molly_wobbler (molly_wobbler) wrote in breaking_point, @ 2010-02-21 17:07:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | *complete, 2025 02, dead character: molly weasly |
RP: Molly
Who: Molly Weasley, mention of Bill
Where: The cliffs
When: Early morning, 21 February
Rating/Warnings: N/A
Summary: Molly finds that a moment alone is what she needed after all.
Shell cottage was quiet. Not the hushed quiet of the day before, when the house was full of family, mourning in whispers, but the quiet of family gone home. Molly woke and dressed in borrowed clothing, working it with nudges of magic to fit, for her figure was much different than Fleur's. She pulled on altered shoes. Gathered a blanket into a Transfigured cloak.
She managed toast and tea under Bill's watchful eye, knowing that he'd be watching her. Knowing that he had been, from the moment he'd come home to her, here, stunned and in shock and filthy in her nightclothes. Her boy had always been observant, and as such, hadn't taken after her. He'd been his father's boy, quiet and watchful, where she was pushy and talkative...
His father's boy.
She'd headed out for the cliffs, wrapped warmly in her cloak, wind in her hair. It was chilly on the cliffs, colder down by the sea, and yet she needed to be here. Alone with her thoughts. Her memories. They were all she had left now, for all she'd had of Arthur and her family had perished with her home. There wasn't anything left of the house, not furniture or books or jewelry, not that she'd had much of that. Not photos of the children, or the grandchildren, or the tiny gifts they'd made her as tots.
Not her wedding dress. Not her veil. Not the clock that had warned her of family strife for what felt like a hundred years. It had been a remarkable clock, tiny hands sprouting with every family addition, and had began to look like a wheel with as many spokes.
What would warn her now?
Molly pushed off her shoes as she reached the edge of the dry sand, leaving them at the tide line and walking into the firmer, damp stretch of beach. The wind whipped her cloak, still she walked.
"I love you," she whispered into the wind. "You'll always be in my heart. In my soul. You're part of me, half of my children. I see you in every grandchild... My whole world, Arthur Weasley..." She clasped her hands, holding the cloak together, one finger tracing the gold band around another.
"What am I supposed to do without you?"
She hadn't a clue. Molly had never lived alone, going from her mother's home to her husband's, binding herself to him without hesitation. She was his. Had been his.
Had been.
She looked out over the waves for a very long time, then turned and started walking again.