nora m. peakes (melindicate) wrote in valesco,
@ 2013-10-27 23:23:00

Entry tags:

adian rosenberg, arista sykes, caradoc dearborn, charles spinnet, charlotte sweeting, delilah spinnet, derek dobbs, galvin gudgeon, giada dorny, glenda prewett, graeme dorny, greta catchlove, group, howell williams, jake bexley, kalista borgin, larkin whitby, louis bonaccord, matthew summerby, nona pepper, nora peakes, octavius pepper, oliver comstock, penelope fawcett, rose knightley, rupert brookstanton, saoirse mullet, seth wadcock

Halloween Haunted Castle Event! Open to Everyone!
While she wasn't particularly keen on parties, she was set on saving wildlife. Everyone else seemed to rake in the galleons by throwing large events, no matter the scandals that erupted from them, so why couldn't they? Nora had conservatory's committee for quite some time now, and being the youngest by a good forty years, had devised this plan as a new and fresh way of funding. It helped greatly that she had friends that had access to some of the best party planners (or that she could twist Charlie Spinnet's ear until he helped her out), and things seemed to have turned out well. So far.

For the brave at heart, there was a grand maze that made its way throughout the haunted castle. Guests would be offered clues to get themselves to the ballroom, and if they were truly lost (as Nora was sure was to occur), for just a small donation (it's for charity), any money dropped into a clue box would light up a blue path down the correct route to lead the way out. With all the Gryffindors that Nora had put on the guest list, she was sure they were going to triple their goal.

There was a simpler route than the maze, which was simply to walk through the double doors to the dance floor. Nora was currently wavering between the two, having run out of pamphlets to give out at the front entrance therefore giving her no excuse to join the festivities. She felt rather exposed, as Delilah had stolen her cloak, and when someone tapped her shoulder she jumped nearly a foot in the air.

"Bloody hell!" she let out, spinning around. "You scared the life out of me!"

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NONA

rabbit
2013-11-07 04:07 am UTC (link)

After a couple days of laying on Jake's brother's floor, Ollie came to terms with the fact that he had to return home or else his sister would aggressively plaster his face all over the Daily Prophet until a burly hit-wizard banged down the door and dragged him back. So, it was with burdened feet and a heavy head that he returned home... and an hour later found himself walking out the door dressed in full costume regalia.

Melania had been home, of course, and immediately upon his return, burst into tears, emotionally declaring she was so relieved he had finally come back home, and that they could spend the whole night talking about what had happened, because wouldn't that help him feel better? And not to worry, they were going to take care of everything! She was going to get more information from Max, Bruno would definitely know what to do and-- he had let Melania go, only quietly stating after she had finished that he was fine, and actually wished to spend halloween out with a few friends.

Which was a complete lie, but at that point, his desire to escape the touching concern of his sister, even if just for one more night, was paramount. So here he was, feeling muddled at a party he had no intention in ever attending because---

Ollie choked on the fag he was smoking, having breathed in too quickly and too deeply at the sight of Nona Pepper just a ways off with her housemates. And select others. Arista? He stood up abruptly, knocking over something beside him. What, he couldn't tell, didn't think to look because his gaze could not be torn from her. An unsettled, and complex, mix of emotions left uncapped easily brewed over within him as he thought... how could she not have told him? Was that the reason why she had disappeared? It pained him to think... angered him to think... he could have, after all these years...

Ollie had quickly realized that that had been why she rebuked his advances now, refused to see him, or speak with him at random. Because... a tender ache in his chest throbbed, and without thinking much else of it, and hurried toward her. He didn't think about discretion, wasn't concerned with curious eyes, could care less what the others may think; his gaze, his focus, was only on her.

Appearing all of the sudden before her, he spoke with surprising coherence. And, perhaps, with a bit of poignance, too. Turning his back to their peers, he watched her sadly. "I know about Ethiopia."

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raindrops
2013-11-11 05:32 am UTC (link)

Nona loved Halloween, but she could not find it in her this year to celebrate much. She felt off-kilter this year, and was not quite sure why. Restlessness was a very good explanation, but she could not chalk her dissatisfaction wholly up to that, nor to her growing boredness with her Healing post at St Mungo's.

She had greatly enjoyed her house getting ready for Halloween, which included being horrible to Howell and now Ronan by proxy. She spent much more time dolling up Penelope, her personal property and plaything, than she had herself, but Nona had had her costume finished for months. A dab of colour on her lips, the sheathing of an old sword lying about the house…

The maze was painfully easy, but she had much more fun watching her friends bicker over the direction they were going in, when she bothered to pay them attention. Mostly, she was content to drift to the side, tuning them in and out as it pleased her.

When Oliver Comstock appeared before her, suddenly, Nona realised she had quite lost track of her friends, and didn't dare lift her gaze to search them out. She felt her pulse increase dramatically, skipping a beat, even, but attempted to tamp it down. No force was needed, as his words, brusque and entirely lacking in pleasantries, were like a bucket of ice water being thrown on her.

Nona struggled for words, even as her emotions pelted her in rapid succession. Confusion—what could he possibly know?, followed shortly by fear, and—anger, white hot and bitter, at whoever had told him—at Max, her blood and kin, who had betrayed her in the worst possible way.

