where's my ghost in the mirror?

adira iris selwyn | 18 | former ravenclaw & selwyn family heir

[missselwyn]

chrysons·:

Holidays away from the Nott Manor were a strange concept for Chryson. For nearly twenty Christmases now, he had followed along the same stilted traditions, miserable every step of the way. Moving in with Adira had offered a new beginning, one far away from his father but still too uncomfortably close to all the baggage he would never be able to escape. Adira was a bright spot in it all, even if Chryson felt like things had seemed a little strange between them since the big move. 

The holidays had crept up unannounced, catching him unaware now that there was no more Hogwarts, no house elves to prepare the decorations while his mother drank and his father yelled. It was the bareness of the Selwyn Manor covered in a slight dusting of snow that really hammered the impending event home one chilly Friday evening as he arrived home from work. Shivering, he let himself into the house, making sure to announce his presence to not startle Adira with his sudden appearance before setting off to find her and propose a new, festive plan for the evening. “Hey, I’m back!” 

@missselwyn

Hey, I’m back. It was amazing how a few simple words could bring such a smile to Adira’s lips, despite the fact that she heard them almost every evening. Chryson had been living with her a little over a month, and she was certain that was the best choice she’d made in months, inviting him in. To get him away from his father, but also, in a way, to get her out of her own mind. She’d been a shell of herself when she’d begged him not to go back to Nott Manor, to another engagement he didn’t want, to that horrible man. Within weeks, she found herself slowly blossoming into something close to herself. Still, while her days were lonely and her fears crept back in, evenings had become a comfortable constant for the young woman. Chryson would come home, and the world felt righted within itself. Perhaps it was merely the company of someone she adored so much, and she knew that was part of it. The biggest part, however, was that, with him so close, there was no hiding how bad she’d gotten. So she did the tricky work and tried her best to be better. While most days she forgot her lunch, she did try to eat a small breakfast and always ate dinner with Chryson. 

Her cheeks, plumper now than they’d been when he moved in with her, turned rosy as she tried to temper her own excitement. Things weren’t perfect between the pair; there was still a lot left unsaid. But one thing could be said--this arrangement was better than either of them on their own. “In the study, Chrys!” she called out, though she was sure he knew where to find her. In the past month, she’d turned her father’s study into her own little den, spending some money to brighten the space up and make it feel less haunted. She put down her book--a new on on Dragon’s she’d managed to nab the last time she left the house--and moved towards the door of the study, peeking her head out in an attempt to catch sight of him before he came in. “You sound chipper.”

[missselwyn]

nxttatty·:

She could feel the tears stinging her eyes again, a sob getting stuck in the back of her throat. Her was a woman she’d looked up to before, telling her that she was strong, but she didn’t feel it. Atalia swallowed her pain and looked up at the older girl. “Then why do I feel so weak? I’ve learned spells and charms and potions until I was nearly top of my class…and yet? I can’t protect myself from one person?” She shook her head, more mad at herself than anything. Atalia had always put on the air of strength, wanting people to look at her as if she had no weaknesses, but then she turned around and had Chryson protecting her.

“You’re not trapped anymore, Dira.” She finally stepped close enough to touch her, but she kept her hands to herself, fiddling with her clothes to try and cover the scars. It was a ridiculous action, considering they were already covered, but now that Adira knew the truth, it was as if there was a giant arrow pointing to them. “If that’s treasonous, then everything we’re doing is. Go big or go home, right?” Even trying to make light of it, she knew it wouldn’t help much. “Dira…I could never hate you.” Tentatively, Atalia held her hand out, offering it to her. “Yeah, I was misled. And a scorned young girl wanted revenge on people who expected so little of her, but the Death Eaters? I learned how wrong I was. I can’t change anything I did, but I can I live my life differently now–and so can you. We can’t let them control our lives anymore.”

Adira wanted to rush over to Atalia and wipe her tears away, hold her close, talk some damn sense into her. Atalia Nott was, and had always been, a fierce and formidable woman. Part of the heiress’s fear of joining the Nott family had stemmed from Atalia being so openly enraged by the sight of the older blonde. That fear, the fear of her almost-sister, had grown into more of a respect for the Hell and the near-Heaven that resided within the broken girl in front of her. Perhaps they were both broken. “Hey, don’t talk about yourself like that.” Her words were sharper than she’d intended. The older blonde paused, taking a breath to calm herself. “It’s different when it’s your father. They’re supposed to love you, to protect you, and when they don’t--” Adira couldn’t quite finish her sentence, her own words dripping with the knowledge that she knew what it was like to feel helpless in that way. To be let down by someone who was supposed to help you. 

Atalia was closing the distance between them, and Adira felt a breath hitch in her throat as she did so. The moment was so raw between them, so vulnerable in a way the two hadn’t been before. It was terrifying; it was relieving. Without the older blonde’s usual heels on, she could see that her almost-sister towered above her, but she didn’t mind. There was something comforting about the fact that this tall, reckless, goddess of a woman needed help as badly as she did. “I--Atalia, I’m trapped by a lot more than a mark on my arm.” It was her own mind, this damn house, circumstance. All of those felt like prisons to the older girl.

