dorcasrises
vixen.
dorcas bethany meadowes.
fear cuts deeper than swords.
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"very sad." dorcas agreed outright. "but not for any reason that's your damn fault. it's more situationally sad. you should go talk to him. I bet he wants to see you, and I doubt he'd recognize you so fast either." they had grown a lot since school started, and it had been even longer than that since marls had seen her dad. "we used to be a lot cuter, remember?"
where: somewhere overlooking the stables / haunted mansion
who: anyone
"i almost didn't recognize him." marlene pointed her chin in the direction of the man assisting the graphorn. "my own father and i almost didn't recognize him." she could feel tears threatening to pool in her eyes. "how sad is that?" she had been so young when he passed, not even at hogwarts, yet, but was that really an excuse?
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behind the canvas, gran proceeded to move her hand with slow and steady precision as she lead the brush through the graceful line of her granddaughter's jaw. 'mind your tongue, edith.' she warned. there had always been a standard of decorum by which alanis selwyn would never allow herself, nor anyone in her vicinity, to stoop beneath. gran did not like idle small talk nor chitter chatter. statements should have value. questions should have purpose. "I'm not who she remembers." dorcas explained.
"Do I have to ask your permission to take her out to play?" Edith asked the ghost, trying very hard to keep the quip from her voice. She knew that Dorcas's relationship with her grandma was complicated to say the least, but she'd always always wished that Dorcas could've lived with her and Ally instead. Maybe things would've been easier for her. Dor wouldn't be the same Dor that Edi loved so fiercely, but that didn't mean Edi would've loved her any less. "You're not painting her are you? Can't you do that from memory?"
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@xavecamour
“we’re in love during the war. does it make each moment more precious, or does it make each moment more difficult?”
— the war will turn us to monsters (i no longer recognize you) [j.m] (via mythpoetrynet)
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where; outside the ballroom
with; open
'be still.' the painter's voice cut through the air with precision. at the familiar command, dorcas gasped. she instinctively rolled her shoulders back and straightened the curve of her back. her usual unbothered and relaxed posture disappeared in place of this practiced perfection. 'lift your chin.' dorcas did. the woman continued her brush stroke without looking. not a hair on her head was out of place. it was all sleeked back and pinned on the nape of her neck. dorcas's own hand reached up to push back some of her own untamed lion's mane. 'I said stop moving, dorcas.' the ghost ordered. dorcas stilled and pulled her hand down. "yes gran."
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"you did not kill your mother." dorcas said in the tone of voice she reserved for unquestionable orders. it was molten steel. "whoever cast the curse, whoever gave the command; they, alone, are guilty." she inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. this was not the first time that sentiment needed reiteration. hell, it was practically a personal mantra at this point. dorcas was willing to say it again and again if that forced the truth of it into his thick skull. "honestly, I think she would be right pissed that you could insult her memory like that. I think in this world and the next, there is nothing that would make your mam happier than being sure of you, peter. that woman loved you."
"She wouldn't want to talk to me." Peter resigned himself to this fate, looking at his mam from afar, the bright smile on her face as charming and inviting as he remembered, the way he wanted to run across the room to hug her and run backwards out of it at the same time. He wondered if he would lose the mask if he shifted into a rat right now and disappeared into the walls. If it would come back when he shifted back. "I killed her, she wouldn't want anything to do with me anymore. I shouldn't burden her afterlife like I did her living one."
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dorcas braced her chest and shoulder so that peter could stand supported by them. her eyes widened as she saw what he did. the ghostly figure of peter's mother stood in what looked like a nursery speaking pleasantly with another. doe gasped. "I see her." she nodded. "do you- d'you want to go talk to her petey? I can stand right here or hold your hand."
"Mam..." His body sank, and it was a relief not to hit the ground, his weight heavy against Dorcas. He barely realized she was there, eyes unmoving from the form of the woman. Some part of him lurched forward, toward the figure, but he felt too heavy to move. "Mam is right there. Don't you see her? She's here. She's right here."
