lavender is sure that living is worse (lavishly) wrote in pandorarpg, @ 2012-01-30 00:06:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | !status: complete, ^date: november 14 2003, character: lavender brown |
Characters: Lavender Brown with Aunt Merete and Uncle Ken
Setting: Friday morning, a little before 6 am, Rising Loaf kitchen
Rating: Worksafe
Summary: The newspaper arrives at Rising Loaf prompting Lavender to have an anxiety attack.
The morning was a bit gummy, figuring how how to get to Diagon from Eastbourne was not something she liked to do or was particularly accustomed to. Today she brought Bailey with her, not wanted him to feel left out after Baby Girl was afforded the trip yesterday. At least there was some small comfort in the fact that the not-nightmare last night had been diluted by Michael's potion, she wasn't sure if she would have been able to handle the world had it been full force. It was welcome to have a bit of the buffer there, to not have to feel it when she already felt too much. Once she was at the Rising Loaf it was easy to fall into the morning routine with the before dawn crew so the store was ready for the breakfast rush. For the first hour or so there wasn't ever much talking, just the three of them settling into the routine and getting things lined up. The real chatter usually happened when Merete arrived to start opening up the front and the Daily Prophet arrived. It wasn't really unusual to feel her stomach lurch when that arrived. There really hadn't been much good happening in the world the past couple of weeks. It was all one big black hole of death and suffering. Still she didn't think it was going to be any worse than before. Oh but she was wrong. So very, very wrong. Three words splashed right across the front page and she just knew, even without seeing the five that followed. All that tape and glue that was barely holding her together just came undone. She couldn't breathe. Her whole body was shaking, or at least she thought it was her body shaking because the spatular in hand wasn't moving like it should, and she was sure that what little she had for breakfast was going to come back up. It was just unsafe. Horrible, horrible, and horrible. She needed to get out of here, find some place better, some place far away, because Fenrir Greyback had escaped. He was out and probably killing people, probably going to kill her, like in her actual nightmares, and she just couldn't breathe. It was all just so much worse. "Lavender? Love, are you okay?" said Merete. The older woman was calm, carefully approaching her niece as to offer some sort of comfort. "Don't," the word came out as a gasp, forming words near impossible with her shallow breathing. "I-- I--" She didn't know what she needed and if she didn't, she certainly wouldn't know how to say it. Right now she was the world's worst Gryffindor - not that she hadn't already known that after the other day. But, oh God-- Lavender sunk to the floor, back up against the wall in the far corner of the kitchen, pulling tightly into herself as she lost it. She was losing everything these days. "I just want to go home." She managed to say finally, tears making her vision splotchy. "Please? Can I just go home?" Whatever her aunt was saying she wasn't really hearing it. Her mouth was just moving in shapes with strange sounds not quite attached to them. At some point she lost track of time or maybe her mum had been on her way because she saw the news or just knew that Lavender would need her. Whatever the reason it didn't matter. Her mother was here, her strong, beautiful mother who could try to make it a little better. Only it was more sounds again and she instinctively leaped into her mothers arms trying not to think that it didn't quite feel right because her skin didn't seem to fit anymore, it was all just itchy, odd, and she needed to be somewhere else - far, far away. "Alright, there, lovely," said Sylvia wrapping her arms firmly around her daughter. "Let's get you home." And within the next moment the world lurched, shifting again. It didn't make it better, but at least she was home. |