peaceful and easy, that was what this was.

Eleonora couldn't help the smile that spread across her face, parting her lips ever so slightly, when she felt Sorrow's lips grace her cold skin. She also felt she had no control over her arms, which were raising from their position at her sides and slipping themselves around Sorrow's middle and resting there, having drawn him into a warm embrace. Letting her head fall forward, she rested against the tight muscle of his chest, just taking a moment to breathe and digest the situation. She supposed if he was being candid, or at least attempting to, in his own way, it was only fair if she was as well. What was the correct way to tell someone how you felt about them, though; was there an easy way that Eleonora had never learned while she had been keeping herself hidden away caring only for beasts instead of others like her? Not for the first time she worried she had spent too long focusing on her work and her responsibilities to the creatures under her care. They held a special place in her heart, a large portion of it, but deep within her was the fear that she had never developed the skills necessary to be close, truly close, to other people. The only way to improve such skills, Eleonora decided, was to put herself in situations where she felt that warmth of emotion, such as how she felt now, with Sorrow's hands in her hair and the chill air running over the damp impression his lips had made on her.

“I...did some thinking, after what happened to Vega.” She started, her voice still a mere hint of a whisper. “Life, it can be ripped away so fast and without warning. I-I wouldn't want to not have the courage to say things that were important, if something were to happen.” Biting her lip, looking down from Sorrow's eyes, “But, maybe...” Still, she struggled to get the words out, silently reprimanding herself. Why had it always been so difficult for her, when it was made to look easy by others? The inbred fear of saying the wrong thing, something that would offend or dismay; Eleonora's heart dreaded such eventualities, never wanting to harm another. The stress it put her in, though, made it so difficult that words almost always faltered before her and she was left attempting to convince herself it was often better not to speak at all. Now, she knew, was not one of those times. If anything were to change in her life, if she were ever to prevail over her deep rooted aversion to speaking openly, she had to start somewhere.

“I...well, I'm sure you know, but- I care about you, too. I might be wrong, I think I usually am about these type of things, but...maybe there's something here. Between us? More than,” she chanced a quick look back into Sorrow's eyes, aware that the rose of her cheeks was spreading as she forced the words to flow from her lips. “More than just co-workers or, or even, friends?” The thought occurred the moment she had finished her question that she was perhaps being too bold and she quickly began talking again, not letting Sorrow have a chance to answer. “Oh, but, maybe that's inappropriate of me to say, or assume. I'm just-it's been. You see...” her tongue seemed to be twisted and the humor of the moment hit her, causing the smile to return as she again lifted her head and tilted it up to take in the best angle of Sorrow's eyes. It was then that she made up her mind to take a chance, something Eleonora rarely allowed herself to do. “I'm sorry; you're very distracting. I can't seem to find the right thing to say to you. Maybe I shouldn't try and just...” Eleonora lifted herself up onto her toes and very softly laid her lips on Sorrow's. It may not have been the right thing to do, in fact it might have been the worst idea she ever had, but it kept her from rambling more and soon she would know for certain where she stood, and whether she needed to jump back on Polaris and ride away from the horrible embarrassment that might follow.
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PostSubject: Re: These Wounds that Will Not Heal {Sorrow}   Tue May 13, 2014 10:56 pm



Nighttide settled on his shoulders like a comfortable cloak. Her smile melted away the exhaustion, the confusion he had felt. For a moment, even if just that one short moment, everything felt absolutely right. Nothing in the world clashed or threatened; not one breath could pass through the barrier; and everything that later might come back to argue his reasoning should have been erased under moonlight with her smile. Sorrow breathed like no weight pressed against his lungs, fingers caught on the soft skin, deaf to the sound, blind to colour and all else that was apart from her. Her warmth against his; he stood perfectly still. Only his arms moved, over her shoulders, around her back, until finally they settled in a returned embrace. If they could shatter then, surely they would.

The sound of her voice once more wove a spell, pulling at his heart as it might be ripped out and brought through a broken chest, exposed to such emotion he had thoroughly wished away. What meaning had death to him? What teachings had he known in his life? Her thoughts were no less true than that. Words might have been good to him in death, but not to her. He would not wish them to be enough either. Stop, he wanted to tell her. Do not say more. He remained silent, leaning back and cocking his head to have better view of her features; and he listened. To words, to pause and stutter, he listened and emotion spilled over his skin. He felt it burn inside his eyes. The perfect sense of hopeless joy.

