bad omen.

biography.     statistics.     pinterest.     noxtms.

𝙷𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙲𝙰𝙽𝙾𝙽  𝙼𝙴𝙼𝙴  »  currently  not  accepting  !

"  that’s  my  mums  fault,  ”  they  tell  him,  tersely,  their  annoyance  directed  at  the  exact  spot  in  the  ceiling  that  nettie  warren  had  ascended  through  mere  moments  before  polyneices  had  entered  the  living  room.  catherine  had  never  been  a  DIFFICULT  child  -  and  couldn’t  exactly  be  called  a  difficult  adult,  either  -  but  their  mothers  inability  to  see  them  as  a  full  fledged  human  had  started  to  grate,  at  times.  they  reminded  themself  constantly  that  nettie  had  only  their  best  interests  at  heart,  and  could  not  escape  the  nagging  voice  far,  far  at  the  back  of  their  mind  that  asked  ‘  without  a  steady  beating,  how  much  could  those  REALLY  be  trusted  in  the  first  place  ?  ‘  it  was  the  journey  every  child  had  to  go  on  at  some  point,  perhaps,  but  to  the  eye  of  someone  perpetually out  of  the  loop  in  regards  to  the  mostly  dead  (  but  NOT  entirely  )  matriarch  of  the  moody  -  warren  family,  it  looked  a  lot  like  catherine’s  irritation  was  directed  towards  a  signed  &  framed  photo  of  ricky  martin.  “  sorry.  did  you  need  something  ?  ”

for catherine, saying thank you never feels like its enough. it’s even worse in this moment. they wish that they knew what to say to tempest to ease some of their pain, but they can’t think of a single thing that they wouldn’t have already heard and honestly, they know from experience that words rarely ever help. the best they can do is to avoid looking upon them with too much pity in their eyes and, when asked, provide a friendly smile and an explanation, even if the story isn’t much. “she lost an eye in an apparation accident,” a breezy shrug, an inability to see where one of their grandmother’s legitimate faux eyes may be a little strange, “this one was my favorite. it has gold around the iris, see ?” they hold it up to the light by the attached metal ring, allowing it to shine through.

“  i...-  that’s  disgusting,  ”  there  goes  another  instance  of  wren  stating  the  obvious,  this  time  with  a  look  of  revulsion  directed  at  his  back  and  plain  to  read  across  her  face  -  if  only  the  lights  hadn’t  been  turned  out.  she  tries  not  to  judge  (  doesn’t  see  a  point  in  it,  really,  has  been  on  the  opposite  end  of  criticism  enough  times  to  know  that  all  it  does  is  hurt  )  but  expects  he  knows how  horrible  that  sounds  and  is  -  probably  -  just  owning  it,  as  life  decisions  go.  she  can’t  imagine  it  was  nice.  more  likely  all  it  did  was  make  the  cereal  (  she’s  imagining  cornflakes,  though  she’s  not  sure  )  soggy,  and  it’s  only  when  she  feels  a  shiver  run  up  her  spine  at  the  thought  that  she  remembers  their  predicament  and  the  fact  that  if  they  don’t  move  along  soon  enough,  peeves  will  undoubtedly  come  back  for  seconds.  “  you  don’t  sound  confident,  ”  but  still,  she  reaches  out  to  grip  his  sleeve  and  tug  him  towards  the  left,  just  in  case  he  misses  her  starting  to  move  off  and  is  left  all  alone.  aloud,  she  muses,  “  i  don’t  know  where  a  poltergeist  could  have  gotten  his  hands  on  peruvian  instant  darkness  powder...  ”

it  made  sense,  initially,  to  fall  into  step  beside  one  another.  they  had  to  travel  in  much  the  same  direction  to  get  to  the  guest  quarters  of  their  previous  houses,  breaking  away  only  on  the  final  stretch.  between  the  simplicity  of  the  directions  given  to  them  and  the  fact  that  catherine  had  left  hogwarts  far  more  recently  than  seamus,  there  should’ve  been  a  pretty  low  possibility  of  a  wrong  turn  -  but  that  fact  hadn’t  stopped  them  from  ending  up  in  one  of  the  corridors  with  their  rows  of  statues,  and  a  gleeful  cackle  had  given  them  enough  warning  that  something  was  about  to  go  even  more  grossly  wrong  BEFORE  the  lights  flickered  out.  “  peeves,  ”  she  states  the  obvious,  moving  to  stand  a  little  closer  to  him  in  the  hope  that  if  she  did,  she’d  be  protected  from  whatever  the  poltergeist  planned  next  (  even  if  it  meant  vaguely  sacrificing  seamus  to  it,  instead  ).  “  i’ve  gotten  turned  around.  do  you  remember  the  way  we  came  in  ?  ”

