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Post by VICTOIRE DESIREE WEASLEY on Jan 9, 2012 19:31:23 GMT -5
. Christmas time was through, all of the garland and decorations were tightly sealed away with the supervision of Victoire, who assured that everything was safely and securely placed where it belonged. New Years had also whirred by, bringing in another new year, the first new year that Victoire would be spending with Thaddeus, and a boyfriend in general. Welcoming the new year had been casual at the Shell Cottage, a small gathering was stationed and when the clock struck midnight a bottle of champagne was popped to serve as a celebration. Things had been quieted, somberness falling over the family with the death of Dominique. The unexpected blow had come right before New Year’s Eve, Fleur finding out the bit from the radio updates that had become the only source keeping the certain branch of the Weasley family informed. Since Delacroix had cracked down with his decree Bill and Fleur had become hermits, readjusting to life with a price tag hanging over Fleur’s and the children’s heads. Her voice had grown shrill and the sobs had echoed throughout the whole house. Toire had followed in her maman’s suit, wailing a whole day before composing herself for the new year. They would celebrate, they had, for Dom and all of the others who had been sacrificed.
Everything about the new year spelt out trauma and suffering, no hopes and resolutions that would brighten the three hundred and sixty five days that were supposed to be eagerly anticipated. Victoire was not feeling light hearted or hopeful, and the only thing she could anticipate was another unexpected depart of a family member who she dearly loved. Thaddeus was by her side, giving comfort, which she had brushed off with ignorance each time. No one could comfort her, the world had taken away the closest thing to a best mate that she had ever possessed. Her sister, whose hair she would weave with her fingers and braid ribbons into, the sister who she had become fond of even when she had outshone her in the personality department. Funny, how her her sister had taken the stage even when she had been the younger one. No right in any way had been given to the higher powers to wrench the lively Weasley girl from the earth. Paths had been carved out for her, too many to count, and she would never be able to walk them. All hope in the world had been brushed off by Victoire with the death of her sister. Details were something she was lacking and they were something she didn’t wish to know. Dominique would never return home, that was all she needed to know.
In the flat her mood failed to have any obvious alterations. Work was now removed from the day, meaning she was back to lazing around like she had done when first being the ‘roommate’ of Thaddeus. Now as his girlfriend she found that it was acceptable to tug on one of his jumpers and do nothing more productive than lay in bed while she awaited from him to return. Half of the time when he came home she only would sit close to him, enjoy his company more than his actual words. Empty eyes served as an apology for her distance, which she couldn’t cure no matter how much logical whispered that she should be coming closer to him in a time of utter peril. Other things had been also happening with her that she had been ignoring because of their peculiarity. Her time of the month had come and gone, expected right after Christmas and never coming. Irregular she decided, because of all the stress she felt pressing onto her. Sometimes in the morning she would also begin to feel dizzy, for no actual explainable reason. This was exactly the case on this Saturday morning, where she bore her head into the pillow and let out a soft sigh. Thad had gone to the bathroom and now fuzzy spots fragmented her view. What was going on? |
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Post by thaddeus on Jan 15, 2012 16:53:09 GMT -5
Stepping out of the shower, he toweled his hair, and slipped on the clothes that he had prepared. It was January, and the students would be returning to school. Feeling a small stab in his heart that he had neglected his little sister during the Christmas holidays, he buttoned up his shirt. It had been hard to find a time to see his family, so he resolved to write Ly an owl later that day. Still, it didn't feel quite good enough, especially with Dom's passing. Ly wasn't part-veela, nor was she supernatural in any sense, so she was safe. But Thaddeus couldn't help that little niggling feeling that he could have shirked his responsibilities as an older brother. God knew that Theo was never going to step into that role. He told himself it would be fine, that it would all work out, because it always had before. But that sort of mentality had failed, and the whole Weasley family was devastated. He was an intruder, and he certainly should not have seen the tears that streaked down Fleur's face nor the pained expression that Bill wore around the house, but he wasn't going to leave, and let Victoire vanish. It was perhaps cold and heartless contrast the two Victoire's he had seen this holiday: the festive one bursting with joy, intent on sprucing up every corner of the cozy cottage, and the one that was barely able to rise out of their shared bed. He knew that he loved them both, but this latest version was starting to eat away at his soul, though he knew that compared to the pain that she felt, it was nothing.