The former Ravenclaw reached for Atalia’s hand, her own grip trembling, but strong. How long had it been since someone had touched her? Hannifan was over frequently, but they usually kept their distance until they were too drunk to care. Andrew, while the most doting friend she’d had in a long time, wasn’t the most physical person with her. She felt tears burn in her eyes again, threatening to spill over. “You should leave, you know. You’re strong, and you’re better than you know.” But was Adira? It was a question she’d tinkered with for the longest time, but hearing her almost-sister say aloud that she should leave left an ache in her heart. Maybe, if she left, some of the loathing she’d forced in on herself would dissipate. But one thought struck her, as it always did. “I--I don’t know if I can leave him behind.” Xander. One of the biggest reasons had always been Xander. Were she to leave the Death Eaters, she would most surely end up in his path, against him. He was her longest, dearest friend, and the thought of losing him broke her heart. But she was losing herself by the day.

[missselwyn]

nxttatty·:

“I couldn’t tell anyone,” she said quietly, shaking her head. Atalia took a moment to compose herself–straighten her collar, pull her skirt back down over her scar and wipe her tears away. She could almost pretend that the scars didn’t exist. Unfortunately, it didn’t work that ways, and she couldn’t just forget it all. “Levi knows, of course, but everyone else just thinks these scars are ones that silly little kids get from falling from trees or whatever. No one would take me seriously if they thought I was this weak.”

When Adira started talking, she felt her heart drop to her stomach again. This strong girl that she’d looked up to had a moment of weakness too. No, she thought, cursing herself. It wasn’t weakness. That’s how her father would have seen it, but no. Adira had made those scars herself, but that didn’t make her weak. “The dinner…” She took a step forward, her eyes moving down to her forearm as she tried to process it all. “You’ve been holding this all in for that long?” Finally, her voice sounded strong. It didn’t waver when she dealt with someone else’s experiences, which she was thankful for. Something told her that Adira needed the support now. “Chryson?” Atalia could almost curse the boy–he carried too many people’s secrets–here he was helping both of the blondes. “You and I both know that Chrys would’ve been beside himself if he hadn’t stopped you.” Looking back up at Adira, she shook her head. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Listening to Atalia was heartbreaking, but Adira understood how taboo abuse became, especially in Pureblood circles, far more than Atalia could know. She wished, if only for a moment, that she, too, had scars riddling her body. Proof that her parents had hurt her, had tormented her, had shaped her into their own image and left her to rot the second she stepped slightly out of line. But she didn’t, and the mental scars were far harder to explain. “You’re not weak, Atalia,” she said, worrying her bottom lip as she thought up something to say. What on Earth could she say that would be worth it? “You’re one of the strongest women I know, regardless what he did to you.” It’d been a while since she’d heard genuine malice in her own voice, but Theodore Nott was doing that to her. Merlin, if she ever got her hands on that man...

Adira stayed silent as Atalia processed her confession, watching her with anxious eyes. She nodded softly as Atalia questioned if she’d been holding onto the secret for that long. “Chryson and I never spoke about it once the night was over, but he saved my life that night. I would have--” She cut herself off abruptly, feeling tears well up in her eyes. She would have kept going. Would have let her blood spill out onto the floor and hoped for death. “I couldn’t even see a healer about it, so I did some quick research on healing charms. Obviously not my strong suit, but it didn’t get infected.” It was the only blessing of that night. Had it been infected, she would have maybe lost her entire forearm. “I joined the Death Eaters out of a deal with my parents, a deal to earn some freedom, and look at me. I’m trapped.”

“Atalia, you have the mark yourself.” It was a trembling acknowledgement, and the former Ravenclaw averted her gaze from the woman she’d nearly called sister. “And you’d always acted so proud of it, despite your feelings. I didn’t want to risk losing you, or worse, put you in danger with the knowledge.” The blonde looked down at the offensive mark, grimacing. “It’s treasonous. I hid it from everyone.” Including Xander Pucey, a man she’d known her entire life and had once offered to marry her to help her escape the Nott family’s clutches. How different things were now. She dared a glance back up at her. “Please don’t hate me.”

[missselwyn]

nxttatty·:

She wanted to break when she heard her name, and she nearly did. Tears rolled down her cheeks and she forced herself to look at Adira. If it was anyone else, she would’ve looked away, she would’ve shrugged it off and said it was fine, but that wasn’t what Adira needed to hear. As much as Atalia hated it, she needed to hear the truth. “Of course you didn’t know, we don’t tell anyone! But all those times we got called home because we did something unworthy of a pureblood? All those times we didn’t do what we were supposed to?” Her voice wavered for the second time that night and, this time, she didn’t try to compose herself. “All those times I stupidly tried to stand up to him and Chryson took the blame—“