His arms fell away from her, fingers looking to skin again, hands cupping around her cheeks. Warmed by the rush of blood, when they should have been cold; she should have been shaking, but the chill did not seem to touch her. Her lips were his for a second and in that one terrible moment, Sorrow understood. After all that had been, it amazed him that she should want him. And he was the one shaking as if frost had struck him. Her lips tasted far too sweet for the wonder to continue. What did it matter anyway? He needed only to lean forward to capture them again; as desperate as it might be to seek them for confirmation, for comfort. “I dared not think,” he mouthed, barely voiced. Her lips were his, for as long as she might let them be. “Eleonora, I dared not think.”
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PostSubject: Re: These Wounds that Will Not Heal {Sorrow}   Fri May 16, 2014 4:24 pm

As their lips parted for the first time her nerves must have shown have shown on her face, for she could not comprehend how she was still standing on legs that felt boneless. When Sorrow then took her face in his hands and kissed her a second time Eleonora had her answer, even without the words he was mumbling into her lips, and just like that she could breath again and the fear of rejection vanished. She had no words to speak, nothing that would add meaning or insight to Sorrow's soft confession. Instead she stopped his words with her mouth, this time no longer nervous but calm enough to enjoy  the sensation she had only dared to imagine. The exhilaration she had felt in the air with Polaris was back, but in a whole new way.  How long it had been since she had been kissed this way Eleonora could not recall, but knew it was never quite like the sensation she was feeling now. Sorrow's touch was cool against her nearly feverish skin, icy pinpoints that seemed to melt into something softer as he pressed his hands into her cheeks and hair. Lips that tasted faintly of something bitter melded to hers and she tried to memorize the feeling but ultimately failed, knowing a memory would no doubt fall short of the experience. Her eyes were shut lightly but she could feel the pressure of Sorrow all around her, keeping her close to him in a way she never wanted to break from.

Never had she thought, not even in the far reaches of her mind where her deepest desires were held, that changing her life to work here at Hogwarts would affect so much. Change was not something Eleonora was not readily equipped to deal with, yet her shift from the lonely life she had lead only very recently was easier than she ever imagined. Much had happened in the months she had been here, the majority of it an improvement on her life. Her job was challenging and rewarding, even though it was one she had never envisioned herself doing well at. She had a friend in Gail, among other faculty members, and was even taking the steps to have something more in Sorrow. Change was slowly losing its bad connotations in her mind and becoming something that was necessary and even welcome. She was changing into someone more confident, and that itself was worth whatever discomfort she felt along the way.

An eternity passed before she slid back down from her toes, her feet, it not her heart, firmly back on the ground. The lingering chill from Sorrow's kiss was still on her lips as she pressed them gently to the hollow of his neck, where her head lay naturally when she stood so close. She took a deep breath, the first since she had spoken so nervously, and felt the stars and moonlight fill her lungs and slow her racing heart. Looking back up to Sorrow she saw the light catch in his eyes and reflect back to her; gray that was no longer cold and distant as the sky but welcoming and right here for her to gaze at as she would. “I don't know what to say, now,” her voice was only a part of the wind that rippled the grass beneath their feet. “I...I didn't actually plan on this.” Her smile parted with a small laugh she could no longer contain, as it was funny to her that now, after finally getting every feeling to pass from her lips that she should not know how to proceed with the outcome she had hoped for.

A soft clicking noise from nearby reminded Eleonora of Polaris's existence in her world, and she regretfully glanced away from Sorrow into the darkness around them. Orange eyes were incrementally closer than when she last had looked, raised up from the ground where they once lay. Polaris had moved closer, watching over her, perhaps in an attempt to make sure the creature that was embracing her meant no harm. “I think Polaris might be jealous,” she teased, turning back to Sorrow.
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PostSubject: Re: These Wounds that Will Not Heal {Sorrow}   Wed Jul 02, 2014 10:50 am



Nothing short of a shiver ran through his entire body as she settled in so perfectly against him. His hand gently cupped the head that rested in the nook of his neck; and as she breathed, he seemed to breathe in synchrony. When she looked up to him and spoke, his fingers ran through her hair and caressed her face. He smiled to her, saying nothing at first, only looking into the features that held a thousand stars for him. For a moment he wondered when he had fallen so terribly in love. He felt incredibly in comfort with her, though his frantically beating heart might have said otherwise.

