[ astronomy tower. 25 januardy 2031. @nprisc ]
the astronomy tower wore its emptiness like an open wound. the room felt different now that the telescopes had been removed — barer, colder, like everything else the war had touched. lila pressed her spine against the parapet, knees pulled to her chest, trying to find solitude in the quiet night air. but peace wouldn't come, not when her mind kept dragging her back to the dungeons. a looping nightmare, her body refusing to stir itself awake. abi falling — the distance too great, her legs too slow, her magic too weak. the killing curse had painted the stone walls an impossible green, a color that didn't belong in nature, didn't belong anywhere but in her nightmares. then came the sound of stone giving way, and abi's last, desperate gasp. that sound followed her now, echoing through dark & empty corridors, haunting her dreams and waking hours. another person she'd failed to protect. another name to carve into her conscience, alongside her father's, alongside hagrid's. the list kept growing, and she was so tired of watching people die.
abi had been there from the first meeting of the knights, the sturdy glue that held them together with her brilliant mind & quiet determination. she'd been the voice of reason that stopped them from charging ahead, kept them from falling into the abyss of their own rage. they'd balanced each other perfectly — lila's fire & abi's pragmatism, impulse & reason. now she was gone, and the world brutally, bitterly kept on turning. the knights were her responsibility, her chosen family, but they kept slipping through her fingers like water, like smoke. she should have been better, faster, stronger. should have found another way. there was too much that she should have done, too many moments she'd repeat in her mind long after death. there'd be no peace for her, not after this, not after everything she'd done. ( she'd let him go. she'd seen what he'd done, met his eyes in the bitter dark, and she'd chosen to let him go. )
a footstep on the stairs cut through her spiral of regret. her hand moved to her wand out of raw instinct, before her brain caught itself up. she recognized that walk, could have picked it out of a thousand others. “ you shouldn't be here, " she murmured, her voice stripped of its usual sharp edges. “ they're watching us all, especially now. it's not safe for you. ”
a short pause. a breath that carried the weight of too many war wounds, too many graves, too little hope. a moment of vulnerability seeping through her brass. it'd been weeks since the last time they'd been able to find a quiet moment to properly speak — were the two of them too far apart now to find comfort in each other's arms? “ i miss her too, pris. ” i miss how it used to be between us all. i miss everything.