That’s what broke her. More tears spilled over and she didn’t try to hold them back. The physical scars seemed to ache as she cried, but the mental ones were worse, and the scars Chryson took for her were immeasurable. Atalia turned away from her and tried to force the memories back down, but she was blanketed in a mix of rage and fear. “I took the mark because I wanted to prove him wrong,” she said once she found her voice again. How fucked up was that? She’s been hurt and all she had wanted was to make her dad proud. “But I quickly learned that wasn’t going to happen…Do you know how many times I’ve wished I could go back and change it? The first night my father—after the mark—“ She took an uneasy breath, unable to fully form the rest of that sentence. “I scrubbed my arm raw trying to get rid of it.” Her tears finally stopped coming so quickly and she focused on Adira’s question, on Levi. Her hand pressed against her chest, feeling the ring on her necklace press into her skin. “Why do you think we got such a small apartment? We needed to get away, but we couldn’t use our parent’s money. I’ve stopped going to the meetings…the next time my father sees me—“ Atalia quickly shook her head, not wanting to even think about what her father would do. “So, whatever happened,” she motioned to Adira’s arm, “I know that pain.”

Adira Selwyn wasn’t the type to cry often, but hearing Atalia’s story and seeing her so moved to tears brought forth the same feeling in her. The whole Nott family, all of the siblings she’d grown to love, the very man she was still in love with... they were all tormented by this man. Tears stung at her eyes as she thought about Chryson taking the fall for her almost-sister. She could see it, knew in her heart that he was that kind of man. Her heart went out to him, to her sister before her, to the two boys she hadn’t seen in so long. She wanted to move forward, to take Atalia in her arms and console her, but the timing felt wrong. So she let her say her piece, waiting and watching and crying with her. She let out a sigh of relief when Atalia admitted she and Levi were out, living in their small apartment. Chryson might still be stuck there, but at least Atalia was out. “Merlin, ‘Talia, you could have told me. You could have stayed here until you two found a place.” The words were soft, and an idea swam though her head that she would have to save for later.

“No, Atalia, you don’t.” It wasn’t as strong as Adira wanted to be, her own tears still falling down her cheek. She wiped them away. “Because you didn’t have a choice. In the scars on your body, that is.” Hearing her almost-sister admit that she, too, hated the mark on her arm made her feel safer, more secure. The moment was still tense, and Adira hated revealing it. “I did it. The scars, I did it. The night of that dinner at Nott Manor, when the engagement with Chryson was moved up.” Oh, Merlin, the thought of Chryson that night pulled more tears to her eyes. Even then, she could still feel his arms holding her back as she tried her best to keep digging deeper into her arm. “And Chryson, Merlin, he found me. Held me back and stopped me, because I would’ve gone farther with it.” She still wanted to, some nights. Adira brought her hidden forearm up to the light, looking at it. It was hideous, and it had never quite healed right. It was as monstrous as the mark on her arm beneath it. “There was so much blood, Atalia. I’ll never forgive myself for what he saw.”

[missselwyn]

nxttatty·:

She hated sounding weak. Of course, she knew that she wasn’t being weak, but it was difficult to separate from what she was taught and what she knew. Atalia stared at the older girl for just a moment, shocked at the vulnerable look. She tensed for a moment before shaking her head. “You’re not gonna lose me, Dira…” Quickly realizing that just talking wasn’t going to solve anything, her heart dropped to her stomach. If talking made her feel weak, then how was she supposed to feel baring everything.

“No,” she said, shaking her head as she took her jacket off. “If you think some scars are gonna push me away, you’re wrong.” Pulling the collar of her shirt to the side, she showed off the scar running perpendicular to her clavicle. “Here I got hit for talking back to my father.” Atalia let go of her shirt before pulling the hem of her skirt up just a few inches, where a shattered scar was raised on her thigh. “Here dear old dad threw a broken drinking glass at me for some rumor he heard about me at a party.” Tears were stinging her eyes as she remembered it all, but it was easier to share this all willingly than to have someone stumble upon it like she had. “Somewhere on the back of my head is a scar from being pushed into a dresser…Scars and pain are nothing new to me, so don’t even try to tell me that you think you would lose me!”

All Adira could do was watch in horror as Atalia removed her jacket, pointing to each offending mark with an explanation. Her father. Theodore. Chryson’s father. Was he hurting him as well? Thoughts swam through her head, as her eyes followed each mark, her face unreadable. How was she supposed to process this? “’Talia,” she murmured, her voice unrecognizable to her own ears. It was calmer now, steadier, as if Atalia bearing her troubles to her was all it took to send her courage straight back into her. If someone so bold and brave could be so vulnerable, then Adira dared to think that someone like her, a lonely liar, could be open, too.

“I didn’t know.”

Adira wondered how many times Chryson had been hurt while they were still together, if the reason he’d looked so cold to her as a child was because his father was beating his very soul out of him. But she pushed those thoughts away. She could deal with them later. Now, she was worried about Atalia, her almost-sister, someone who was nearly family to her. To see her hurt in this way brought something out of Adira herself. A rage deep set within her. “Please tell me you’re out of that house,” she begged, her voice much steadier than her own fury of emotions. How dare that man hurt the people she cared so deeply about. Had she no sense, she would have left for Nott Manor that instant and dragged Chryson out, since neither of the other boys were there. Darius. It suddenly made sense, the youngest Nott. He had just been a scared boy the whole time.

“Please tell me you left with Levi like you said you were going to in our letters. Please tell me he can’t touch you anymore.”