His mouth moved as if he was about to speak, but the noise broke in through their little barrier and with it brought back every other sound around them; the quiet life inside the forest and the whisper of the wind. His eyes rushed to the creature that stood only a short distance away. With some regret Sorrow untangled an arm from the vision before him and slowly reached it out towards the hippogriff. “Should I be worried? I meant no offence.”

He waited a moment to see whether Polaris would allow the hand to slip through his feathers. "Shall the three of us take a walk together?"
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PostSubject: Re: These Wounds that Will Not Heal {Sorrow}   Wed Jul 23, 2014 4:19 pm

Eleonora watched as Sorrow reached out to Polaris and was surprised to find she was holding her breath, worried that Polaris might react unfavorably towards Sorrow. She was relieved, then, when he allowed the hand to slide across the soft of the feathers atop his head. She silently thanked the beast for knowing when to behave. “Worried? No...I don't think so. He remembers you, or else I doubt he would have let you get so close. He's been, well, a little aggressive lately.” She pursed her lips together, a look of concern crossing her delicate features. It passed when Sorrow's soft voice again reached her ears.

“Oh, yes, a walk sounds nice, thank you.” She took a small step away from Sorrow, headed towards the quiet lapping waves of the lake. Hesitantly, she slipped her small hand into Sorrow's, enjoying the way it chilled the warm skin of her palm. They walked to the edge of the water, the grass wet beneath their feet. Polaris trailed behind, keeping his orange eyes locked on the pair and occasionally snapping his beak at the odd owl or two that flew by overhead. Eleonora's mind was at once a mess of rushing emotions and a deep calm, depending on what she focused on. When she looked out over the water and beyond to the rising mountains she felt peaceful, yet the moment she raised her eyes to take in Sorrow, who was walking so close to her she very nearly tripped over his feet, she couldn't contain how happy and excited she felt.

“Sorrow?” She ventured, tilting her head up to look at him. The quiet had been nice, and the serene atmosphere of the lake at night was hard to break, but now that she felt more comfortable she realized there were so many things she wanted to ask the man with whom she was walking hand in hand. Knowing she had the time to, and that he would not simply stalk away from her as she had feared earlier in the evening, gave her more confidence in her voice.

“I noticed you were gone during the holidays...Did you go home? To visit your family? I don't mean to pry, but I was just wondering, because, well, I guess I don't know much about you outside of Hogwarts.” In her request was her wish for him to speak openly to her, though she understood that if he did not it was nothing she could fault him on. It was hard for her to open up to others, and she sensed the same hesitancy in Sorrow that she herself had. Perhaps it was one of the reasons she was so drawn to him; he seemed to value the privacy and intimacy of divulging his secrets and feelings to a rare select few.

“Of course you don't have to answer, and if you'd like to know the same about me, I'd be more than happy to tell you.” Her lips turned up in a mild smile, conveying her willingness to share with him anything he wished to know. It had been a long time since Eleonora had had someone to share with, and she hoped to not waste this opportunity to become closer to Sorrow.
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PostSubject: Re: These Wounds that Will Not Heal {Sorrow}   Sun Aug 17, 2014 8:37 pm



His own relief was evident when Polaris allowed the touch. His fingers traced the soft curve of the hippogriff’s neck, gently brushing the feathers back. “There, Polaris,” Sorrow whispered to the creature. He drew back his hand at Eleonora’s signal and melted away from her to walk half a step behind, letting her lead him towards the lake. His hold on her hand was but a gentle touch, a caress in absence of other physical closeness. The surface of the water rippled in the shy tickle of the wind. Faeries could have been dancing upon it. Sorrow looked ahead, occasionally stealing glances to his companion and in some time edged nearer Eleonora, only subtly aware of Polaris following, perhaps keeping a watchful eye over them, in the nature a chaperone might.

A while passed in silence, but at the call of his name he gave her full attention, if already she did not have it. He considered her question a moment, in spite of the fact that he already knew his response. At once he decided he would keep nothing from her if she asked it of him; and so long as some high matter of security did not demand otherwise. Even then, he wondered if he could deny her anything of his life. There was much he wished to share with her and more that he wished to know. Already he had placed a trust in her; a tear in his defence he had found impossible to ignore and yet so sweet to let sink teeth into, tearing further at the soft flesh beneath it. He gazed at her and her smile gave him courage; his lips formed a smile in turn. “I was away, yes,” Sorrow agreed with a short nod of his head. “Not immediately, though I kept my distance after.” His fingers curled slightly, tightening the grip around hers a moment before resuming the gentle touch. “After what had happened, I was uncertain should you want to see me.”

