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[attr="class","title-vi"] I'm Gone

[attr="class","subtitle-vi"] Oh, the way is dark and long
But I’m already gone. . .

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CW: SUICIDAL THOUGHTS

Violet was out, at last.

The Hospital Wing had been. . .crowded and awkward and she’d hated that she was in there. She was relatively lucky, in that she’d been on the shorter side of . . mostly everything. That wasn’t to say it had been easy in the fever stage or the flickering, but Violet was out, and. . .

Gone.

Her magic was over and done, and she would probably never have it again. She knew she didn’t necessary need it for being an archaeologist, but no longer could she be a Curse-Breaker. Runes, thankfully, she could still read and write them, but. . .

She could no longer fly. And maybe that was a good thing, or maybe it wasn’t because Violet had been leaning on that, relying on it ever since she’d realized that she could fly to feel something, where she could close her eyes and consider that maybe she wouldn’t pull up this time--

It was good, maybe, that they didn’t have a somewhat suicidal Seeker. Her replacement was better, younger, and less like her. Well, she really still could fly, in that she could fall, but that was different, and that-- Arthur would be upset and Clio would be upset. But Clio still had her magic, and Arthur didn’t, and not that she was bitter or jealous about it, she just. . .

It had always been easy to say that she didn’t need magic when it had been at her hands. But with it gone, things felt heavier, weaker. She didn’t know how to describe it, other than depression, really. Not that she felt particularly more depressed, more like she had depression laying thick on her, fuzzing and heavy.

Like when she found out her mother was missing and she’d had trouble getting out of bed. Or when Mina had told her Phoebe died after she was taken from Hogwarts, or when she found out Mina was also dead, or day after day, when she was struggling the denial and acceptance of her mother’s likely-death-- even though she’d turned out not to be.

And maybe she could go to Clio and sit with her, and she knew she should, but she’d see Clio later. So she’d just wander and--

Violet hadn’t been paying attention to where she was going, and so her shoulder had rammed into a student, she’d stumbled off course, and then into Ollivander Galinski. “I--” Her face flushed a dull red. Because of course it was the one student she had a crush on, and it wasn’t fair, and maybe she really should have gone to Clio first because now she wanted to run away but her feet were frozen. “Hi. Sorry? I didn’t mean to.”

[attr="class","tags-vi"]☆ Violet Gertrude Stroud, 448 words ☆

[attr="class","credz1"]❤fai

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Ollivander passed under the thick branches of the large tree, only having to duck to avoid one low hanging branch. It was early evening, a week after she had found her letter addressed to her sister and had a run in with the boy, Helenus, in the Owlery. The bright stars were just starting to peep out through the orange glow of evening.

She took note that it was a similar shade that had fallen onto the Owlery a week ago. Nothing significant had come out of their exchange, a few words said here, a few words said there. Even with the lack of words Ollie had felt a pull towards the boy. Maybe it was their mutual understanding of loss or his awkwardly apologetic existence. Whatever the case, she had found comfort in his company, which was not something she was willing to admit to anyone let alone herself.

After their exchange, she had not returned to the Owlery for a number of reasons. One, having to face Elma. Two, send a letter to her Papa. Three, the possibility of running into Helenus again. He didn't per se frighten her, but she was not well acquainted with feelings of comfort and liked to keep everything at an arm's length, especially people. It had taken her some time to realize how ridicules she was being but she got there in her own time. After finishing her up with a class for the afternoon she wrote out a carefully worded letter to her father and was on her way to the Owlery, complete consumed with the details in the letter that was pressed inside the side pocket of her jacket.

She hadn't said anything of significance. Just your good hello, how are you since Lena has passed, have you found a job to motivate you to get out of bed in the morning, how's the house do you leave it?, how's Lyudmila is the kneazle enough company or does it hurt to look at her, how's everything is there something you're not telling me again?. But in a more carefully crafted way with elegance in both her words and writing.

She missed her Papa dearly. But she did not miss her home. There was nothing there anymore. Just walls of memories that were sometimes too painful to fully face and process. She was grieving and she understood it was a process in its own time and that perhaps her opinion would change in a month's time but she did not want to revisit the cottage where Lena passed and her Mother disappeared.

A sigh pressed past her bowed lips as she crossed the Transfiguration Courtyard with wide strides. It had been some time since she had practiced in the Transfiguration Courtyard which was even a surprise to herself considering that it seemed one of the only things you could always find her studying. She had herbology in an hour, maybe she could...

Ollie had been looking forward, she really was, and she saw the whole scene unfold before her. The girl walking in front of her, the boy passing by and shouldering past her, her stumbling into Ollie. Still, the 7th year student bumping into her came at a great surprise. Her arms stretched out instinctively as she stumbled, making an effort to try and ready the girl and prevent her from falling as well as herself. Anger boiled inside of her before they could both recover and regain their balance. She had never grown accustomed to the shouldering and rushing of the crowds of students. She came from the countryside of Poland where folks seemed to respect other's space a lot more than they did elsewhere... Ollivander saw all of the hustle, bustle, crowding and shoving as pure rudeness and she would not stand for it.

Hand still on Violet's shoulder she spun around to face the other student who was now walking away. "Obejrzyj to!" She spat angrily after the student, her face burning red with rage. "Głupia gęś!" She cursed, shouting after the student with no regard for the volume and tone she was using. In her mind he deserved the back of her hand to his głupi head.

Ollie spitted more insults under her breath as she turned to the girl, Violet. Her hand tightened slightly on the girl's shoulder as she gave her a slight shake, "Ah, you good?" she inquired. Her English was getting better with each passing year but her accent still cringed stubbornly to each word. Maybe if she hadn't been so stubborn when she was younger and her Papa was trying to teach her German and English, her accent wouldn't be so thick.

She allowed her hand to fall from her shoulder, suddenly aware that she was touching her, and returned them to the pockets of her coat her cheeks slightly burning. An inward sigh pressed as she breathed in the girl that stood in front of her. It was Violet Gertrude Stroud . They use to attend the same classes when they were in the same year before Ollivander had to leave. She recalled thinking that Violet was a brilliant flyer when she had first noticed her some years ago, beautiful even. They use to frequent the same study groups and had a few run-ins at the library where they exchanged small talk to fill up the silence. Ollivander had enjoyed all of their exchanges, but she could tell that this was the first time they were very much aware of each other's presence without the distraction of class, study groups, books, and things of that such.

"These boys... pulp for brains. They're no good." she shook her head, her nose slightly scrunching in disapproval. Her almond eyes only held a slight twinge of annoyance but it faded as she looked back to Violet. Ollie easily noticed the redness in Violet's face and took it as embarrassment. There was no need to be embarrassed, especially when everyone seemed to fancy shoving one another. She felt a flicker of sympathy for her, there was nothing to feel bad about.

"No need to be sorry. You okay?" She inquired again as she breathed in the whatever heaviness was wafting off of Violet. She didn't know her all too well so there was no need for prying but she could feel whatever heaviness was weighing down upon her.

Violet Gertrude Stroud | words: 1070