[missselwyn]

nxttatty·:

She quickly became ashamed of her own mark and pulled her sleeve down, covering the ink. Atalia felt her face warming withe embarrassment, though she wondered why this was effecting her so much. Hesitantly, she stepped forward, clutching her own forearm to her chest. “Maybe I wasn’t suppose to see it, but I did.” The softness of her voice surprised her. “Talk to me, Adira. What happened?”

Atalia wasn’t sure what to say, though her mind whirled with the possibilities of what could’ve caused this. Her first thought were her parents, though she quickly waved that thought away. She had her fair share of bruises and scars, but something told her this was different. “I understand wanting to keep pain to yourself and wanting to hide these kinds of things, but you need to talk to someone–keeping everything bottled is only going to make things worse.” She could hear her voice wavering, so she took a deep breath. “So talk to me…”

Atalia’s soft, wavering voice was a shock to Adira, a side to her almost-sister than she hadn’t seen before. The former Slytherin seemed so worried, so careful, and it only served to make the sole heiress feel inadequate. What on Earth could she give Atalia in return for this kindness she was showing? Not the truth, certainly not that, because what if she lost Atalia in the end? What if she was still as loyal to the Death Eaters as she liked to present, and she hated Adira for this? The young heiress looked down at her hands, unable to look her almost-sister in the eye. 

“I don’t want to lose you, Atalia.” It was the easiest thing she could admit at the moment. That this secret was bad, horrific. That she placed her relationship with Atalia in such high regard that it wasn’t something she wanted to lose. It was a plea, a desperate, last-ditch effort to get the girl who thought of her as family to keep quiet. Not to push this. Adira quieted her trembling hand, the tremor reaching her voice instead. “Please.” She’d lied to friends before, lied for years. Why was it so hard to maintain some sense of composure in this moment? Was it just that she knew she’d been caught, or was it that she just didn’t have it in her to lie anymore?

[missselwyn]

chrysons·:

His arms came up around her shaking body, pulling her tighter against him as she sobbed. The sound of it was heart-wrenching; in all the time he’d known her, Chryson wasn’t sure he’d ever heard Adira cry like this before. The lump rose in his throat and before he could help it, he felt tears welling in his own eyes. Swallowing hard, he reached up to stroke her hair gently, telling himself it was enough before giving in and gently pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Adira…” Words weren’t escaping him now; there were so many things he could say, things he wanted to say, but he held it all in.

A few drops spilled over Chryson’s eyes but he scrubbed them away quickly, looking up toward the ceiling until they stopped and he steadied his voice enough to speak without her noticing any difference. He would never dream of turning her away either; truth be told, there were still times he opened the door at home hoping to see her standing there. “Even if it was just me, you are so much braver than you know for opening up that door and facing your fears. As much as he didn’t want to let her go, he knew he would have to eventually, whenever she was ready. "And I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere you don’t want me to go.” His hand curled into her shirt as he leaned his head to rest on the top of hers. For now though, they needed water and food, just as soon as she was ready.

Adira hadn’t cried this hard in a long time. The sobbing, hiccuping mess in Chryson’s arms was a far cry from the woman he’d known at Hogwarts. Even when she was clawing up her own arm, she didn’t cry this heavily. It just wasn’t normally in her. The last time she’d cried this much had been the night after she’d taken the Dark Mark on her arm. That night, she’d been alone with the drapes drawn around her bed, cradling a pillow as she sobbed. It had been a private affair, and this most certainly wasn’t. But Chryson was so soothing, such a gentle presence to the young heiress, that she couldn’t help but want him to witness it. She was vulnerable, she was scared, and she was beyond grateful that she hadn’t yet lost him. She could only cry harder, cling onto him a little tighter, as he stroked her hair, kissed her forehead. He was so tender, and she couldn’t quite handle it in the moment. The support, while appreciated, wasn’t something she’d ever believed she’d have again. 

She wasn’t brave. Merlin knew she was anything but. She was a liar, and a coward, and stuck somewhere in the realm between realism and idealism. But perhaps the fact that someone she thought so highly of believed in her bravery gave her a little courage. “I just want you to stay,” she managed to get out, still trembling in his arms. She needed this. He was someone she trusted, someone who wasn’t judging her, and someone who’d offered her so much more than she would’ve asked for. Her heart soared, renewed in its love for the man she held so close. “I don’t want to lose you again, Chryson. Please.”

[missselwyn]

chrysons‌:

It was a relief, in a way, hearing that she hadn’t been ready to face him. How funny was it that even apart they could still feel so many of the same emotions for their situation. “Atalia would understand. She loves you.” It wasn’t exactly what he had wanted to say, but it was safe. I understand. I love you. Those words were too heavy, too much for him and not enough for her. They still seemed too hollow to say aloud for her, for fear they would fall flat, after everything. “Trust me, I know the papers are nothing but sensationalized trash.” It had been a paper, after all, that had sent them on the road to where they were now.

