A DIVERGING PATH
→ have you been re-introduced to DORCAS MEADOWES? last we heard, the PUREBLOOD was most familiar with TIMELINE ONE. I don’t recall if they were always a RAVENCLAW, but I’ve heard the seventh year. is still LOYAL, STRATEGIC, OBSERVANT and INDECISIVE, OVERTHINKING, RETICENT, so that’s familiar. at least SHE remembers their way around the castle.
THEIR LIFE IN FULL
→ “dad, why is my name dorcas?” “why is the sky blue?” the two had a chess date every saturday afternoon that carried into her hogwarts years. he’d make the trip to the castle just to spend some quality time and when dorcas was old enough to go on hogsmeade trips, they’d find their spot in madame puddifoots amidst the couples and giggling girls in the shop. belarus loved being surrounded by so many happy and smitten people, dorcas could see how he thrived, how he practically fed off of it like he was in deficit of it – of love. if dorcas was being honest with herself ( which, she rarely was ) she knew that things with her parents weren’t right, she knew her father and her mother didn’t really love each other the way they should’ve, the way the couples around them did, but she didn’t concern herself with that then. she was playing to win and this chess game she might’ve had a chance. belarus gave a knowing smile, he knew his daughter well, he knew she was really really trying this time, but he was not going to give her the win. no matter how much she tried to distract him with nonsensical questions. “it’s because it fits you,” he started, while dorcas shot him look that said how could you think the name dorcas fits ANYONE. “i’m serious, i knew you’d be a dork the minute you came out of your mother’s womb.” “you think you’re so funny, don’t you?” “i like to think i’m clever, yes.” “you’re not quick, though,” dorcas announced triumphantly as the final move was made, a checkmate about to be declared. a semi-stunned belarus leaned back in his chair and admired his daughter’s resourcefulness, her quick wit, he didn’t know if in that moment she’d have made a better slytherin than ravenclaw, but he thought she could’ve been a BRILLIANT one. an argument could’ve been made that dorcas, in another life, would’ve been a slytherin, maybe if she’d grown up differently, maybe if she had to rely more on self-preservation than she did at cleverly hiding things away she didn’t want the world to know. if she had a quick wit that stung because hers soared, it carried her above the masses, it made her a formidable chess rival because she was able to see more from the towers than the dungeons. from afar. observant for the sake of learning, not just for survival. maybe she’d learned from the best, watching her father all these years, an imitation act that became an identity. “checkmate,” dorcas smiled, bouncing in her seat, a bright smile on her face. in that moment, she could’ve screamed with joy, but it wasn’t the victory that was the most important to her – it was finally giving her father a worthy opponent. it wasn’t just student surpassing teacher, it was finally a meeting of EQUALS. belarus would always complain to dorcas about how dull the people at the pureblood societal events they went to were, the older she got the more he felt comfortable complaining and being so open, but he was never open enough. even though he was her father, dorcas knew he needed a friend, she hoped she could be as much as a friend to him as he was to her. dorcas had a ready mind, she could tell that her father was not happy, that he was pretending more often than not, it was something they had in common. at least they could brave this world. TOGETHER.
→ no one gave any speeches. no one remembered belarus like dorcas did. her father, her monument, her soul – no one gave a shit, not a real one, besides dorcas. no one wanted to give more attention to the shameful tragedy that was belarus ending his life, they all thought him weak, unmanly, pathetic. some say that death sweetens the memory but for belarus, for everyone else but dorcas, it made the memory of his existence and how it ended left a bitter taste in everyone’s mouths. they barely spoke his name. the family who he’d left behind barely able to comprehend what he’d done – dorcas was no exception. she was the closest to him. she remembers begging her mother to let her give a eulogy, to do something for her father’s memory, but it was all a cut and dry affair. there could be no tragedy if they didn’t mourn him like one, denial was their friend, her mother would coo into her ear and though dorcas knew she was right ( denial had been a dear friend over the years ) it didn’t feel like the right thing when it came to her father’s passing. this struck dorcas meadowes as she was often NOT concerned on whether or not she was doing the right thing. every year she leaves a charmed peace lily that lasts an entire month without any additional care ( because who else besides dorcas would visit him? ), every year there’s a period of time where dorcas just shuts herself in her bathtub and reads. not the prophet, which once held belarus’ obituary and a small section reserved for the meadowes family and their contribution to society, but the books she used to read with her father that she doesn’t touch any other days of the year. dorcas, who has always had various preparations for anything she did now lived by the little rituals to help her get through the monotony of her life without her father. the extensive skin care routine. the bi-weekly hair masks made by her own hands, diligently crafted in her cauldron. the way she redid and color coded the notes she had for all her classes every saturday afternoon at the end of the week. making her bed, the corners perfectly in place, every morning. rituals which help her maintain some semblance of balance without him around, to help her cope, that have become staples in her life that help her gather up the endurance to continue being her. she goes on that way, the dorcas meadowes shown to the world is clever and knows what to say, know how to say the right things and when, is kind and is your friend, but not your best friend. she’s popular and known, she’s warm but distant, she’s an enigma to some but really she’s just a girl who knew the ART of surviving and knew how to make the best out of a situation that was impossible. that she couldn’t escape from. that she wouldn’t dream to escape from because why should she? the money, the access, the lack of personal fulfillment was easy to mask, she had the PRIVILEGE to do so much – she could do so much more from within should she ever want to lift a finger to do more than she did. there was nothing morally against her life, it might’ve killed her father, but how could she leave? her friends who meant the world to her were still by her side, the ones she’d grown up with, her mother may not have loved her but she had a legacy, a birthright, she had a place in society that was too precious to give up and she knew it. dorcas knew it, even if it killed her too, that her life was textbook-ly too good to leave. still, she wondered, why couldn’t her father have stayed? at his funeral she looked at him, his body, one last time before he was put into the ground and could only wonder why? she always thought she understood him, that she understood how he felt, but had she? had she ever? had she really? when she could still stay in this world while he was gone?
