headstones & flowers
WHEN. june 19, 1984, mid-morning
WHERE. Prewett Estate, near the Infirmary
WHO. @regulus-blacked
The soft click! pause thump! of Xenophilius’s boots on the floor accompanied the tap of his walking cane quite nicely. The handle was ornate, a little rabbit, a gift from his father, and Xeno had taken care of it well. He’d made sure to oil the wood, keep the ornamentation polished and in good repair. It was, after all, one of the few instruments he had to relieve some of the pain he experienced.
Now, keep in mind, Xenophilius did not use the cane, nor his other walking aids, all the time, but if he apparated into the estate with one hooked over his arm, one should be sure to keep their distance, for one wrong movement or an accidental collision would lance pain like dragon’s fire across his body, spiraling down his hips into his thighs. It had happened before, as unfortunate as that may be, and Xeno knew well enough by now to make his trips to see Severus straight and to the point. The pain potions the other wix brewed were brilliant, and they, and a mix of Muggle medications, helped keep his pain at bay.
That being said, Xeno was in such a hurry today that he didn’t clear his corners like he normally would, colliding solidly with another person. Doing so left him gasping, a wordless scream, as he clutched at the wall beside them. Normally he would catch whoever it was he’d run into, but the tears in his eyes prevented him from seeing anymore than a blurry outline for a few moments. When Xeno had caught his breath enough to speak, he did so, apologizing profusely. It was with a whimper that he noticed the other wix’s aid, the way their leg stuck out at an odd angle, and curiosity dawned.
“Forgive me, for many things as it were, but...I don’t believe we’ve met? Certainly not the way I’d want to do so but -” Xenophilius gave the smallest of shrugs, even that movement making his joints and muscles scream. “-sometimes these hallways are much too small.”