The confession wasn’t startling; he hadn’t expected her to be doing well, though he hadn’t expected her to be doing as poorly as she looked to be doing, as poorly as the pained confession would imply. “I understand.” After all, he lived with his father, with a sword of fear constantly hanging over his head. It wasn’t like this, was barely comparable, but still he understood the paranoia of constantly expecting the next bad thing to happen. He squeezed her hand back before loosening slightly, intertwining their fingers instead. “I wish I could promise you they won’t.” But he knew as well as she must that that would be just another empty promise added to the pile between them. He listened intently, finally obliging her request to look at her, eyes locking to hers and truly searching their depths, all the light and dark swirling together there. His free hand rose up to brush her cheek gently, to move a free strand of hair behind her ear, hoping the touch could say everything he wasn’t sure his words would convey. “Adira… you’re not her any more than I’m the boy who fell in love with you.” Change was inevitable, the only guarantee even in good times. In war, change battered them like waves, barely giving a moment to catch their breath before plunging them into the water once more. It wasn’t right, she wasn’t okay, but words couldn’t patch that. Only actions. “You’ve been through something terrible. It’s okay to feel unsafe. It’s okay to be a little bit broken. You changed, and you don’t have to know yourself right away now. I can help in any way you want me. I’ll cook you food, I’ll stand guard if it would help you sleep. I am here, no matter what.” A breath, then he continued. “You faced your fears to open the door for me.”

It had been hard admitting any of that out loud to Chryson. For Adira, it was very brave, but she felt so weak doing it. Weak for letting things get to her like that. But here he was, this man she loved so dearly, telling her that she had every right to be afraid. That it was okay for her to not feel herself, and that he was there for her. The gesture itself was more than touching. She didn’t have to feel alone. He wasn’t judging her, not like Atalia had. He wasn’t enabling her like Rion sometimes did. He was just there, willing to be whatever she needed at the moment. Her heart fluttered, then soared. The whole situation felt so big, and everything felt like far too much. And so, she found that there was only one response she could have in this situation.

She cried.

“How could I turn you away?” It was the first thing out of her mouth the second she could find the words through her tears. She was trembling, her hand squeezing his as tightly as ever. She knew, in her heart of hearts, that she couldn’t have turned Chryson away. No matter what he did, he was always welcome in her home. In her heart. “ Chryson, I--” A soft hiccup disrupted her words. “I’ve missed you so, so much.” She found herself letting go of his hand, opting instead to rise and sit down next to him instead. She wasn’t steady, and she knew that, but all she wanted was to be closer to him. “Thank you.” The words left her mouth, and suddenly the crying was even harder as she thought through his offer. She fell next to him, her own shaking arms wrapping around him tightly, only able to repeat her thanks like a broken record. And, it was messed up, but a small smile formed in her lips through her tears. “Thank you.”

[missselwyn]

chrysons·:

The sound of his name on her lips finally brought his eyes to her, searching her face for any sign that there was a bridge to be built between them. Unfair. It was such a perfect word to describe the situation. They had come so far, built something fragile but real from a hopelessly terrible situation, only to have it ripped away as it solidified and became something that they wanted instead of something that they couldn’t avoid. It was not fair. They had both deserved better than a vengeful article and two fathers looking for any excuse to hurt their children, ripping them away from the only person that had truly understood them. Chryson had deserved better than being ripped away from the one he loved more than anyone else, deserved better than trying to hide that pain in any way he could.

He held out a hand, open, facing her, offering her an anchor to hold onto. So many opportunities to reach out had been squandered. “I used to dream about coming here and just talking for hours.” He admitted. “I would have read your letters you know. And written back.” It was only a small lie; deep down, he knew he would have written back, the part that wanted to hold on to her winning easily over whatever part the may have needed distance in order to survive the prospect of a life where they didn’t end up together. “I’m sure they weren’t stupid and childish, but I’m glad you had Atalia.” He wished he had known that she had still cared enough to ask. Maybe then he would have asked too. “I kept an eye for you name in the papers. After…” He trailed off, knowing that she would know exactly what he meant without it being said. “Adira… You don’t need to pretend to be okay for me to be here. If you’re like this, I want to be here for you no matter what.”

Adira offered him a small smile at his words, squeezing his hand softly. Chryson Nott was still the same man she remembered, at least, she thought he was. The same man who’d made her feel comfortable inside of an arranged betrothal neither party had wanted a part in. “You should have.” Her words were useless, because she knew she wouldn’t have let him in. They’d needed their space apart, despite how badly she’d needed someone to help her through her darkest time. Still, she’d had Hannifan, who was better than nothing. “I know you would have, which is probably why I never sent them. I don’t think I was ready to face you.” She glanced down at her knees, a little ashamed of how honest that response was. She still wasn’t ready to face him, but she was trying. “I hardly have Atalia at this point. The letters just... faded. It was my fault, really.” And she’d yelled at Atalia when she was over the other day. She’d been so cruel, trying to protect her own secrets, and she could only hope she didn’t push away her almost-sister. She rolled her eyes slightly at his mention of the papers. It wasn’t that she was upset with him, but her name hadn’t been kept out of the papers regardless of her not having left her own house. “The papers are full of garbage.”