→ had dorcas meadowes ever been loved by her mother? TRULY LOVED? given a hug not based on merit but because when you love someone so much you just can’t help but to physically cherish them, their existence, to express it in physical touch. had she ever given her daughter a kiss on the cheek before bed, wishing her sweet dreams, reading bedtime story upon bed time story until her imagination was quelled into a sleep filled with dreams &technicolor fantasies? ( dorcas doesn’t dream anymore. if it’s not a dark sleep, it’s a SCENE. it’s a flashback. it’s the coroner’s report. her father’s casket buried into the ground. bottles of merlot broken upon marble floors – was his blood that red too when he passed? it’s QUESTION AFTER QUESTION, it’s maze after maze. dorcas DOESN’T dream anymore. ) had her mother ever made her laugh so hard her mascara smudged, had she ever ever spent hours upon hours playing chess with her? had they read in their library in tandem, sitting in a comfortable silence for hours on end? had they ever sat on the balcony in their villa at lake como and talked about the world, about the stars ( she never listened or cared much about them but when belarus talked about the stars, about anything, you listened ). had she ever gone to paris with her and serenaded her on the tip top of the eiffel tower? had her mother spent hours answering EVERY question dorcas ever had? had she run through the streets of rome with her, flown on a broomstick at night around the colosseum ( what fun would being a wizard be if we can’t break into muggle monuments, my doe? ). had she jumped in the turquoise waters of santorini and spoken extremely horrible greek with a tired dorcas carried on her shoulders? had she ever helped her when it wasn’t in her best interest to do so? had she ever let her daughter have the option of being ANYTHING but her own personal atlas? ( her mother spent hours lost in booze, lost in anger, in a rage that dorcas could understand, could feel herself some days but with a Sterling Silver Role Model like her mother she vowed to never EVER be like her. her children would never know their mother blacked out, slurred speech, screaming, her children would only know chess, kindness, laughter, charms &gentleness – this she VOWS. ) dorcas wishes she could’ve lightened the load he felt, she hopes, she ( dreams ) knows that having just ONE month with him she could finally understand why he did what he did, why he left her, why she wasn’t enough to tie him to this earth for even a few years more when they BOTH could’ve made their escape? didn’t he know she’d follow him to the ends of the earth, didn’t he know he was her world, her stars, her sky, her OCEAN? if she had told him more, if only she had written him more letters. it kept her up at night, thinking of why she wasn’t enough and what more she could’ve done because when she looked back, she knew there was always so much more she could’ve been & done for him, dorcas wondered too – did he know something she didn’t about leaving this society? was she forever trapped like him, was DEATH the only way out, was that why he did it? why, why, why, she made herself sick with the why but that wasn’t as important as the gift that having one more month with him would be. maybe, with their minds combined – she could bring him back. PERMANENTLY. ( at least with a month she could let him know she LOVED him, she’d go to the ends of the world with & for him, that he was so so loved by her, that at least if she could only have ONE month, if life was to be even crueler than it already had been by giving her so much yet so little time, dorcas could let her father know he was LOVED. some people would be angry, sure, she was angry, but not at him. at everyone else around him. at his wife, her mother, but merlin, he was loved. that would be enough. ) lie. she needed so much more.
A WORLD UPSIDE DOWN
→ dorcas lets herself live in such denial, lets herself push down every doubt she has and any intent on acting on it easily because there is no need to act. but in the other timelines? there was. in one, voldemort won – she knows deep down she couldn’t have stood idly by and feels a deep sense of agony at the idea of doing so & getting confirmation that she didn’t is both relieving and terrifying. abandoning the people she grew up with ( because that’s what it is at the end of the day to those in pureblood society, ABANDONMENT ) is something she couldn’t see herself doing in her original timeline, but knowing she could should the political climate call for it, that her morals won out, that they always will – gives her hope. it’s intriguing as well, getting proof that other timelines and alternative universes exist. fascinating for someone who’s already interested in the great beyond and fantasy worlds she’s read in her books but realizing she was living in a utopia compared to the other timelines is sobering. seeing the people she cares about in other timelines suffering through other universes while she’s in her ivory tower is guilt-inducing as well. it’s a wake up call, because dorcas never would’ve described herself as unhappy in her timeline now but seeing other timelines makes her realize things she’s been trying to hide from herself for so long and it’s scary.
PLAYED BY — JINX FACECLAIM — MOON GA YOUNG
