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| D'Abugine Family Cemetary | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jul 27 2010, 03:07 PM (79 Views) | |
| Andy Grant | Jul 27 2010, 03:07 PM Post #1 |
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The cat and mouse game she was playing with Sebastien was slowly wearing her out, she was ready to give up, but she wasn’t ready to face the consequences; jail wasn’t an option. When she found herself opening her eyes, she had to adjust to the moonlight as it seemed much brighter where she was than it had been on the beach, before realizing where she stood. Stones the shade of heather, slate and charcoal were erected around her and she looked down, choking. The bottle in her hand was dropped, spilling amber liquid on the freshly mown grass, much like her eyes started spilling tears. This time, Andromeda’s tears were not ones of fear or anger, these were tears of true sadness and gut wrenching pain. Here, she stood in front of her mother’s headstone and around she looked and saw other members of the D’Abugine family. Falling to her knees, the grass felt cold even through the fabric of her pants, she moved forward; clutched the headstone and yelped in pain amidst the sobs. Edited by Andy Grant, Jul 28 2010, 02:51 PM.
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| Kevin_D'Abugine | Jul 28 2010, 12:46 PM Post #2 |
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Air. That was the first cognitive thought that rushed back into his skull: there was air now. It had been squeezed out of him for at least ten seconds, lungs constricting by the sudden side-apparition. Kevin hated that feeling; he always had preferred brooms or even hippogriffs to apparition. At least when he apparated himself though, he didn’t get assaulted without knowing it. Honestly struggling to breathe for a few minutes, water was swimming in Kevin’s eyes as he curled his hand around …something…besides him, steadying himself and massaging his throat. A deep calming breath—more like twelve of them—brought consciousness screaming back and he looked up. He was holding a gravestone. Releasing it in shock, he looked around; Andromeda’s distant cries were pricking at his ears He was in the D’Abugine graveyard, a tiny family burial ground buried in the back of the forest beyond their manor. He hadn’t been in this house in several years, let alone the graveyard. At that moment he’d been clutching the tombstone for a ‘Arthur D’Abugine [1732—1783]’, one whom Kevin had honestly never heard of. He had never truly been educated in D’Abugine history as his mother was a Faye and his father…well, he’d died when Kevin was seven. That was his grave over there. Brow furrowing as he gazed at it, he spun around determinedly looking for Andromeda amongst the limestone and granite. The names of his forgotten family were haunting him from every direction, but as he spotted Andromeda he approached her very, very cautiously. He’d been as quiet as he could be until he got there, before he quickly knelt besides her—having no idea what tomb she was grabbing as she’d covered the name—and put a hand on her shoulder to give it a comforting squeeze. ”Dromeda.” He said fervently, though quietly still. ”Come on. I have never lied to you. I have never abandoned you. I am so sorry, that I haven’t been around lately. I won’t make excuses for it, because there is no excuse. I should have been around for you more. But I’m here now, and I’m not leaving you.” It wasn’t as though Kevin had forgotten what she had done; a man was dead and a woman had suffered merlin-knew-what through Andromeda. Those facts however, were paling in comparison to the fact that his cousin had needed him and he hadn’t been there. And whether or not those things were true, if Andromeda had broken down like this without killing anybody or kidnapping anyone—he still would have been there for her. And he still would have wanted her to get help. At that moment, Kevin wasn’t so much an Auror as he was a concerned relative who thought of her as a sister. ”Look.” He continued, hand still squeezing her shoulder, grateful at least that her bottle had disappeared. ”I can’t make promises. You’re the only one that really can fix this, ‘Dromy. But not by running. Not by hiding. And I know you want to see your children again; how are you going to accomplish that on the run? I got your letter when you put it in the blanket. I’ll check up on them for you, I’ll make sure they know how amazing their mother is. And then, if you turn yourself in for treatment, Andromeda? They are going to be proud of you. They’re going to be proud of you for your commitment to getting well, by your facing your actions, by your strength in a battle against your own mind.” |
![]() for those days we've felt like a somehow; we keep marching on // there's so many wars we fight, there's so many thing's were not... but with what we have; I promise you that we're marching on {there's not a flag that I'd wave...} | |
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| Andy Grant | Jul 28 2010, 02:50 PM Post #3 |
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She was not afraid of the hand that held onto her shoulder; it was gentle, yet still firm in its attempt to reach her. When she let the headstone go, she was leaned sideways until she met a firm body. Even if she hadn't had Bassy next to her, she probably would have fell over and cried until she fell asleep there. Through her sobs, Andy was managing speech. “I’m sorry mummy, I didn’t mean to do everything I did. I’m a bad person. I disappointed you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” She cried in French over and over. Fifteen years of sadness and guilt finally arose from the deepest recesses of Andromeda’s being, in the form of uncontrollable and racking sobs. She was angry at herself for going against her mother’s requests when she was little; to never become those that are so close minded that it clouds their judgement; angry at the world for turning its back on her though they had every right; angry at Ralston for making her strive to acquire and fail to achieve his love; and angry at her mother for not being there when she needed a mother the most. And when she realized that she had not been to her mother’s grave in over five years, she cried harder, even angrier at herself. She felt defeated, her body language reflected that. Andromeda was generally poised as she was taught to be, back straight and head up, but now she was hunched over and a hand was also on the ground steadying herself. Because of the state she was in, mentally, emotionally and physicaly tired, she was listening to most of what her cousin had to say. It wasn't necessarily absorbing into her brain, but she was hearing it. She remembered the first time she'd come here after her Uncle Garreth died, it was when they were bringing her mother home, and not even then did she shed a tear. At the time it was just shock, she didn't know how to react, no one taught her how to grieve or let her know it was okay. Over the years, rather than letting anyone know how badly she was hurting, she just left it all inside. |
