@andrmdablck
The howler (because leave it to Eden Parkinson to never send a silent letter) had arrived early, with the rest of the morning mail. Crimson and vibrating when Katrina had awoken to find it, dread settling deep into the pit of her stomach before she even undid the ribbon. News from her family was never welcomed, though it had become a frequent occurrence since moving back out. Always under their thumb. Wonderful. It was nothing new, nothing unexpected - nothing Katrina didn’t already know. Dinner on Saturday. Six o’clock - don’t be late. An unspoken condition of allowing her out of the manor, weekly dinner. As if being forced back into the family hadn’t been brutal enough.
Her mother’s voice rang through the flat for the rest of the morning, and come early afternoon, Katrina could feel her sanity quickly fading away. The howler had shredded itself to bits once the message was received, but it echoed long after. Digging her wand off her bedside table, Katrina sent a patronus to Andromeda - I’m coming - before enchanting a spare quill to a portkey. It was, without a doubt, her least favorite way of traveling but it was safer than attempting to apparate through wards or having to find a bloody fireplace. Katrina had one, of course, but refused to connect it to the floo system purely to attempt keeping her mother away. Spiteful - but necessary. Moments later, the familiar sensation of a hook behind her belly button appeared, jolting her until her feet landed securely in Andromeda’s living room. “I’m in hell.” Katrina called in greeting, knees going weak as she slouched down to the ground. It wasn’t a proper greeting, but Andromeda continued to be her oldest (closest) friend. Glancing away from her fixed gaze at the ceiling, she managed a weak smile, releasing a heavy sigh. “- Hey. I’m sorry for just showing up. It’s possible I finally went a bit mad.”