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dorcas didn't hesitate. despite the heels tied around her ankles, she shot down the corridor in a full sprint as it seemed peter was going to fall or faint if she didn't get there in time. "woah!" she clasped the forearm of his outstretch hand with her own and slapped the other bracingly against his back. "I'm here. hey, I'm here. I have you. what is it? how is what?" she asked, trying to turn her head to look where his stare was pinned.
A trembling hand lifted, rubbing across his face carelessly, wincing slightly at the sharp edges against his palms. His name reached his ears, but his reaction was only a slight shake of his head, eyes opening again to stare across at the woman he couldn't bring himself to call out to. "How--?" His other hand reached out, toward the direction his name came from, trembling as he sought out something firm to hold on to.
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"petey?" finally a voice that dorcas recognized reached her from just down the hallway. she started walking towards him. "oi, I said peter, is that you?"
open; masquerade
"Mam..." His voice trailed off in a dull whisper, horror etched across the pieces of his face that could be seen under the shattered glass of a mask. "Mommy?" His feet didn't move, eyes never leaving the visage of the woman across the room as his knuckles went white on the railing he tried to grip to keep his balance.
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sunburn.
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dorcas chuckled. "or the kind of laugh that comes with chaos." she stretched her arms up over her head as if soaking in every last ray on her skin and slowly dropped them back down to her sides. "I like knowing. why else ask a question if you don't want an answer, huh?"
"No comment." Sybill grins and shakes her head, "bouncy. Bright. The kind of laugh that cuts through chaos. Seriously, why do you ask?"
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dorcas shrugged. "it's avant garde. I am a dadaist." defined by reaction to the horrors of war, it was fitting. besides, they all knew dorcas did not actually sleep. there was no time for that little necessity. the bed was mostly a fizzling daydream and occasional crashpad, and the real bedrooms were needed by all her strays, lily included for a time.
"molly weasley likes to mother. I think she would be happy to help at any time for any reason. she has very strong opinions about family and homes." she had equally strong opinions about the war in relation to each. opinions that were often shared loudly with dorcas while reiterating that arthur had a curfew unless someone's life was on the line. "none of us are in this alone, lily. we're stuck with each other."
"Your bedroom is a hallway, darling." Lily pointed out. "That's a point against you, I'm sorry." The rest of the facts did fall in Dorcas's favor, including the reason for the bed in the hallway. But she felt it did need pointing out.
She nodded and chewed on her lip, conceding that point. Someone had needed to look after Dorcas. To this day someone needed to look after Dorcas. Now that she was pregnant, someone else would have to help her make sure Dorcas still had a blanket over her at night. Maybe Adan. "You think Molly would do that? She's so busy, I would hate to bother her.
"I'm glad that I have you, and James, and the others. I'm glad I don't have to do this all alone."
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"probably?" she snapped. "suck my ass; probably. you know good and well that I am definitely better, and more stylish, in every single way than potter. definitely." frankly, their tastes were wildly similar. "oh you will certainly be paying for his raising, and I imagine some karma sirius owes the universe. if he isn't a little shit, I wouldn't recognize him." dorcas smiled in her wolfish way as lily listed off a laundry list of concerns. "you woke up every time I snuck back into the dorm after an allnighter of studying, and I was a lot more purposefully quiet than an infant will be. even when I didn't make it back. how many times did you find me in the common and toss a blanket over me? then just ask molly how to hold a baby proper. it can't be that hard if she lets ted do it." the plan of action rolled easily off her tongue. dorcas was uniquely trained to intake a problem, quickly assess, and render a solution. scenario after scenario and strategy after strategy were meticulously posed, process, and memorized in an effort to create the little general. "so if you give them a complex, then at least they'll probably have a good sense of humor." she tossed an arm around lily's shoulder. "and I have never met someone with more capacity for outright love than you, lils. dick or demon or just another little deer, you're gonna love that kid maybe half as much as it'll love you. alright? don't sweat that stuff."