Losing Theo, or Ly was nearly unthinkable to him. He and Theo had grown up side by side, even though they were certainly not the same, he loved him dearly and just the thought that his twin's life wasn't permanent brought a shiver to his spine. There was a war, and Theo was markedly more active in it than he was, so the possibility of life being snuffed out was always present. Had Victoire felt this way? As a part-veela, the seventh year would have had a price on her head, just like her sister and mother did. Of course the Ministry would have preferred her alive, pretty blonde girls with French manners were probably a welcome change from the more rangy wild werewolves that could do real damage. Dead, she wasn’t different from any other teenage girl, the spark in her eyes that he had admired over Christmas dinner would be gone. And Victoire’s vivacity, so tenuous, was gone as well. Thaddeus definitely believed in the whole “through thick and thin” mentality, but he wished that such a devastating event could have at least waited awhile before shocking them into submission. Their sex life, which had only just begun, had crumbled into non-being, and the death of a sibling wasn’t a blow that one could recover from quickly, even though Victoire insisted on going back to work and leaving her parents to stay in his flat again.
Padding out of the bathroom in his socks, he saw Victoire, face in her pillow, still in her pajamas. Stepping over quickly to the bed, he sat on the edge closest to her and stroked her blonde hair. He still wasn’t sure, even after the weeks that had passed since Dom’s murder, how tightly he should hold her, and how much he should nudge her to recovery. Because she couldn’t stay this droopy forever, could she? He swallowed the lump in his throat that formed when he realized that if Theo died, he would never be happy. Was it possible that Victoire might not give him a genuine smile again? Rolling onto his side, he pressed his body comfortingly against hers, snaking an arm around her waist, burying his nose into her warm neck. “Good morning, love,” he murmured against her skin.
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Post by VICTOIRE DESIREE WEASLEY on Jan 15, 2012 17:40:03 GMT -5
. Thaddeus' reasons were wholly justified, every single one of them. Just as much as Victoire's explanation for moping could be supported with a solid counter. On top of losing her sister, Dominique, her uncle, Harry Potter himself, had went through with ultimate sacrifice. Left behind in his wake as a sea of calamity he had clearly predicted would come of the Wizarding World had he moved on into the afterlife. Victoire had dried up her well of tears long before the new year had arrived, now she relied on sulking and moping as her methods to alleviate a fraction of her moroseness. Thad's awareness over her current state could not keep her from resorting to laying in bed all day, not even making the tiniest motion to use the bathroom or retrieve food to nourish her body. Her agony could not be even fluttered over by Thaddeus unless he was thrown into her place. Theo and Ly were well, maybe shaken up or in the line of danger, but still an active part of their brother's life. Dominique was no more than a few fond memories, which would fade away into nothingness as time progressed. Time could heal over the wounds, working them into scars, but at the same time it would dull the imprints Domino had left on Victoire. Eventually Dominique would exist no longer, be only a pretty imaginary thing that the world had cruelly invented to torture Toire and everyone else's lives she had touched.
Clips played in her mind as she lumped herself on the bed. Films of the defining moments she could recall from Dominique rolled on endlessly behind her eyelids, haunting Victoire and at the same time giving her comfort. There were not many occasions Victoire could summon upon with clarity. Ironic, since Dominique made herself memorable with her flamboyant personality and stunts that circulated talk lasting for months. Her pranks struck Toire's mind with the most color, working a small smile onto her face, hardly noticed but still present. Thaddeus hovered around, constantly checking in on Toire to probably assure she was still well. Not well, just breathing and in a relative state of conscious. His girlfriend had pretty much transformed into a vegetable. On top of the numbness her body was not cooperating. Stomach knots and odd pangs of hunger plagued her body though she swore she had not the slightest aching for food of any sorts. Sadness cancelled out logic, the one thing Toire depended direly on when tragedy struck. Once realization hit she would be severely whacking her palm against her face at her blatant show of obliviousness. Otherwise she effortlessly would have made the connections, which were basically colored neon with irritating signs making their existence unavoidable. Obnoxious signs that Victoire had turned her view from due to the blue streams of somberness traveling throughout her body to leave her levels past novocaine numb.
