drowning in seas of fire.

by clicking the link below, you’ll be redirected to a google doc with my short-form introductions & links to my full introductions! feel free to give these a read rather than my long intros, especially if you want to get a quick impression of my characters <3

Sophie: [ looking ahead ] Who, Diomedes?

Z: That’s not Diomedes, that’s Cassius.

Arlo couldn’t help but smile when Danielle insisted she had waited for him. It was basic etiquette to wait for company before beginning to eat or drink, but he hadn’t expected it from her. Not given her current state, not given everything she had been through. Maybe some things just never left you. He wasn’t sure he was ever going to shake his upbringing. “Oh- forgive me- would you like me to order for us? I don’t mind.” He immediately felt guilty, he should have offered before sitting down. But he knew she would never blame him for being distracted. They were both taking risks, they were both in a place they most definitely shouldn’t be.  “Hm, lots of sugar does sound incredibly appealing.” He agreed, chewing on his bottom lip as he considered what he might like to drink. His stomach was churning, as it always did when he broke the rules, but he knew that would pass. “Perhaps a macchiato? I’m not sure how much sugar is in a macchiato, but they are sweet.” He continued to talk through his choice, it was far easier to do that than immediately discuss the darker aspects of their life. 

She shakes her head, “No, no, don’t worry, someone will come by soon, I’m sure.” Dani’s eyes flash around the small cafe again, and she’s glad for the fact that she had picked a table in the corner. Her eyes look over Arlo, then, and she wonders what his parents have said about her. It’s an almost laughable thought, the idea that some of the parents of her fellow young Death Eaters might consider her a bad influence, when it feels like there’s nothing she can even influence. A wispy thing, that’s all she is now, wanting to fade away. For a moment, she retreats inside herself, which is something that didn’t tend to happen before.

Dani picks up a menu, scans it. “Hmm, a macchiato,” she hums. She tells herself to be brighter, to be who she always is: something warm and sparkling. In stead, she focuses intently on the drink options. “Maybe with some whipped cream on top, yeah?” Dani looks at Arlo, and curls her lips into a mischievous smile. It’s unconvincing. “Or we could just go hard and go for an Irish coffee, y’know.” This is all distraction, white noise to keep her mind from all that has happened from the past few days. She wants to ask Arlo how it’s been, how he’s been, what he wants; if anything. But her mouth’s not sure yet, how to form the right sentences. 

Esmeralda lets out a soft huff. My husband. She hated that she was still married to him. “It most certainly has. I’m clearly the better blonde”

“Oh, you most definitely are. I’m the best, of course, no competition,” Narcissa says, living up to her name. “Together, though, we’re clearly the best ones.”

“Throw in a redbull and a vodka and I’m so in,” Calisto says with a smirk, “Probably taste awful, but it would do plenty.”

“No, take that back, that’s coffee blasphemy right there,” Erin says, and a smile plays at her lips. “I mean, a vodka-redbull is fine on its own, even if it’s horribly sweet, but to put that in a perfectly good cup of coffee? No. No.”

“I-i think th-that people know…they know, it’s, um, it’s tack-tacky,” he says, turning his head as he watches the decor, “The-the lights are beau-beautiful, though, um, I have s-some in my flat year r-r-round. Um, I love fairy li-lights.”

“Bullshit. I’m sure most people think Christmas decorations are the shit, which just shows that most people lack taste,” Kimiko says, eyes transfixed on the lights still. “Now that’s cool, though. You got the white ones or the ones with multiple colours? Maybe I’ll buy –” Or, well, let’s be honest: steal. “– some.”

She hugs Felix back, she’d be lying if she had said she wasn’t worried about him during this whole time, her and her cousins have always been close, especially due to how large their family is. “I’ve been meaning to visit him all day, I just don’t think I’ll be able to do it alone, especially in his state.” She admitted, she was glad her brother was okay, but she wasn’t sure she would be able to see him injured.

Roxanne looks at all the damage that happened to the store, feeling bad that she wasn’t there to help her brother when she could, but glad that no one got too badly hurt. “They really did a number on this place, huh?” She asked before then nodding, it was better than staring up at the window. “Yeah, I think tomorrow’s the best day to fix the damages, family time is far more important honestly.”

Felix nods, bites his lip. “Don’t blame you at all. Hospitals are shit places, especially when there’s a loved one in there.” Or multiple, in their case. He tries not to think too much about the sheer number of family members that are lying in St Mungo’s at the moment. In stead, he just tries to think about the fact that they’re all still alive, against all obvious odds. “We’ll be together, yeah?” He gives Roxanne a small, comforting smile.