they suppose tempest knows that better than anyone, lately. catherine’s odd, but they’re not an idiot. though that thought does cross their mind, they don’t put it into words because that would be cruel, and potentially dragging up fairly complicated feelings regarding their sisters recent murder - if they’re anything like gracie, and they have no reason to know otherwise, just mentioning the events of the apothecary could be ruinous. best to keep comments to a minimal. and, granted, these are fairly heavy thoughts to be wrestling with just because they stooped to pick up their broken bag charm. catherine always ends up over complicating stuff, but that’s next level. “well, thank you,” they tell them, earnestly, clasping both hands over tempest’s to try and convey the depth of their gratitude before they take the charm, a porcelain eyeball with a now broken chain, “not many people would’ve stopped me, and this one has sentimental value. it belonged to my grandmother.” 

𝚂𝙼𝙰𝙻𝙻 𝙳𝙴𝚃𝙰𝙸𝙻 𝙷𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙲𝙰𝙽𝙾𝙽𝚂  »  currently not accepting  !

“nobody has to know,” she assures her in a somber tone, further recognition a slow but steady thing. she knows them all so passingly, but luca crops up more than most ; grace spends so much time with her, and though it is a part of her life that catherine is kept far from, she’s never been anything as much as she is attentive. it seems like the sort of thing that her elder sibling might want to know, but there’s no danger of catherine going back on the promise she makes with such ease. this isn’t her business. “i’ll get you sitting,” she says for no real reason other than to fill the silence, not of her own discomfort but for any residual of adora’s, and then, phrased like a question, “and then... i should get you some water...?”

“stronger is better,” they say with the exact same air they would if they were agreeing with something, which they kind of, sort of, are. the derby had been terrifying, but catherine has been doing a fairly good job at compartmentalising and moving onward ; though they won’t allow dennis undo that, they do allow what is meant to be a reassuring, “soon you’ll have better memories. and probably worse. but that’s very normal, and mostly to be expected.”

“i don’t know what that means,” they admit, though it makes sense to them. they don’t know MUCH about photography, but they imagine if there’s different level of camera, the same has to be said for straps. “but that’s good. i don’t... think we’ll see a repeat of the derby. but you can never be too certain.”

they were housemates, once. it feels like a lifetime ago, but catherine remembers adora well enough to at least be aware of her usual coloring, which is not sheet white. her concern is a quiet thing, difficult for her to convey and not helped by a tendency to state the overly obvious - “you don’t look very good, “ - but real enough for her to offer an arm despite her own discomfort with such a thing, “c’mon. it’s a bit quieter off the main street.” 

sure,  there’s  derby  trauma  to  factor  in,  but  catherine’s  issue  with  the  water  barrels  that  she  idles  before  is  less  attached  to  that  than  it  is  to  the  fact  that  even  for  her,  it’s  much  too  cold  to  enjoy.  with  gracie  at  her  side,  she  trusts  that  they  would  find  something  thrilling  in  the  carnival  games  to  enjoy  as  well  as  humor  in  the  way  a  teen  attendant  has  spent  time  &  energy  magically  dyeing  apples  from  bright  red  to  pure  white  for  the  ill  conceived  ‘  bobbing  for  snowballs  ‘  stand.  without  her,  catherine  is  five  times  more  judgemental,  ten  times  more  stoic  &  twenty  times  more  difficult  to  entertain  ;  she  shakes  her  head  when  asked  would  she  like  a  turn  for  a  galleon,  but  turns  to  the  innocent,  malkin  bystander  to  remark,  “  you  should  try.  you’ll  be  good  at  it.  ”