Fleur Delacour (la_fleurdelis) wrote in obliviaterpg, @ 2019-07-21 21:23:00 |
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Entry tags: | bill weasley, fleur weasley |
WHO: Bill and Fleur
WHAT: Bill has been keeping a secret
WHEN: Friday, 7/20; well after midnight
WHERE: Shell cottage
RATING|STATUS: Probably low |Incomplete
It was late. The kind of late where the corners of the eyes stung from sleepiness and muscles ached dully, begging for rest. Yet Fleur did not rest; she sat upright, wrapped in an impossibly soft woven smokey silver blanket while the tea on the corner table steamed cheerfully with lazy curly cues cascading over the delicate rim of the cup. Her blue eyes once more flickered to the clock on the wall bearing the names of the Weasley family and their current status: Bill's still lingered on 'traveling'. Of course it did; he had been 'traveling' since leaving for work this morning. With a huff of impatience she reached for the book perched next to her tea with a slight tremble in her hands and picked it up with annoyance, turning it over a few times before turning the pages with unseeing eyes.
Where was Bill?
Despite herself she glanced up at the clock once more and mentally cursed; this behavior wasn't helping. If anything it whipped her already agitated state into a further frenzy where anxiety gnawed at the edges of her thoughts and caused her hands to shake far more than usual. Redirecting her thoughts she glanced down to the delicate wedding band on her finger and toyed with it, twisting it this way and that while heaving a deep sigh. Bill was hiding something and it couldn't have been more obvious. Sure, they hadn't been married long but Fleur simply knew and she certainly knew her husband. He seemed distracted these days, and getting home even later than usual. It couldn't have been another woman - no, this was something different.
A slight movement brought Fleur out of her thoughts and back to the clock where the silver hand slid effortlessly from 'traveling' to 'home'. Relief spread through her like fire, then quickly turned to anger. The blanket drooped down her shoulders as she shifted, sitting forward ever so slightly and fixing the fireplace with a piercing stare.