“Chryson, I--” Adira fought hard against her instincts to keep everything inside. To trust no one with her issues. Her own face gave away how far gone she was, gaunt and hollow. She felt like a shell of herself. “I’m doing really poorly, Chryson.” She wanted to retreat into herself and pretend, for once, that everything was fine. That she was perfectly normal, and coping with the death of her parents like Audelia had before. She felt tears well up in her eyes. “I’m so scared, but I’m scared all the time. It never goes away.” It felt odd, explaining how she was feeling sober. She’d done it a few times, drunk with Rion Hannifan in her wine cellar, but this was a different beast. Rion had no room to judge, but Chryson did, if he so chose. “Your sister thinks I’m paranoid, but I-- Chryson, they’ve been in my house. They’ll come again. I know it.” She’s shaking softly, trying to push back tears that threatened to come. She wanted to be honest, but not like this. She was too tired to cry again in front of him. “I mean, look at me, Chryson. Really look at me. I’m not the girl you fell in love with.” She looked over at him, daring him to tell her she was wrong. That she was still the young girl with the dragon book. “I can’t sleep. I won’t eat. I can hardly open my front door without being paralyzed with fear.” She took a deep breath and pulled her hand away from his, her head falling into her hands. Merlin knew she was a broken woman at this point. As desperately as she tried to put the pieces back together, there was some comfort in her own suffering. But it wasn’t to be shared. “I don’t know myself anymore.”

[missselwyn]

chrysons·:

It seemed a thousand eyes were fixed upon them as the pair made their way to Adira’s parlor, Chryson keeping his hand glued to the blonde beside him, hoping to offer some warmth in the dark of the mausoleum that surrounded them. The parlor greeted them coldly, Adira slipping away from his touch. Chryson shoved his hands into his pockets and surveyed the sight in front of him. Half empty bottles glinted in the low light; Chryson counted them quickly as Adira rushed to hide it all, hitting seven before he lost sight of what she had grabbed. There had been more than that, he was nearly certain, and his stomach dropped as he processed it. He had been there before, more than once, had gotten so lost that there was nowhere to go but to sink down to the bottom of a bottle and hope to forget. Anything he could say in that moment would sound hypocritical, so he instead grabbed his wand, reaching out to touch Adira’s shoulder as he vanished more of them.

The silence sprawled between them, filling the room and all but swallowing them. The chasm widening once again, Chryson could do nothing but look around, unable to make eye contact without seeing what could have been—a much different tableau than what lay before them. It was all so easy to imagine, the two of them sharing the wine by moonlight, lost in some twisted conversation until the sun began to peak through the windows, but even easier to imagine the truth, Adira there by herself, moving through wine like it was water, not sleeping as day turned into night into day. Her voice broke through the reverie, shattering it even though he hadn’t quite picked up the words. “I’m fine.” He could tell she was struggling as much as him to say something, say anything, to break the ice. All he could think was the truth—that he wasn’t sure exactly what to say. It wouldn’t be a new concept between them, the truth, but maybe a refreshing one. Maybe the start of something new. “You know, I had a whole speech planned out when I came here, but now that I’m here, my mind is blank.” He took a deep breath. “I missed you, and I feel like I’ve messed something up between us because of everything that happened. I know it’s foolish to expect things to be the same, because they’re not, but…” He trailed off, words finally deserting him completely.

Merlin, Adira felt like an imbecile. She was sitting so close to him, and yet she’d never felt farther away from him. She wondered if seeing him again had been a mistake. But then he started talking, and Adira couldn’t keep her eyes off of him.  I’ve missed you. Her heart dropped as heard those words. He was being honest, more honest than either of them were really used to. It felt like something being reborn, but also something being ripped apart. Any sort of former interaction with this man put aside, the young Ravenclaw, for once, had to take him at face value. He was hurting, he was missing her, and he was trying his hardest at the moment to actually communicate with her. While they’d been open with each other before, it was typically about anything but the other person. About easy things. She owed him the same kindness he was giving her at this moment--the truth.

“Chryson.” His name left Adira’s lip like some sort of broken prayer. None of this was how it should have been. She wants to tell him he didn’t mess any of this up. That, somehow, things were still going to be fine between them. “It’s so unfair,” she managed to get out. One of her hands fisted in her sweater, needing to grip onto something. “This wasn’t how we were supposed to end up.” It’s more of a confession than anything she’d mentioned before. There was a bitter, dark anger inside of her at the way things had turned out. Her life was nearly happy, almost perfect, and then everything had fallen to shambles, debilitating her in their wake. She pushes some of that anger down, not quite willing to open herself up that much, yet. “I wrote letters. Most of them were stupid, childish things. I never sent them.” She gave him a small, sad look. She felt so helpless around him, and yet, the sight of the man she loved before her was a comfort. Regardless of her wreckage, he didn’t seem to judge her. “I’ve missed you, too. I haven’t seen many people since returning home, though I wrote your sister for a while.” Why hadn’t she responded to his sister’s last owls? Why was she like this? “I--I didn’t want you to see me like this, so I asked Atalia about you.”

