Who: Dora and OPEN When: Sunday January 22, morning sometime after sorting the mail and finding THIS Where: Running a route somewhere from the quatre and back What: Dora is upset Warnings: Language, TBD
She swore she'd had to get up to pee far too many times last night. That's what she got for drinking so much, she supposed, as well as hanging her head over the toilet as silently as possible -- fuck trying to do a wandless silencing charm at that point -- in the wee hours because of it all. She was getting intolerant in her old age, she thought miserably.
Old age. Ha! She should be young still.
But she'd finally felt more the thing, rinsed off in the shower because ugh, gross, and took a hang over potion just to head off the morning headache before curling back up in bed with Ewan for a bit more rest. She surprisingly slept a bit better than expected, though she still felt washed out come morning even if they'd slept in a bit to make up for the late night.
Of course she'd still woken up before him, and she'd kissed his cheek and told him to sleep a bit longer, she'd go fetch pastries for breakfast during her run. She didn't run every single morning but more often than not she did. It managed her anxiety as much as the potions did.
Speaking of. She went and dosed herself quietly, putting the little case back in its little space, and then changed into her running clothes. She noticed the untended pile of mail while grabbing her water, and she sorted through it with mildly curiosity really quick. Junk, junk, dueling dueling periodical.... something for them, via Montgomery estates, in handwriting she found hurt her heart to see. Everything got dropped in a mess as she opened it with faintly trembling fingers.
The Panda bears made her want to cry. So did the message.
When had her sister come back into town? She had to be, if she was living at the estate. Damn it. Damn it damn it damn it.
She dropped it from nerveless fingers, forgot her water entirely, disregarded the bit of mess she'd made, and headed to the door. She was running before she'd even completely left the place, short legs finding a familiar stride quickly once outside. She focused on that. Stride stride stride. Left right left right left right.
And she'd keep doign it until she felt like she could think about what she'd just seen again without wanting to panic. Without wondering what Persy was thinking, why she'd reached out now. She was reacting badly, and a small part of her knew it, but that part of her was letting her just cope with it until she could do it for real.