"Your taste in decor is probably better than James'." Lily said, fondness leaking into her voice. It wasn't entirely true. She'd probably like most anything James picked out, his taste wasn't nearly that awful. "It will probably cosmic retribution for all the nonsense he pulled as a child, I bet. God, what am I not nervous about? What if I don't wake up when they cry, or what if I hold them wrong or give them some sort of complex, or end up raising a horrible little demon child? What if they don't like me? What if I don't like them? What if my kid is a dick?"
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"which woman?" dorcas asked, ignoring sybill's follow up question entirely. "describe it."
"A woman's voice- why do you ask?"
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"I can afford it." she grinned, which was true. it had been a bit of a surprise, actually. gran had always been complicated. she said that dorcas would not inherit anything for being born by a muggle, as if that was a choice. she also said that dorcas still had her blood and shouldn't cower to anyone. it took too long for her to realize that her grandmother tried to love her as best she could with the limitations of a society it was downright dangerous to reject. the woman wanted dorcas to at least be strong and proud. there were days she hated her gran, but not always. the woman had left her everything. she raised her, poorly as it may have been, but at least she stuck around and tried. there was nothing short of relief to know that lily's kid would never have to wonder why their parents weren't there. why they didn't love them. "I just can't imagine marauder genetics making anything but a shit eating grin sort of little boy, but I guess it wouldn't matter either way. what are you most nervous about?"
dorcasrises:
“it must be all the money.” dorcas teased. brat, she may be, but spoiled brat was another question. there was a chance with a slightly different mother, she would be no different from any other pureblood cutthroat. being nothing but a halfblood, however, she was just angry and flush with gold no one wanted her to inherit. “and that’s why you’re going to make a very good mum.” she snorted. “nah, it’s a boy. I’m calling it.”
--
“I’m making you buy me a crib.” Lily joked back. James had plenty of money, they didn’t need any help with baby things. It was very odd in all honesty. Lily had grown up comfortably sure but not the way James had. “That’s what my mum says, too. But Dad says it’s a girl. I can’t decide if I have a preference either way.”
--
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in all fairness, dorcas was aware that this was probably the worst way to handle things. at least give her a modicum of credit for that level of self-awareness since it was basically being the star student of therapy, a practice which she notoriously has long refused to go to. however, being aware in no way made her stop nor even hesitate when adan had the good sense to question what was going on; there was no amount of consciousness that could possibly withstand the heat of dorcas's burning impulsive desires. he was too close, and she worked the best magic when it seemed like everything was going to hell around her. (which was most of the time.) dorcas turned her chin up and met his mouth halfway with forceful precision as if she had been keenly waiting for him to open the door. when it was obvious that nothing immediately exploded, both hands strained against his hold as she pushed further forward.
though the challenge in her eyes was unmistakable, there was something in the tone of her voice that he couldn't place his finger on; something undecipherable, that somehow still made his already shaken heart twitch nervously. for the first time in years, adan felt the weight of being truly sober, to crave something so intensely and yet, never allow himself to cave into it. his sponsor would have been proud, had the thing he'd been craving been alcohol. in this case, it wasn't. hadn't been for a long time. and though his willpower had always been something of a personal triumph; something to take pride in, evidently it had it's drawbacks. it caused a push and pull reaction within him. "dorcas." perhaps if he had never finished his shift early on new years and decided to visit acid, a nightclub he detested for the most part, then the almost kiss wouldn't have happened and they could have continued on, pretending that there was nothing between them. no spark, no longing... no reason for his hands to be sliding from her wrists and interlocking their fingers, still pressing her against the wall. "if I- if we-" he huffed in irritation at his sudden inability to string a sentence together. fuck. meeting her eyes, he paused for a second longer before giving in, dipping his head and finally brushing his lips against hers; gentle, questioning, giving her time to answer one way or another without presuming anything, and all the while wondering if she could feel how his body shook with repressed need against her own.
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hauntedscreams
“you’re right, i’m not your mom. i am just someone who cares about you a lot and wants you to be safe.”
-
“and that is your mistake, king. don’t go and put it on me.”
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where; outside
with; open
"what does sunshine sound like to you?"
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