counting up my demons || florence & ophelia
16:00, May 8th, 1979 Cemetery @florence-wilson
Somber grey fog hung over the sky with the bitter reminder that while they might’ve stood victorious just a few short days ago, there was still progress to be made within the wizarding world. The graves surrounding them attested to that fact with their slabs of stone, so many of which bore the mark of recent dates. But today she was there for support, none of her own relatives resting in the small cemetery, and truly -- she hadn’t even known the woman whose grave she’d placed flowers upon all that well. Her encounters with the Wilson family mainly in support of Florence, her visits growing more frequent as the other girl had given up her training and her mother’s condition worsened.
Her arm hooked tight around the other girls’ arm as a source of comfort. She didn’t have many friends -- and while theirs might have blossomed more during their time after Hogwarts, Ophelia was as grateful for it as she was for those people she’d known far longer. Not many people were willing to discuss politics and philosophy and intellectual subjects all in one sitting and stay attentive for it throughout, but Florence always had. Urging her to think more deeply on how she saw the world and wether or not she could continue staying on the outskirts of the war. Difficult subjects for which there was no clear answer, and in turn she’d attempted to offer up whatever solace she could. After all, grief wasn’t something one ought to struggle through alone, even when it was difficult to make sense of a tragedy -- but right now she stood in silence, not wanting to disturb Florence’s thoughts with idle chatter or the offer to go to some small cafe for a spot of tea.
