“There is nothing more we can do.”
“That’s not–it’s not true!” Hestia cried, swiping at her eyes angrily. “It’s not!” It was hard to look at the carnage of the offices that had housed the non-profit, though. Someone had firebombed it, or rather the wizarding equivalent of fire-bombing. “This isn’t the end!” she cried, looking earnestly at Mary.
“Mary, this isn’t,” she said again, panicking a little when the older girl wouldn’t meet her gaze. “This is just…it’s more of the same!” she cried, arms gesturing wildly. Desks had been reduced to rubble, papers to ash. There was the smell of melted plastic hanging heavy in the air, and Hestia already felt like she needed a shower. But that wasn’t the point. The more dejected Mary looked, the more it enraged Hestia. Not at her friend, but at the people who time and again attacked them.
Hestia stepped forward, grasping Mary’s forearms. “Mary please,” she pleaded, forcing Mary to meet her eyes. “They keep doing this to us, but they only win if we let them. If we give up.” Hestia’s throat felt tight, and she wasn’t sure if it was from the smoke or wanting to cry or scream her frustrations out.
“They’re just trying to scare us. A ‘we know where you live’ sort of thing. But what is this? It’s just office space. No one was here at the time.” Thank Helga. Seeing the destruction and hateful messages written on the surrounding buildings was bad enough. If anyone had died….Hestia shook the thought away. She was already trembling. They had been on their way here for a meeting. If anyone had arrived early….
“We can’t give up Mary,” she said vehemently. “Please. There is always more we can do. You can’t–you don’t–this place, these people…you mean so much to me. Please don’t give up now. Please.”
