Kendra/Gellert/Albus Fun
It was a step. All she needed to do was take a single step to arrive in the den of sin her son had fashioned for himself. She had dressed herself in clothes appropriate for a funeral, her long black gown in the very prudish Victorian style still. Her black hair had been put up in a tight bun, her arms holding two brown packages as she closed her eyes and breathed in through her nose. She took that final step, staying silent as she peered around the front room and found herself very thankful that she hadn’t spotted Albus right away. Instead she slowly began to walk through the public rooms, wondering if she could simply drop the gifts and flee before she had another panic attack.
But as she turned to leave the home she found herself walking head long into a young blond boy. She knew that she was the last to arrive, and she knew almost no one in this world it seemed. “Please excuse me,” she said, not looking up to meet anyone’s eyes as she clutched the slim packages closer to her chest. Her golden cross sat around her throat, the most colorful thing about her that day. She wanted to leave, she wanted to run back to her own cottage with that terrible boy that was a rocker star. Even he would be better company then people celebrating her son's choice to become a sodomite.