#cheimon

[fleurbleedinghearts]

Selene is such a girlmom she has either 55 or 56 daughters who are all immortal whereas the only son she ever has (who's not even her son in several sources) is Narcissus

[thewavesbrokeontheshore]

Hagia Sophia during the snowfall in Istanbul, 1940s

[er-cryptid]

The Four Seasons in Greek Mythology

-- daughters of Helios and Selene

-- handmaidens of Hera

-- Eiar = spring

-- Theros = summer

-- Phthinoporon = autumn

-- Cheimon = winter

Patreon | Ko-fi

[cybergriffon]

[thewavesbrokeontheshore]

Kaimaktsalan 

[ancientgreekgods]

Cheimon

[the-littlest-lioness]

cheimon | Katie Thorne | Self para

"Cheimon."

A long piece of wood slashed through the air, the door glowing white.

"Cheimon."

Another slash of the wand with the dark zig-zag patterns turned the door a pale yellow.

"Cheimon."

The last slash as the door pulsed turning a hot fire red.

Katie watched as the spell took, and her password was accepted. Katie pressed a hand to the door and whispered out, "Cheimon." The latin rolled off her tongue, it meant tempest and it described her world right now. Everything was rolling about her, nothing was stable, everything was going mad. But this place, her potions room was the eye of the storm and she knew it, she was safe here, nothing could hurt her or touch her here. No ex-girlfriends, no leaders asking of dangerous missions, no failing classes and no expectations, no un-replied letters and the eyes of various schoolmates who judged her for her personal relationships. Best of all, no Meg, Olivia or Val to run into in the hallways. Just the bubbling of her potions, the smell of cooper, fire and sulfur and a nice soft sofa. 

Katie was lounging on her sofa, eyes closing as she spied from her potions the stack of books in the corner, dusted over, things she had dragged down here in a box over a year ago. She sat there contemplating whether or not she ought to look, she after all had nothing better to do. But it was filled with things from previous years, notebooks and random bits and pieces. "Perhaps it'll be worth my time..." Katie sighed and sat up, flicking her wand the box floated to her as it dropped lightly onto her lap. Huffing lightly at it's weight on her thighs she began to rummage, broken quils dropped the floor, parchment covered in writing from classes, some notes and random words she could barely make out. Then there were books, books she never returned to the library, a joke book she nicked from Filch's office.

Sitting in about a mountain of dust was a bound book, a bright purple with gold zig zags all about it and Katie laughed and grabbing it shoved the cardboard box to the side. "Merlin and Agrippia. Is this where you've been?" Katie laughed and flicking through the page she saw early chicken scratch of little Katie's handwriting. She read through her elation in potions class, her new friends Meg, Carmen and Fiona. Meeting Bennett and fancying him, notes on pranks and ways to charm things, her first detention and hanging out with Brandon in detention. She felt her eyes prickle as she read through her entire first year, her final entry reading. "I can't wait to come back home next year." Katie held the book close to her chest and closed her eyes as she remembered the early days of Hogwarts. Of shy Fiona and boisterous Bennett, being called a mudblood and finding something she was finally good at. Her exhilaration mixing potions, her ability in charms and the way she attracted people to her. Making her so happy. 

"What happened to you Katie?" she whispered to herself. "When did you become so... conflicted." Katie missed her simplicity, missed being nothing more than what she was. She missed her friend and not having to deal with drama, missed doing nothing but her work and hanging out with her friends. Missed everything being uncomplicated that she wasn't nervous about her school being invaded, about her friends being attacked to dying. She missed not having to fear for her own death, and missed not being so stressed and on edge constantly.

Katie wasn't ready for this.

She wasn't ready for this sort of responsibility that came with age. She wanted freedom to go where she pleased, please who she wanted to, love freely and live without fear of walking outside or going for a morning run. She hated what this equal rights movement began to do to her, began to seep into her life and endanger the one place she was supposed to be always safe. She wanted to hate the werewolves for this shit stinking up the castle, but she believed as well what they were fighting for, that they deserved the same rights as any other witch or wizard in this world. 

She stared at the dusty book in her hand and spotted an unbroken quill at the bottle of the box, summoning to her side an inkwell. Flipping open the booklet she stared down into it, her fingers tracing over the thinning and see through paper, muggle paper and she almost laughed. Dipping the quill into her inkwell she watched the black ink drip onto the white page like oil, dark and thick. Pressing her thumb into the large drip she held it there as she began to think. Pulling her thumb she began to write.

Dear First Year Katie

I'm mad you know, stark raving mad for writing to myself from over six years ago. It's been a long time since I've first walked into this castle and I'm we are going to be seventh years next year and I can't help but wonder what exactly happened at turned me from such a happy go lucky lass into this... brooding and faking each laugh and smile that comes from my throat and grace my lips. Why pranks aren't fun. Why potions bore me and charms don't make my fingers tingle. Why my wand has become restless and often hums in my pocket as if searching for an adventure or a fight. Why everywhere I turn someone's crying, someone's breaking up, there are lies and deceit coming from the papers and Ministry and why I feel like I'm being swallowed whole by it all. 