When had Thad even climbed off the bed and silently padded his way to the shower to assure he didn't awake her? It had been a while she had aroused herself from sleep. The internal clock that hummed in her still jarred her awake at the times which worked in accord to her schedule of work. Her numbness now was spreading to her senses to leave her nothing more than a skeleton. It could have been very possible she would wake herself in actual consciousness had Thad urged her, pleading and begging. But he had only been drifting away, leaving her space that she was only going to fill with more of the sable sadness. She forced herself to turn over to lay on her back, a groan of effort accompanying the task which should have required no thought at all. He must have known she was thinking of, because in the next instant Thaddeus was spreading metaphorical warmness through her, causing her skin to tingle with his nose pressed to her neck. "It's not a good morning. It hasn't been in a while," she countered, voice slightly rasped from lack of use. Still, her fingers habitually pressed against his chest, a light sparking the tiniest bit in her eye. "It can't be when I have felt the same sickness for the past two weeks." Trivial speak, truthful, but still trivial to purposely direct away from the source of her problems. |
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Post by thaddeus on Jan 22, 2012 21:04:48 GMT -5
A jolt prickled through his skin. What if Dom’s death was a bad omen, signifying that the longer Thaddeus stayed with Victoire, the longer he would ruin her life? Could this, as well as Harry Potter’s, the Golden Boy’s death be a warning that worse things were to come if they continued their relationship? And even if that wasn’t true, which Thaddeus acknowledged was very possible, it could have the same affect if Victoire started to associate those feelings of mourning and being in the doldrums with him. Perhaps she would find it easier to start new with someone who hadn’t seen her shaking with anger and despair, someone to usher in better times. Or perhaps she would fall back on Teddy, who could remind her of the sunnier times, tell her that Dom would be proud of her, bring up those happy little memories when she needed it most. Thad fell into an awkward sort of limbo category, neither fresh enough to help her start again with someone that hadn’t seen the pain, or console her properly, like Teddy could. He had no idea how relationships really worked, he knew that they were supposed to cherish each other, and he was doing all the cherishing he could do. Still, it felt like it was all in vain, like no matter how much he reached out and rubbed himself raw for her she wouldn’t feel any lighter or warmer.
Shifting closer to her, hearing the creak of the bed, he watched her breathe like it was laborious, her ribcage rise and fall like the rolling of the ocean outside. This was as much as she could move. Dominque was sure lively, what he had seen of her in their week together, anyway, but Victoire used to be too. She would go for a morning broomride every day and she had those little adorable bursts of energy sometimes, flouncing around the flat, pulling Thad around with her. It was tragically poetic, the way that part of Victoire had perished along with Dom. Absolutely heartwrenching, feeling her heartbeat sound dully in her chest, like it was just ticking down the seconds until it too stopped, petrifying along with her sister’s. She had rejected all the food that he had offered her, wondering if it was his cooking that was turning her off, ordering in, picking up, even trying some Malay food for the first time. But her denial to feed herself was enough to worry him into a sort of nausea as well. Sometimes, he would feel his hands shake during the day when he was at work, not optimal for a trainee surgeon, and he would find some baby carrots or whatever his colleagues might offer him, and he would be physically repulsed, and he felt like he was seeing whatever Victoire did when she saw food. It sustained life, but she must be rather disdainful of life, seeing that it always led to an untimely demise anyway. Food was a luxury that Dominque couldn’t indulge in anymore, so he wasn’t sure if he shouldn’t as well.
Watching Victoire heave herself onto her back, he felt a sharp pang in his chest. Had he let her get this way? Had he abandoned his role as boyfriend to let her wallow by herself? These thoughts drew him closer to her, until he was practically wrapped around her side like a second blanket. It wasn’t even sexual, the skeleton-like, dead Victoire could only arouse the feelings of deepest pity for him. He would give up his own vitality to replace some of hers, that would make him much happier than being stuck in this better mental state. Seeing her happy would make him happier, though he was sure that if he was happy now, that would just make her sadder. “It can’t be a terrible morning, though, can it?” he asked gently, relishing the feeling of her fingers on his chest. He pressed his lips lightly to her cool neck, letting the bridge of his nose graze her jaw. “We’re together.” Wrinkling his brow and turning onto his belly to look up at her, he asked, “Are you sick?” Perhaps she was just referencing the pains in her heart, but he was a doctor, or was going to be one, and he had to make sure she was in the best physical condition, at least.
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