[missselwyn]

nxttatty·:

Atalia didn’t understand the severity with which Adira defended Andrew, but she wasn’t one to judge. She’d done more than her fair share of defending people that others may not believed deserved it. Something in Adira’s tone caused her to realize that arguing about Davies wouldn’t get them anywhere, so she dropped the topic. “Lie or not, people believed it and I doubt they would betray you like that.” Atalia’s voice was soft, though she didn’t add anything else.

When Adira reared back, she felt her eyebrows pinch together, still processing the sight she had seen. She was staring at the sleeve, now covering the other girl’s skin when she heard her demand. “Adira…” Flinching as she yelled, she took a step back, but didn’t move toward the door. “No–” Her voice was soft as she said it, her head shaking as she built the confidence back up. “No! I don’t know what you expect my reaction to be, but I’m not going leave. What happened, Adira? How did you get hurt?”

Adira stepped back away from Atalia, her mind swimming with the different options. She could hex the girl before her, force her out, but she’d lose one of the dearest people in her life in the process. She could open up, confess what she’d done to her own body and hope for the best, but she’d break her own heart if Atalia took it poorly. She could run, hide somewhere in her large house until Atalia left, but that could take a while and would just anger her friend. Her friend. She was in danger of using her friend.

“I--” Adira tried, scoured her mind for the easiest lie, but it didn’t come. She couldn’t focus, the arm that held her scar hidden behind her. Her hands were trembling. “You weren’t supposed to see that.” She heard her own voice, defeated and quivering, and wondered just how she must look to the bold woman before her. A mouse in the presence of a rare and beautiful snake. If the other woman found out Adira’s true alliances, she could be as sure as dead. She could be safe. She just didn’t know. “Please, just go.”

[midsumner]

“Oh, how easily (how softly!) tragedy sits on her parted lips.”

— postscript #3. y.

[musingmemes]

    concerned meme

“ are you okay? ”

“ you don’t look so good ”

“ sit down, you look faint ”

“ have you eaten today? ”

“ please, just rest for a minute please ”

“ i’m worried about you ”

“ what the hell happened? ”

“ did someone do this to you? ”

“ what’s wrong? ”

“ how long has this been going on? ”

“ why didn’t you tell me? ”

“ i can’t not care about you ”

“ don’t tell me you’re fine. this is not fine ”

[kev6425]

[missselwyn]

nxttatty·:

“Fuck what other people’s definitions of family are.” With her eyebrows pinched together , she shook her head. Atalia had never liked what was tied to the word family–how there were these people who may or may not care about you, and you were supposed to love them unconditionally? She never bought into it. But the idea of a family you create, that was something she preferred. “My parents? They aren’t my family–there just people the fucking brought me into the world–You, Chrys, Levi, you are my family, okay? So don’t tell me that family isn’t that simple, Dira, because it is. I know you’re my family, so fuck what anyone else says!”

Her heart broke slightly at Adira comparing herself to her parents and, for a moment, all she could do was shake her head. “No,” was all she could say at first. How could someone as sweet as Adira think she could be so horrible and evil? If she thought she had no hope, then what did she think of Atalia’s odds? “Adira,” she started softly. “You know those people, hell I’d bet Davies is one of them. Do they seem like the kind of people to hurt someone if they truly don’t know where their loyalties lie? Harp on yourself all you want, but you know deep down that you aren’t in danger–you were friends with everyone at Hogwarts, so who exactly would suspect you were a Death Eater?”

She could feel a bit of anger bubbling up at the thought of Adira thinking so lowly of themselves. How long had she been feeling like this without her knowing? Did Chryson know? Atalia clutched her own wrist again, showing her mark more forcibly. “The people who have these marks–our parents, didn’t exactly hide where their loyalties are, and if you truly believed in the Death Eaters, then, yeah, maybe they’d have a basis to be suspicious of you, but you don’t so this–” She reached forward, grabbing Adira’s arm and pushing up the sleeve, but she didn’t find the pristine mark she was expecting. It didn’t mirror her own. “Adira…what–what happened?”

Though Atalia made a compelling case for the joy of a found family, it wasn’t enough for Adira. She had a found family--Falon, Dominique, and Andrew. Ophelia, too, when she had been alive. But a found family couldn’t always be there. A found family had obligations of their own to attend to. The young heiress wanted something more, something she nearly got with the Notts. Something she was sure wouldn’t crumble around her the second she got too comfortable. “You don’t get it, Atalia.” 

“Leave Andrew out of this.” For the first time in a long time for the young Selwyn, this wasn’t a request. Andrew Davies was a dear friend, one who was kind enough to help her out when he was over. He lived with her for half the time. And imagining him as one of those people... it made her sick. He was so much better than the scum that stole her own sanity from her. “He’s none of your concern.” There was a distinct tone in her voice. Drop it. “And I wasn’t friends with everyone at Hogwarts. I lied to everyone at Hogwarts. Everyone I met. And I just have to hope it was a convincing lie.” Something about Atalia’s nerves rubbed her the wrong way. Like she was making something out of nothing, when Adira clearly had a reason. “I’m not some neurotic child, Atalia. We’re all in danger. It’s naive to think otherwise.” 