“I left some ten days before the end of the year. My family – rather, my clan, holds a yearly meeting each winter solstice. It is a time for many a celebration; games in which we honour each other; blessings and rituals for those who have gone from this world and those that remain.” He gave a small pause, seemingly considering his next words before continuing. “There is a political side to these events, some of it in announcements for all the clan to hear and some of a more, er, sensitive nature and better discussed in private between family heads. But all of it dreadfully boring, I assure you. Also–” My sister’s birthday and mine, he swallowed the words. Saying as much may lead to an inquiry about his current age and a part of him dreaded her reaction upon revealing that he was barely out of his eighteenth year. He was well aware that Eleonora had a couple of years on him, although how many he was still unsure.

One glance at her dissuaded him of keeping this truth from her. He had already decided that he would tell her all he could; and his age was hardly an issue of clan security. He cracked a moderately sheepish smile, appearing younger than what his solemn face usually revealed. For a moment he looked as if flashing her with a secret, appearing, in fact, just his age. “Also,” he said, “my twin and I celebrate our birthday. We even get a cake.” That last line he spiced with a chuckle, for in truth neither he nor Misery much liked cake. Yet each year their mother insisted on making one (with no small help from the cook) and the twins savoured each bite, if only to taste the love Lady Rosemary put into making the gift. “Speaking of, when is your birthday?” Sorrow asked, picking at the subject before Eleonora could question him further. He had a guess at her age, but didn’t know how to phrase his own question about it without seeming rude. As he understood it, in human society it could even be considered offensive to ask. “And how did you spend your holiday? Did you leave Hogwarts?”
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PostSubject: Re: These Wounds that Will Not Heal {Sorrow}   Mon Aug 18, 2014 3:01 am

Eleonora was absorbed with Sorrow's account of his holidays; it all sounded so grand and festive that she could nearly imagine it. The idea of a celebration including a whole family of vampires not only captured her attention because it was Sorrow who was speaking of it, but because she was fascinated with the culture she knew so little about. It seemed she would learn now, if she should wish to ask.

She waited patiently when Sorrow cut his story short and seemed to ponder over continuing. There would be no pressing for him to go on from Eleonora, as she was content with any amount of information he wished to give her. When he did continue it was with a more coy and playful expression than she had seen on him before, and the way he laughed was nearly too endearing for Eleonora to handle.

“Oh! I didn't know. Happy birthday!” Already in her mind Eleonora was planning out a way to make up for missing his birthday, even if the reason for her negligence had been due to her not being aware of the occasion.  It was curious how some questions were never brought up, or even thought of, until other urges had been fulfilled. Eleonora knew Sorrow was younger than her, though in many of their interactions he appeared wise beyond his years. She had never once thought to ask his age before now, as if it had hardly mattered. In truth, she supposed, it didn't. Already she had felt herself becoming irrevocably drawn towards him, despite her lack of every detail. Perhaps it was better that way. Not knowing left room for discovery, and Eleonora found herself looking forward to any and every discovery she could share with Sorrow.

She almost wanted to laugh at his sheepish grin, as it transformed him into something less serious and much less guarded; it was a look that Eleonora could feel herself start to fall in love with. It showed trust - a trust that she returned and vowed to value. “I”ll be twenty-five in late august. How old did you just turn?” If she had to guess, Eleonora was afraid she would be very off the mark. He was a professor, as she was, and thus he must be old enough for...well, Eleonora wasn't quite ready to delve so far in just yet.

Before she answered his next question she felt a shiver run through her body. The cold of the late winter night was finally boring its way through her and she pulled her sweater closer with her free hand. The coolness of Sorrow's skin on her other hand caused the flesh to prickle up her arm, yet she would not pull away. The pressure, light and reassuring, was not something she would voluntarily let go until she truly must. Instead she merely looked up into his eyes and spoke through lips that begged to be warmed.

