#dmndmyth

[hoggleswart]

Time was a strange thing.  Sometimes it went too slow,  like tonight.  Ezekiel felt as though he had been trapped in this suit for centuries,  when in reality,  it had been mere hours.  Possibly even less.   —   Other times,  however,  it seemed to all but disappear in the blink of an eye.  He can remember,  clear as any picture Dennis Creevey had captured tonight,  the last time he saw Rolanda.  Their final conversation felt like only yesterday,  when he knew in reality,  it had been far longer.  Too long,  the Ministry - man might even argue.   —   Not a single person would be surprised to learn that Zeke didn’t have a lot of acquaintances and he had even less people he would willingly call friend.  Communication was far from his strongest skill,  but somewhere down the line,  a bond between him and the Quidditch coach had formed.  Enough that a part of him had,  uncharacteristically,  missed her company during their time apart.  Whether she felt like the same is yet to be seen.  For two people once so close,  they didn’t part on the best terms.  It’s because of this that he hasn’t rushed over.  Instead,  he’s hovered at a distance,  attempting  (  failing  )  to plot the best approach.  If there even was a best approach. 

An opening presents itself when observant eyes spy a drunken individual bothering her.   —   Or at least,  Ezekiel assumes they’re bothering her.  There is,  of course,  a chance Rolanda might be enjoying their presence.  Deciding to take the risk,  he quietly orders a drink he knows she likes before heading over.  It takes one,  silent look from Zeke to scare persuade the other guest to leave them and glass is placed down on the table beside his old friend.  He didn’t speak.  Words had always been a rarity between them and right now,  the relationship felt too fragile to risk saying the wrong thing.  Better to just present an olive branch in action,  nudging that carefully - chosen drink a little closer.  If she accepted,  Zeke would know not all was lost.  If she declined   —   well.  He’d survived worse rejection. 

𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍:      the ministry of magic  𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆:      @dmndmyth​

[labyrinthed]

who: merlin & lancelot ( @dmndmyth​​ ) when: timestamp 001. where: merlin’s home, blightbird.

how many years does it take to forget something? or maybe forgive is the better word, but it sounds more dire.

the answer varies, really, especially when it comes to anyone longer lived than the average mortal lifespans. everything seems to intensify: love, hate, grief, all of it. and then eventually things level out. they numb. you get far enough away from the event and look back. it almost seems quaint then. strange, to have invested so deeply. and then there’s the round table, which is something that still lingers in merlin’s mind, as clear as the day it was formed. it took machinations and schemes and plans and one simple thing to destroy it, which, of course, was love.

not that he entirely blames lancelot. it’s become clear that the heart does what it will, and that’s part of the reason that he sometimes invites lancelot over to tea.

“i hope there’s not a scarf hidden somewhere on you,” he says to her, half-distracted by the arranging of mugs, varying degrees of ugly and mangled. “at this rate i’ll have to start making requests. maybe a blanket for one of the cats. nina’s frightened easily and likes to burrow under things.” the cat in question peers out from under merlin’s coat, left hanging on the back of a chair and pulled down by unruly claws, her ears back. he pulls his coat back up and shoos her away from the chair. “ah — how have you been? well, i hope?”

merlin has never really said the word forgive aloud between them, but to him, actions could maybe be synonyms enough. they matter more than the words.