Little Katie you don't understand, if you ever read this you'd probably look at me with wide brown eyes and ask why I can't just find a bright side. Why humor isn't good enough anymore, why it's not helping anymore, why I can't be normal again. But it's not so simple. Little Katie you grew up and got to the point where laughter and pranks was something to hide behind and not something to use to bleed the poison in your heart. When potions became tainted with wanting nothing more than recognition from someone who'll never give it to you. Where charms became easy and it's simple easy magic began to bore you. Where your fears began to become real, when you realized your true fear isn't heights or falling but being forgotten by the ones you loved mostly because before you were already lost from two people who loved you. There's so much more left to lose now Little Katie. So much more danger in today's world than you would ever know. I'm scared.

You Little Katie would have never admitted that, you should have taken all our words to heart; nerve, chivalry, courage and daring. You would have never admitted that you were scared, you had pride. I have pride still, but I have to admit now that I'm scared. Scared that one night I'll awake to our doors being bored down upon, scared that I'll get another talk from Markle about one of us in the hospital... again, scared I'll get that letter from Uncle stating that I'm out of the house. I'm scared for Ava and Carmen, Olivia and Rei, Keller and my dormmates, my boys, I'm scared for our family, they who'll become our family. I've never been so scared in my life I think, and it's not even an immediate danger I can hex, it's sneaking around the corner, poisoning our government and newspaper and I don't know what I can do. Well I do, I'm seeking information, seeking a way to fight and help anyway I can.

I have never told anyone this, I haven't said a thing, but I'm with Keller and we're breaking into the Ministry of Magic, I'm about to break into the Ministry and if I get caught I'll ruin our entire lives for a bit of information. Yet I can't help but be happy about it, happy that finally I can do something. Something about this Lysander, something about this Lowell, something to protect the ones I love. They'll be so angry when they find out. Fiona, Meg, Naomi, Ava and Olivia, Marcus and the boys. If they ever find out that I'm doing this I'll be hexed so many ways. But I have to, Marcus and my boys will understand, so will Ava... but the rest of them will be angered with me. I have my theories about all of this though, I don't pretend that I know why this is happening. 

I believe.... that there are two groups of werewolves. I believe that there is the group in the London protesting, talking to the press, but then I believe that there's a group of radicals who're seeking a more... violent way to get their laws, for whatever reason they're coming to Hogwarts. They want to threaten us, they want to bring down the Ministry by using us. That's why I think Zane was bitten, and I think Fiona was attacked because she was getting too close to the truth whatever that is. But I don't know.... there are so many possibilities. They want to attack us, threaten us, press us until we break and ask our parents to help, beg for assistance and pass laws to get what they want. I fear for us. 

At the same time that I'm so scared. I'm bloody fuckin' angry. I'm angry at whoever bit Fiona, angry over why I can't sleep soundly anymore, angry that I can't quite figure out where to fight, where to aim a hex or curse. I don't know who's a threat, I don't know what everyone is thinking. I'm sleeping worse, I've taken to sneaking out, I've been drinking a little more, been angrier and more edgier. I've been getting into more fights, been practically chomping at the bit. Nothing is right anymore. I've gotten more detentions and I've been trying so very hard to bloody fucking stop pressing everything down. I can't hide my eyes anymore, I can't pretend that I'm not sad and so broken inside. I can't hide behind fireworks anymore, I can't smile at Olivia or Meg without feeling my heart bursting and they know it, I can't crack a joke at Olivia without her blue eyes staring at me and knowing that I'm not OK.

I'm stuck in this storm Little Katie, I feel bit and pieces of myself being swept up by the torrents and the rain hitting me back. I keep seeing the world go mad and my friend going mad and I want nothing more than to just stand up and scream that I won't fall, I won't break, I won't allow myself to be thrown into this damn tempest, this Cheimon. I almost want it too... I almost want to fall down and allow myself to stop trying to fight, stop being scared, stop fearing and just let things take their natural course. But I can't. I have my pride still. I won't let it.

This is partially a letter to myself, to that part of me that is still pure and idealistic, the part that knows pain but refuses to acknowledge it. I want to write to myself that I'll keep fighting. That through all of these challenges I'll remain a true Gryfindor and refuse to give up, refuse to stop fighting, be courageous and brave and have the nerve to stand in this storm and scream that I won't stop fighting.

I won't stop Little Katie. I swear upon Mom and Dad that I won't stop fighting and that I'll do anything to keep my family safe... my little sister Ava, my sisters in Gryffindor, my brothers, my best-friend Carmen, my drunken friend Rei, the girl I love but can't love anymore Olivia. I will protect my family. I swear that I will fight for them, die for them, risk Azkaban for them. I want answers and I want their safety and until that happens I don't care how conflicted I am, how scared, how fearful, how close to death or freedom that I am. I will stay. I will fight. I will wheather this storm. 

Cheimon means tempest in Greek. My name means 'she is the summit' and summits are the peaks of mountains, and mountains do not bow to tempests, no matter how strong. 

So dear Little Katie please remind me how I got here. That's all I need...

With love and courage

Katie E. Thorne.