“I went home for a weekend. I grew up on a farm, and it's very quiet in the winter. I used to help my parents out a lot with the work, but now that they're older, and I'm here most of the time, they hired a young man to do a lot of the hard things. I visit when I can, but,” Eleonora paused, considered her next words. She didn't know much about the views and politics of vampire clans, nor how much Sorrow himself would stick to any traditional values. He was, in no delicate terms, a creature of magical parentage, part of a family that had passed down their talents through countless generations. She knew that in these times wizards were much more lenient with those who were not pure blood, that it hardly mattered anymore, but what about to other creatures of magical descent? With a quick shift of her gaze, Eleonora was now staring out over the lake, her face turned from Sorrow. She didn't speak of her parents to many people - not because there was anything wrong with them, not in the least. Her younger life had been full of love and tenderness from them both, and in a way it still was. The divide between daughter and parents had only grown in recent years, though, and it was not something Eleonora enjoyed to bring up. Sorrow had little hesitation to her questions, however, and she had already started down the path of speaking of her family. A slight frown turned down her lips as much as she tried to contain it. “My parents...they're both muggles, so they don't really understand much of my life anymore.”

After she spoke she could only imagine what her parents would think if she told them she had just flown through the air on the back of a hippogriff and then kissed a vampire. The thought of their reactions was so absurd that she couldn't stop a small laugh from escaping, and she turned back to Sorrow. His eyes were still on her and caused the laugh to turn into another warm smile. She wanted to draw the conversation back to him then, if only to hear his voice glide over the rushing of the lake's waves. “You have a twin? That must be wonderful. Having big family occasions like that; I bet it's nice, too. Do you all get along well?” Eleonora wondered what his twin could be like, and whether it was a brother or a sister. She imagined Sorrow's striking features on a woman and at once knew that if he indeed had a sister she would be nothing less than beautiful.
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PostSubject: Re: These Wounds that Will Not Heal {Sorrow}   Tue Aug 19, 2014 3:28 pm



“Thank you,” Sorrow laughed at her wishing him a happy birthday. In truth he felt happier at that moment, with her, then at any day of his birthday in the past nineteen winters. He did not say as much out loud, but he gave her hand a small squeeze. He never thought about it much, but hearing the words from her meant to him more than the traditional congratulations that formed upon lips of hundreds of vampires. To them, the celebration was a part of a ritual. Eleonora looked like she honestly wished him a happy birthday. And it was so simple; so human, like a precious gift that he could accept with open arms. He felt his fingers prickle as if charged with electricity and wondered what else her honesty might do to him. He felt his heart beating in his fingertips, alive with love.

Five years. He caught himself in a small shock and shook his head a little in wonder. He had no idea he had a thing for older women. He supposed not knowing the exact number made it less real. Briefly he wondered what the proper human label was for a younger man, such as himself, who liked an older woman. It was a small difference by vampire standards, one hardly even worthy of notice; it was equally amusing to try and look at the number from a human perspective. Half a decade. His lip curled into a smile and he said, “Nineteen.”

He felt her shiver against him and relaxed his fingers, slipping his hand from hers. Instead he picked up his arm and wrapped it around her shoulders, applying gentle pressure to bring them closer as they walked. His skin may have been cooler than that of an ordinary being, but it did not mean he never felt the cold. His cloak now hung partly around Eleonora as well and the soft fur on the inside radiated warmth. It was a gift from his sister. He supposed she had enchanted it herself.

Quietly he listened as she spoke of her parents. In the pause he looked to her, but said nothing; he had no intention of pressing her to reveal something outside her own pace or comfort. Only the soft expression in his eyes begged her to trust him. She had turned away from him, however, and could not see it. Or the pang of hurt as a frown seemed to twist her lips. “You—” he said, then closed his mouth. He was not sure what he wanted to say yet. Was it strange that magic was real? It was different from him, though not entirely.

She laughed suddenly and her eyes found his. His expression quickly changed to patience, but the change of conversation was too abrupt. Too obvious. At last he said, “If I was human, my parents would be muggles too.” It was true; Adair and Rosemary had no magic. Neither did their parents. The last Grace with magic before Sorrow’s generation had been Lord Aodhan. His great-grandfather. Not all vampires understood magic as he did either. Not all believed in it. “Vampires do not have a word for it, but it is what they are.” Sorrow was not sure why he said it like that, but if Eleonora feared his thoughts on ancestry and blood-purity, he hoped it might show it did not matter. Not in the slightest. Not to him. He did not say more of it; though aware he had not given proper reply to her question about his family or his sister. He was more concerned by the expression she had worn.