“Yeah. Bunch of fuckers,” he bristles, opening the door leading to the stairs to Fred and his small flat. At least they’re off the streets, then, no longer in that place laced with memories of flashing lights and screams. Felix hurries up the steps, wanting to get this over with, and looks at Roxanne over his shoulder. “You’re right, yeah. I’m sure we’ll see a bunch of them at the hospital. I think grandma’s been there all night.”

Susan wishes she could say it’s all business. Walking in to see a war colleague, do her job as an Order member, make sure she was in one piece and that information was all in place. Crossing that curtain, she wished she could leave her tender heart in the waiting room, even if just for the first few minutes, to save herself some heartache. It did not work as the sight of Luna’s extended hand brought her immediately to tears. Thankfully, most Order members had learned to ignore that by now. Fingers locked with hers, Susan’s hand is cold from the outside London winter, and her smile is ever present, even if tears drop onto the other’s hospital sheets as Susan perches herself on the very edge of the bed, unwilling to let go even if just to put her bag or coat down. “I knew there was some sense to keeping them.” They really were fighting the same war. Over thirty years later - same trinkets, same partners. “Nothing yet.” It was a haunting feeling, and she could sense it pilling on top of their chests, cracking their ribs. “But we’re all working on it. It’s going to be alright.” How often had she repeated that? At least Luna believed her, she hoped. Fewer and fewer did. Something the two had always shared, even when Lovegood was just the odd younger girl at meetings was an undying sense of hope. Some light in a terribly dangerous tunnel. “And hello.” A light chuckle left her, as Susan never bothered with such things, but Luna making a point of throwing it in there somewhere was an accidental reminder to ‘slow down’ just a bit and refocus on the room they were in. “I came as fast as I could. How do you feel?” Her eyes scanned Luna but quickly stopped before tears started falling again. “When can you leave? Do you have a day yet? Who’s your healer?” Back to her mission, even if her mission was micro-manage her friend’s recovery for just a bit. “You look tired - are they feeding you properly? I should have sneaked something in on the way.”

She does not mind Susan’s tears. Luna wishes she could cry herself, but that has always been hard for her –– not because she thinks there’s something shameful about showing emotions, but because something always seems to cover them. A veil, something vague and translucent. “There’s often sense in keeping things,” she says vaguely. The memory of Seamus and Tony rushing to Rolf and hers rescue was one laced with a feeling of relief, still. And hope, hope too. It’s easier to cling such things around Susan, who shares a tendency towards optimism with her. Luna is glad for it. It’s hard to hope, though, when it comes to Hermione. The Death Eaters had killed Harry and Kingsley and countless others without hesitation, after all. Luna tries not to think of a world where her grief has to grow again. She doesn’t fully respond to Susan’s words, not wanting to dismiss the hope she tries to give her. On one hand, she wants to cling to it. On another, she thinks it might ruin her. “I miss her.”

Susan’s questions are somewhat dizzying, and Luna lets them fall on her like warm summer rain on bare skin. Her eyes close for a second, and she looks at her friend for a moment with an endlessly sad expression. “I’m going to be okay Susan,” Luna says, and it’s true. The damage done hadn’t been too severe, and she was sure that even the mental toll this was taking would be something she could handle. Even if her head felt heavy with it all. Even if she worried, at times, that maybe she would always feel like she was sleepwalking. She’s most worried about Rolf, in all honesty, and she says as much: “I worry about Rolf.” Her mouth closes again for a moment. “I’ll be out of here soon enough though, and so will he, I’m sure.” Luna knows that the only reasons their injuries are so manageable is because their attackers had not meant to cause any lasting damage: they had meant to kill them. “How’s everyone else? Are their homes safe? We should put up more wards.”

Terrence inhales and straightens, frowning thoughtfully, “No, not many of them. The younger ones, though, likely don’t understand the full gravity of it. If they do, they haven’t spoken to me as much about it.” He didn’t have the same experience, not as these kids, but he definitely didn’t understand what was happening in his first year. At her second statement, he exhales heavily, “What is scarier still is how many of them are…more directly aware. It is heartbreaking to imagine,” he swallows, shaking his head before taking a sip of his tea. It was impossible to know the inner machinations of each and every one of his student’s lives. Still, he knew some of them would be connected to people they may lose because of this.

“I mean, I sometimes doubt I’m able to grasp the full gravity of it all. I’m assuming for most of the students, especially the younger ones, that is the case.” And whether that’s a good or a bad thing, Maxime doesn’t know. Her eyebrows are creased in a frown, her worry for their students clear if you looked at her face for a mere few seconds. “I agree. These kids are much too young to know loss so intimately, and yet there’s so little we can do to keep some of them from being faced with it.” She thinks of those students who had lost family members in the past few months, having to break the news to those that wore a yellow-and-black tie. Maxime feels heavy. “Some of them must have parents who are with the Death Eaters. You ever think about that?”