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| Kevin_D'Abugine | Jul 28 2010, 03:26 PM Post #4 |
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Kevin turned as she fell against him so that both arms engulfed her as she sobbed. His own heart was thudding painfully at being in that graveyard alone--let alone the fact that he was hurting for Andromeda's sake. He'd come here twice to bury the only male role models he'd ever had; his father when he was seven and his step father when he was fifteen. There weren't usually, he supposed, good memories in cemetaries but this one in particular seemed to highlight the worst in his life. Andy clearly took it as hard as he did, her hoarse and panicked voice choking out apologies in between sobs that wracked through her whole body as she leaned against him. Focus on Andromeda, he thought to himself, chewing both of his own lips in his anxiety and holding her tighter. He couldn't seem to get her to stop shaking. Her tearstruck words were like nails, beaten over and over again with a hammer, yet still stiff and sharp. They might as well have been drilling directly into his skull for the pain it was bringing him to see her like this. "Dromy, you are not a bad person, and your mami wouldn't think that. She loves you anyway, just like I do. You're human." He was saying it firmly though tears were in his own eyes. "You're human, and humans make mistakes, particularly when they're sick. That doesn't mean you can't come back from them." His own words were the nails now, he supposed, though he kept holding her for as much support as he could offer. "You're not well." His bitten lip disappeared beneath his tongue for a moment. "But illness can be cured. You--you can come back from this, I have complete faith. Please, Dromy, let me take you home with me, somewhere they can help you where I can't. Somewhere you can rest, somewhere you can be safe, somewhere you can get better." He wasn't taking her to Nuremgard anymore than he was taking her to Mungos. There were better facilities, better places with brighter colors and higher trained staff. Granted, Andy would have to plea to a judge her mental illness causing the break, her incapability to have in that instant, known right from wrong--but she had a few things on her side there. She had the fact that she released Juls. She had Lynx, as the Head Auror, who would no doubt argue for the best facility in the world--if there was anything Lynx loved more than Tyler it was justice, and there was no justice in sending Andy anywhere but a hospital, where she could get better. And she had him too. |
![]() for those days we've felt like a somehow; we keep marching on // there's so many wars we fight, there's so many thing's were not... but with what we have; I promise you that we're marching on {there's not a flag that I'd wave...} | |
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| Andy Grant | Jul 28 2010, 04:03 PM Post #5 |
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She sat in Bassy's arms listening to him talk to her while she sobbed. She couldn't understand why he kept saying she was sick. Yes, she had been drunk for what felt like weeks since Julianna confronted her and pointing out her flaws, but she knew her drinking was an illness in itself. Other than that, she just hadn't felt like herself as of late, getting terser with people, and then she snapped. The squib had actually done nothing to her, and sure she had no actual motive to kill Caleb either, but it just felt like something she had to do. She just kept listening, then he mentioned home. Even if the home he was talking about wasn't her home, it would be nice and that much she couldn't argue. "I am sorry Bassy, you shouldn't be taking care of me, you should be with the babies and Emma." She sniffed, managing to calm down after a few long drawn out breaths. She was by no means done grieving, or relieved of her burden of guilt, but she had no more energy to cry anymore. As she just sat there her voice became softer. "I still love him, Bassy" She spoke smbiguously of Ryou. Edited by Andy Grant, Jul 28 2010, 04:07 PM.
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| Kevin_D'Abugine | Jul 30 2010, 01:30 PM Post #6 |
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Dromeda's tears were quieting, his shirt the handkerchief he proffered. Exhaustion was rolling off her in waves; a contagious sort of illness he was catching. His arms engulfed her tighter. Support for her wasn't the only thing his embrace offered, thoug Kevin wasn't aware of how much he was needing her too. He needed Dromeda to get better, for her sake, for her kids sake, and for his sake. The only member of family from his D'Abugine side that he remotely cared about; Andy was all he had left of it. And she'd mentioned Emma, which brought a reality crash as his stomach twisted. His gaze arched to the heavens above them; he bloody swore the wind picked up with a chilling warning the moment she had, and fear etched it's way across his face and swept into his soul. Emma. The love of his life, the mother of his children, his wife and best friend--and the woman he was constantly failing. He searched the rolling clouds for an answer when Dromeda spoke again, and Kevin looked twisted for a moment before he murmured, "It's okay. I need to be here too; I need...all of my family." There was a pause and he continued softly, "I know. We'll fix this, Dromy. We will." And he prayed to merlin she was speaking about Ryou, as opposed to..well, as he hugged her tighter again and disapparated them both. |
![]() for those days we've felt like a somehow; we keep marching on // there's so many wars we fight, there's so many thing's were not... but with what we have; I promise you that we're marching on {there's not a flag that I'd wave...} | |
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