She must love her parents; must miss them. She may have visited them, but what did they know of her life? Saying something without them understanding was equal to saying nothing at all. Not sharing with her parents had a scent of disappointment. It tasted lonely. “Is it the magic?” He caught himself pressing despite his earlier decision. “Or is it the life you lead; the work you do that they do not understand?” Perhaps it was a problem he could not fix. Eleonora did not look like she wanted to talk about it further. Perhaps she needed to. He stopped her with his free arm and lifted his hand to her cheek. He looked to her and hoped to find her eyes. “You need not tell me. But know that I will listen.”
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PostSubject: Re: These Wounds that Will Not Heal {Sorrow}   Fri Nov 28, 2014 3:38 am

The slight pause of shock before Sorrow answered her question went unnoticed by Nora, though she suffered her own upon hearing his words.

“You don't seem nineteen,” she said, searching his face for any indication of such a young age. Perhaps it was his vampire heritage, but just by looking Nora could not determine how old Sorrow physically appeared. He was all sharp lines and flawless complexion – nothing hinting at either youth or age. It took a moment for her to realize she had fallen yet again into the trap of gazing too intently at the man beside her, and quickly looked away.

Was what she had said offensive? Nora didn't think so, though she was never sure of these things. It could be easily misconstrued, and so hastily she attempted to make clear just what she meant. “Not that that is bad, or really even good. It's just a observation. You're very...” Mature? Grounded? “You're very different from anyone I've met.”

“I hope no one thinks I am robbing the cradle, though.” Nora hazarded a joke, albeit a small one. She hoped that Sorrow would not be sensitive about the topic, as it mattered little to her. What was five years in the span of a life time? He could have been thirty years her elder and Nora would not have blanched at her feelings. What was important was that they were compatible, and they both felt passion for the other. Most else was irrelevant in Nora's opinion.

Sorrow must have felt her shiver then, or the cool of her hands, for he placed his arm around her and drew her close to his side. The warmth of his coat – fur lined and plush – drew the cold from her and replaced it with comfort. She tilted her face up to watch him as he spoke of his family, revealing again how little she knew of him. By the careful way he spoke Nora could tell he was doing his best to put her at ease, and it of course was succeeding. He was so sincere in his concern that she now found herself willing to continue the conversation.

“Oh, no, it's not the work. I tell them I work with animals, they understand that. It's always been something I've been into, so it's easy for them to imagine.” She glanced to Polaris, who was happily stalking something in the reeds of the lake. Her mind began to drift to years past, and when she spoke again her words were quiet.

“It's just...well, when I got my Hogwarts letter as a kid it was a bit much. A whole new world to just believe in is a lot. For a child, like I was, it was easy. Adults though...I can't imagine how difficult it must have been for them. To shift a world view so thoroughly, so suddenly.” Her words trailed off as she looked again across the lake. She had not thought of her childhood for some time; it was simpler to leave it were it belonged. “I think they like to pretend things are different. That I'm some normal girl who works in the city still; that daughter who visits on holidays and talks about how things used to be. As they get older maybe it's easier for them that way. They don't need to try understand anymore – it's not like they are still raising me. They can just push it all away now, act like it never happened...”

Nora did not blame them. They had tried, when she was a girl, to listen to her talk about unicorns and shrinking spells each summer, but since she could not show them without getting expelled it was hard for them to truly believe. As the years progressed she told them less and less, if only to make it easier for them. Now she had little she could say, and her visits were often short and lacking much substance.

With a slight shake of her head, her hair brushing against Sorrow as it shifted, she broke away from her reverie. “I'm sorry; I didn't mean to go on for so long.” She could not help but notice that it felt good to confide in Sorrow. Never had she told anyone her feelings about her parents and their situation, and she wondered over how easily she spoke of it now.

“Thank you, though. For listening.” She pushed up onto her toes and kissed his check lightly, amazed at how natural it felt already.  

As she had spoke they had wandered to the edge of the lake. The stars were reflected in the water, and again in Nora's eyes as she turned them to Sorrow's. “If there's ever something you want to talk about, too, I'll be more than happy to be there.” A sweet smile transformed her face, conveying all the sincerity in her heart.
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Hogwarts Reborn: Harry Potter RPG :: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry :: School Grounds :: Black Lake-
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