“That wasn’t completely uncomfortable to watch at all” Cordelia said quietly leaning over close to Dani. She wasn’t a fan of the whole public proposal thing, especially at an event where a ‘no’ wouldn’t even be possible. It didn’t make it anymore comfortable knowing that she had runaway with someone who definitely wasn’t her future husband but Cordelia knew better than to ask. Less people get hurt when the truth is hidden. 

“Congratulations, I guess” 

Dani gives Cordelia an incredulous look. “So sorry to inconvenience you.” Her anger has been carefully cooped up all evening, only showing itself mildly in front of Z, but Cordelia’s comment manages to rub her the wrong way. She can’t allow it, though, to be angry. Or at least, to look angry. “Thank you, though. What a wonderful turn of events, hm? Entering the 30s with a bang.”

Arlo still became nervous when he thought back on the terrible things that had happened to Danielle. He knew she had been used as an example. Her pain and fear were a warning to those who might want to follow her to freedom. And though it scared him, it had also left him with a deep sense of admiration. They had been friends before, exchanging pleasantries on occasion, and frequently crossing paths due to their families. But now he was drawn to her. Not only desperate to ensure she was okay after the many ways in which she had suffered, but because he was curious, fascinated by how she had found the bravery to even attempt cutting ties with her heritage, what was expected of her. She was a better person that he was in almost every way, he was so sure of that. But if she needed somebody to listen, somebody to be there who might understand the anxiety and pressure that came with being surrounded by so much darkness, so many unwavering ideals, he wanted to be that. He could be that. 

Approaching the Muggle café, trying desperately to maintain his dignity despite everything he had ever been taught telling him he should be embarrassed to set foot in such a place, he opened the door and hurriedly found Danielle among the patrons, who were scattered in seating throughout the cosy room. He offered her a nervous smile as he carefully pulled up his chair. Whenever he did anything remotely against the wishes of his parents, he lived with a weight on his shoulders, a tightness in his chest that reminded him of how much trouble he would be in should he get caught. But he was almost certain not one of his family’s acquaintances would want to be seen in this part of London. They were safe… for now. “Hello,” he murmured, his voice quiet and soft, as always. “Have you placed an order yet?” ​

It had only been a little over two weeks that Dani had been gone, but still England felt like something foreign. She had walked through the streets of London feeling like a tourist, head heavy with the fatigue and pain that seemed to linger in her bones now. But at least she was out of her parents’ house for a moment, enjoying this bit of relative freedom. True freedom was no longer in the picture, of course: Dani had had her taste, for those two weeks, and now any chance of it had been ripped from under her. Watchful eyes followed her, a threat hung above her head like a sharpened ax. Maybe the only reason she was allowed out from the ivory tower her father would prefer to lock her in was her obvious defeat. No bone in Dani’s body was considering stepping a toe out of line again.

She had arrived early, relishing in the anonymity that came from being in the muggle world. Strange, because before Dani had always longed for any attention –– a turn of a head, a conversation with a vague acquaintance, or even thunderous applause. Her eyes flick from her new phone ( a belated Christmas gift, that felt more like a ball and chain, in truth ) to the front door of the coffee shop, her instincts sharp. A feeling of safety was no longer in the picture either, though Dani had recently learned that might always have been the case. When Arlo enters the shop, she sits up a little. “No, no, I waited for you,” she says, giving a small smile. Dani tries not to think about what their parents might say, should they know that they were meeting in a place ran by muggles. “I was thinking of getting something abominably sweet and sugary, you know. Tons of whipped cream.”

“Is any news outlet unbiased? Where is the profit in being unbiased? And don’t give me the ‘news outlets shouldn’t be run for profits’ bullshit. We are both smart enough to know every business main goal is profit”

“Oh, absolute, that’s the whole fucking problem. I don’t think you need to sell complete and utter horseshit to make money, though. People are willing to pay for good journalism too, ya know. The Prophet’s pure propaganda, everyone with a functioning brain bloody knows that.”

“I’m not going to stop you. I completely agree, much more lovely to look at than without her work that’s for certain.”  Fay chuckled lightly, “So who’s this then? Another bat shit crazy relative you’ve never met?”

“Good, ‘cause there’s not much use in that anyway,” Tonks said with a cheeky grin. “Cygnus Black. One of the ... three, I think? Right dickhead, but he was dead before I was even born, at least. Too bad they immortalised him by painting him though, innit?”