#omenbrought

THE  KITCHEN  ALWAYS  SEEMED  EMPTY   :       wren’s  socked  feet  find  themselves  there  every  morning,   radio  turned  on,    food  sizzling  away  behind  her       (       six  days  of  offering  food  to  rosalie  and  still  no  bite       ---       did  her  sausages  really  look  that  gross?     NOTE  TO  SELF   :       stop  burning  everything  you  cook       ).       the  pancakes  are  plated,   whipped  cream  piled  to  the  side,   and  almost  spilled  all  across  the  floor  when  wren  turns  to  see  rosalie  stood  beside  her   :       JESUS.       ‘       how  do  you  walk  so  quietly?    i  mean,   it’s  impressive,    you’re  gonna  have  to  teach  me  at  some  point,    so  i  can  strike  the  fear  of  god  into  everyone  i  meet.     do  you  want  some  pancakes?      ‘

(     *     SKULDUGGERY PLEASANT PROMPTS   !  @omenbrought​ said :  ❛ you could have been killed. ❜

     𝙱𝙻𝙾𝙾𝙳 𝚁𝚄𝙽𝚂 𝙳𝙾𝚆𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚂𝙸𝙳𝙴 𝙾𝙵 𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙵𝙰𝙲𝙴, but there’s a smile pulling on his lips. He knows the Carrows have it out for him and the D.A. but what could they really do that Neville hadn’t already faced? He’s been at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange and survived. There’s a point where he starts to feel invincible and he knows he needs to reel it in lest his cockiness gets the best of him.

❝ Yeah... I know. ❞ He plops himself down, hand running across his face and smearing blood, sweat, and dirt on the back of his cardigan. He thinks it’s worth it. After all, they have a new member. Head lifts to look at the shaking first year that still clings to his robes. 

𝙱𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚉𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚗𝚒 & 𝙰𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚊 𝙶𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚟𝚊𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙰𝚕𝚙𝚜, after Mrs. Zabini forced him to meet her new husband so he had to bring Astoria along to keep him sane. 

           IT’S SOMETHING SHE THOUGHT SHE WANTED TO HEAR,   but as the words from Anna’s resolute voice wash over her she realizes -- maybe she doesn’t.  she casts a quick glance at her hands,  pale and bare at her sides,  so innocent looking despite what power they concealed.  she thinks back over the years she’d spent locked away,  the things she’d heard Anna whisper through the door.  the sensation of painted wood against her back haunts her still.  the sight of Anna’s crystallized eyes,  her stiff body -- those images plague her even worse.  freed as she may be from the kind of chains that had held her down so long,  she will never take for granted the thing she’s capable of.  she will never be perfectly pieced back together.

          “ I am,  actually. ”   the flat tone surprises even her for a moment,  the mark of a kind of assurance she’s never known before.  it strikes her as funny almost,  that the first real sense of confidence she’s ever felt is in asserting her brokenness.  but there’s a kind of power in that too.  her fingers curl at her sides,  the quiet hum of the cold reverberating against her skin.  “ there are things I will never properly recover from.  there’s too much we can’t undo. ”   it would be foolish to try and deny her splintered edges when they shine so obviously in the winter sun.  and she doesn’t want to.  they’re scars, ugly and painful, but they’re also markers of who she is now,  pieces of her soul that have found their way to the light. 

           “ I don’t think you or I are better for it, ”   the very notion is an asinine one to her mind, the mere suggestion turning her stomach.  there is no justification,  not explanation for the things they had been forced to see as children.  there is no reason they should be where they are now.  but they are.  “ but I think it’s better to acknowledge what I am than pretend it isn’t there.  that’s the only way I know how to move forward.  no more lying.  I’ve lied enough to you. ”  ( and I think you’ve more than proven yourself capable of handling truth. )  her throat tightens -- how old Anna seems to her now.  it strikes her,  as she sees the grace and maturity her sister as grown into,  just how much she’s missed.   “ and I won’t ever do that again. ”

             “ ABSOLUTELY NOT. ”    she doesn’t even hesitate before saying it.  years of history keep her from reaching for Anna,  but her words will land on her sister with same intensity as touch.   the thought of Anna going out on this quest ALONE,  it turns her stomach.   she wants Hans punished as much as Anna,  if not more,  but she won’t risk her sister’s life.  ( not ever again. not even if she has to give her own. )   

              but another side of her refuses to chain Anna with the same kind of fear her parents had.  walls and doors and locks and keys offer no real safety ---- they both know that all too well.  no,  she has no authority to forbid her sister from going after this;  and,  knowing Anna,  she likely couldn’t even if she desperately wanted to.  the choice hovers over her, clear as ice.          

             “ I’m going with you, ”   Elsa asserts,  mind whirling with the preparations,  the risks,   the war she could be inciting with her presence.  queens do not go after their own vendettas.  queens are not vengeful creatures.  that haunted look in Anna’s eyes prods at the cracks in her surface,  though.  ( when have you ever been a perfect queen ? )