Adira yanked her arm away from Atalia in horror, stumbling out of her chair to stand away from the other girl. She had seen. Oh, Merlin, she had seen. It was like a scene from one of the young Ravenclaw’s nightmares, having someone new see that mark. Her heart began racing, her hands quickly bringing her shirt right back down to cover the mark. She should have been using a charm to cover it. Incensed by their current conversation and the dramatic change of events, she glared down at the other girl. “Get out of my house,” she demanded, eager to have some time alone to process. Eager to not have this conversation with Atalia, a known Death Eater. No matter how loyal Death Eaters were to their friends and family, Adira had seen how the cause could turn people against each other. But, like a cornered animal, she was too scared and frightened to do anything but lash out. “Get out!” 

[lhzthepoet]

Cities are built from ruins. I think people are too.

Midnight Excerpts #24 // L.H.Z (via lhzthepoet)

[missselwyn]

chrysons·:

His breath hitched, then stopped altogether as the tale unfolded, every last sordid detail pouring out, filling the air between them. He could picture it all, the thought of it burning into his mind. Adira—his Adira—surrounded by blood, her parents splayed like puppets across the dining room that he’d had the misfortune of seeing more than a few times in his life. It was scarring; it must have been unforgettable. And yet she had asked, wanted the closure. He was still processing it all as he voice dropped off into silence once more.

Chryson was taken aback as Adira hugged him back, drawing closer and narrowing the distance that had lingered between them, both physical and otherwise. It took only a second before he melted fully into the embrace, drawing her in as she tightened her grip on him and rested her head on his chest. He moved without thinking, his own head dropping to lean on hers, their bodies fitting together like they belonged—like they had never been apart. “I’m sorry.” He whispered the words into the silence, unsure what exactly it was that he was apologizing for—her parents’ deaths, the sight of their bodies, the violation of her house and the fear he was sure she felt, just like his family, whenever an auror was too near. Mostly, he thought, he was apologizing again for the fact that he hadn’t been there for any of it. As the silence draped over them again, time seemed to slow, and Chryson could have stayed there with Adira enveloping all his senses. But the spell broke as she pulled away.

As she moved, Chryson was nearly overwhelmed by a sense of loss, but the fear that the moment between them wouldn’t last was soothed as she stopped moving, looking up at him while still wrapped in his arms, still too gaunt and tired but looking somehow ever so slightly different than she had before. He words brought a smile to his lips. Truth be told, he could have stayed there forever, exactly like that, but that wasn’t what she was asking. “Of course we can.” He didn’t hesitate as he answered, though he was hesitant to let her go. “Whatever you want.” He wouldn’t push her, not until she was ready. He was just glad to be there, be with her. Reluctantly, he let her go, slowly dropping his arms from around her. Wanting to keep contact somehow, he nearly reached for her hand, but settled instead for her back. “Let’s catch up.”

The room was suddenly colder as he let her go, but Adira still felt the warmth of his presence, his smile. Merlin, she’d missed his smile. He looked so much older than his years sometimes, when she looked him in the eyes. But when he smiled, it was like watching him remember how young he was. She only wished she felt as young as she really was, when all she felt lately was aged and helpless. Hushing her own thoughts as she tried not to spoil the moment with too much melancholy, she thought about reaching for his hand, but decided to keep her distance. “I was in the dining hall before this, but maybe we should sit in the parlor instead.” As fortune would have it, she didn’t need to reach out for Chryson, because he reached out for her. As she began walking, she tried to keep an even and easy pace, eager for the last little bit of touch to linger for as long as she could help it. As she passed the portraits of her ancestors, they seemed to be looking down on the pair in disgust. Tensing softly, she turned her gaze away from them, focusing on the dark and cold hallway before them. It wasn’t a much better sight, but at least marble couldn’t judge her.

Turning sharply into the parlor, she lost the hand on her back, and was faced with the sight of at least six empty bottles of wine, surrounded by two half-filled and a bottle of whiskey from when Rion had been over three nights prior. That bottle was mostly-empty. “Sorry for the mess,” she said meekly, ashamed and embarrassed to have brought Chryson into that room. Surely he knew she was a bit of a mess, but did he really need to see this? Her cheeks flushed a bright red, and she found she couldn’t look at the man beside her. Quickly, she managed to rush inside and grab at least four of the bottles and magic them away, before turning to catch his gaze and stopping. What was the point? Her mildly decent mood destroyed, she moved to sit down on the couch, just then noticing how dark the room was without the fire’s glow.

“I--erm--” Suddenly, and for the first time in a while, Adira didn’t quite know what to say. They were supposed to catch up, and she wanted to, but found that all sense of words had left her. She used to be able to speak so freely around Chryson, at least, freer than she normally could. Look at me now. It was near frustrating. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, not for them. They were supposed to be happy. Both of them. The pair were supposed to be in love; they were supposed to be together. Being with him before all of this had fallen apart had been as easy as breathing. Now, the dramatic reunion all said and done, she found herself struggling to face him. The pause was thick between them, yet another barrier she was setting up for herself like a bloody idiot. Desperate to fill the empty space, she managed to spit out a few words. “Do you want some water?” A wine bottle, third on the table before her, was half-empty. “Or some wine?”