Post by astrid alexandria henio on Feb 2, 2023 23:23:41 GMT -5
“
Astrid hadn't been able to live without knowing any longer.
Even if her parents and brother were dead, she needed to know. Astrid hadn't spoken to her mother or father since the summer, and Tavas even before that, but it still rested heavy on her heart that she didn't know if they were okay. She needed to know, even if it wasn't the answer she was hoping for.
It had been early in the morning, the sun not yet risen, when Astrid left the safehouse she, Josie, and some of the other Weasleys and Potters had been placed in after the world ended. Josie had still been in bed, barely stirring when Astrid rose, just long enough for Astrid to promise she would be home soon. Astrid walked to the edge of the property and closed her eyes, focusing intently before disapparating.
When Astrid opened them again, she immediately wished she had never left the warm comfort of bed with Josie.
The Henio manor had once been an imposing structure, towering over the winding street of Cherry Bastille. For seventeen years Astrid had called the manor home, walked the halls and frequented the gardens. It hadn't always been a happy place, had never been a warm and welcoming home, but it had been her home nonetheless. Now there was nothing left but rubble.
Broken glass littered ground as Astrid approached what had once been the front door, little more than the marble columns remaining upright. Furniture was overturned and shattered. The portraits and landscapes that had once hung in the grand hallways were ripped and shattered, the portraits' occupants long gone. It was still, deadly silent, not even dust daring to move. Whatever had happened here, it had been catastrophic.
Astrid picked her way slowly through the rubble. She knew the general layout of the first floor, could find her way through the rooms with ease now that the walls were mostly gone. What had once been the formal dining table was now little more than splintered wood underneath a pile of stone and plaster. The sitting room furniture, the plush couches and armchairs her mother had cared so deeply for, were not even identifiable among the debris.
She stayed for hours, picking through the piles of rubble and ruin. She wasn't sure what she was looking for. If her parents had been in the house when it fell, there was practically no hope that they had gotten out alive. Finding their bodies among the wreckage would have been too much for Astrid, but she looked anyway, using magic to move the larger pieces of rubble and digging through what she could with her bare hands.
The sun was just beginning to set when she found them, or at least as much of them as she could bare to. The hand that stuck out from under the wreckage was perfectly-manicured, despite it all. Astrid would have known that had from anywhere. Her mother had been a tough woman to love, a difficult person to please, but she had still been Astrid's mother.
It was the confirmation Astrid had been hoping she wouldn't get. At least if she hadn't known, some part of her could believe that her parents had been away for the holiday, maybe to Paris to see Tavas and escaped the tragedy. But not knowing had been eating away at her. She needed to know, but now that she did, she wished she hadn't ever come here.
Darkness had fully cloaked the quiet streets of Cherry Bastille when Astrid at last left. She apparated back to the safehouse, not succeeding in avoiding exchanging pleasantries with the Order members cleaning up from dinner in the kitchen. She did her best to make the conversation short, wanting nothing more than to disappear into her and Josie's room.
The dark and quiet of the room Astrid shared with Josie was a welcome reprieve when Astrid at last made it there. She closed the door behind her, leaning against it and letting out a long, deep breath. Her hands shook at her side, and she screwed her eyes shut tightly for a long moment. The image of the manor, her mother's hand just visible under the wreckage, it all played on repeat in her mind, like a highlight reel of the tragedy.
"Astrid?"
Josie's voice drew Astrid back to earth. She blinked, once, twice, three times, trying to shake away the image of her childhood home in ruins.
"They're gone," Astrid whispered at last. Tears hadn't fallen yet, not even when she'd first found them, but she could feel them creeping closer to the surface with every passing moment. "The house, everything, it's all... it's all gone."
Even if her parents and brother were dead, she needed to know. Astrid hadn't spoken to her mother or father since the summer, and Tavas even before that, but it still rested heavy on her heart that she didn't know if they were okay. She needed to know, even if it wasn't the answer she was hoping for.
It had been early in the morning, the sun not yet risen, when Astrid left the safehouse she, Josie, and some of the other Weasleys and Potters had been placed in after the world ended. Josie had still been in bed, barely stirring when Astrid rose, just long enough for Astrid to promise she would be home soon. Astrid walked to the edge of the property and closed her eyes, focusing intently before disapparating.
When Astrid opened them again, she immediately wished she had never left the warm comfort of bed with Josie.
The Henio manor had once been an imposing structure, towering over the winding street of Cherry Bastille. For seventeen years Astrid had called the manor home, walked the halls and frequented the gardens. It hadn't always been a happy place, had never been a warm and welcoming home, but it had been her home nonetheless. Now there was nothing left but rubble.
Broken glass littered ground as Astrid approached what had once been the front door, little more than the marble columns remaining upright. Furniture was overturned and shattered. The portraits and landscapes that had once hung in the grand hallways were ripped and shattered, the portraits' occupants long gone. It was still, deadly silent, not even dust daring to move. Whatever had happened here, it had been catastrophic.
Astrid picked her way slowly through the rubble. She knew the general layout of the first floor, could find her way through the rooms with ease now that the walls were mostly gone. What had once been the formal dining table was now little more than splintered wood underneath a pile of stone and plaster. The sitting room furniture, the plush couches and armchairs her mother had cared so deeply for, were not even identifiable among the debris.
She stayed for hours, picking through the piles of rubble and ruin. She wasn't sure what she was looking for. If her parents had been in the house when it fell, there was practically no hope that they had gotten out alive. Finding their bodies among the wreckage would have been too much for Astrid, but she looked anyway, using magic to move the larger pieces of rubble and digging through what she could with her bare hands.
The sun was just beginning to set when she found them, or at least as much of them as she could bare to. The hand that stuck out from under the wreckage was perfectly-manicured, despite it all. Astrid would have known that had from anywhere. Her mother had been a tough woman to love, a difficult person to please, but she had still been Astrid's mother.
It was the confirmation Astrid had been hoping she wouldn't get. At least if she hadn't known, some part of her could believe that her parents had been away for the holiday, maybe to Paris to see Tavas and escaped the tragedy. But not knowing had been eating away at her. She needed to know, but now that she did, she wished she hadn't ever come here.
Darkness had fully cloaked the quiet streets of Cherry Bastille when Astrid at last left. She apparated back to the safehouse, not succeeding in avoiding exchanging pleasantries with the Order members cleaning up from dinner in the kitchen. She did her best to make the conversation short, wanting nothing more than to disappear into her and Josie's room.
The dark and quiet of the room Astrid shared with Josie was a welcome reprieve when Astrid at last made it there. She closed the door behind her, leaning against it and letting out a long, deep breath. Her hands shook at her side, and she screwed her eyes shut tightly for a long moment. The image of the manor, her mother's hand just visible under the wreckage, it all played on repeat in her mind, like a highlight reel of the tragedy.
"Astrid?"
Josie's voice drew Astrid back to earth. She blinked, once, twice, three times, trying to shake away the image of her childhood home in ruins.
"They're gone," Astrid whispered at last. Tears hadn't fallen yet, not even when she'd first found them, but she could feel them creeping closer to the surface with every passing moment. "The house, everything, it's all... it's all gone."
Astrid Alexandria
Henio★
Henio★
dandy ♫