She could not afford to let her usual obsession and fascination with Oliver Comstock get the better of her, not when he was prying about things that did not—could not concern him. "Know what, exactly?" she asked, striving to be cold, even though she could feel her heart pounding in her ears and her eyes prickling, which meant, most horrifyingly, tears were about to begin any moment.

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rabbit
2013-11-18 02:59 am UTC (link)

His brow contorted, and Ollie fell silent so that he could properly take Nona in. She looked beautiful, she was always beautiful, even despite of the distinct filling of anger and despair in her eyes. Her smooth, clear skin appeared pulled across the frame of her face, and in a fleeting moment he felt compelled to cup her cheeks in his hands and hold her until the intensity of her being warmed him. But, he would not, could not, for his limbs felt too dejected to do much else than limber through their basic familiar motions.

How could this one witch have transfixed him so? For so long, it had been such a long time, during which they had been together for so little that it almost felt... his thoughts strayed for a moment, pondering what exactly being with Nona Pepper meant. It was a loose term, one he didn't think could be applied generally, but at the time, in the moment, had felt... right. It had felt that way, he had felt with her during their last year at school, even if there hadn't been much to be seen of them by others.

He wished, more than anything now, that she had told him. She should have told him, and he would have gone with her for it. Back then, he would have gone to start a new life with her. It would have been easy, there had been nothing tying him down to Great Britain then, and it would have been... he would have... Ollie closed his eyes tightly, the first time in many moments, he broke his gaze from Nona. Thinking of the potential, a life that could never be was moot. All there was was now, the ingredients for only one potion of the present before him. They were grim, messy, and riddled with emotion, but what they had nonetheless.

Ollie couldn't discern much, right now, in the moment, but he did know absolutely one thing. He was so in love with this girl before him, so incredibly so that he couldn't even find it within himself to be angry with her. Where anger should have been, misery, sadness, and an unknown longing filled to the brim. His thoughts grappled with if he even had the right to feel anything at all, as it was her body and something that he had done changed it, but in the end, this struggle always led back to one thought:

She should have told him.

How could she have...?

"You were pregnant." His voice was gutted, low, and mixed with muted confusion. "You went to Ethiopia to hide---" Ollie hesitated, finding his final two words difficult to push out. He could not say them, it was too difficult. Instead, his eyes dropped to the ground, forgetting everything around except for her, and their feet. "--- and you left me behind."

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raindrops
2013-11-22 01:12 am UTC (link)

Hearing those words said out loud, as they had never before been uttered in her life, was like a knife stabbing through her heart. The trail the blade left burned as if on fire, and Nona lifted a hand to her breast in the hope that she might actually be able to soothe the imaginary but horribly tangible wound.

Those six months had been the loneliest of her life. The realisation she was pregnant, the last minute decision to accept studying Healing abroad… Alone in a foreign country with a massive workload, a steep learning curve, all while struggling to study for her H.O.R.S.E. exams. Oliver's words nearly made her laugh, but all that came out was an ugly sounding sob she choked back.

"Left you behind?" she wanted to know.

Anyone who remembered the name Comstock had the ability to research the famed and tragic family. Brilliant, rich, and dead. Nona had been young when Oliver's family had been murdered, but she remembered the story that shot across the school like wildfire. When she was older, when Oliver had become inexplicably entwined in her life, she was old enough to read back and remember. And feel. Nona's family defined her, she could only imagine what it was like to lose it—any of it. Did Oliver feel now, what she had done, the actions she had felt it necessary to take, and would take again, had robbed him of family once more?

The guilt and hurt and anger swelled in her again, threatening to break her down.

What Nona did next, she could not define as cruelty or kindness, if it was one or the other, or both. And, whichever it was, did not dwell upon if she had Oliver or herself in mind when the words came out of her mouth.

"Is that so?" She raised her eyebrows. "My mistake."

Oliver towered over her, but she raised herself to her highest height and felt her curtain of hair slide away from her face. Nona took a deep breath to steady herself, and perhaps to delay the inevitable about to spill from her lips just an infinitesimal second longer. "I had no idea you had any interest in raising another man's child."

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rabbit
2013-11-24 07:37 pm UTC (link)

Had she turned harsh over the years--- or, perhaps she'd always been that way just there had been no reason for him to see it?

He frowned further at the thought, and decided no, he wouldn't like to think that was the case. He liked to think that the enwrapping, challenging, soft and divine witch he met six years ago was her true, inner form, and things, life, had gotten the best of her better nature (an effect he knew and had experienced all too well). So in spite of truly thinking this, feeling it deep within him, he couldn't stop her words from searing through him like a rabid burn.

She wanted him to think...

His brow knitted in painful confusion. He supposed, by the precarious nature of their relationship, that it was possible... but it had never felt... he would have sworn, from the recesses of his gut...

A trickle of doubt formed within him and it, like acid, easily exposed a fresh layer of agony within him. Was he to believe her over the word of Melania's friend? Neither offered a preferable reality, in fact, Ollie found that both simply blurred into a cauldron of uncertainty, betrayal, longing, and... anguish. Why was something he felt so sure about, her, feeling so unobtainable? Finding it too difficult to discern what he was thinking or feeling, Ollie hung desperately to the facts.

"But it happened," he murmured finally, feeling no weight lifted from his shoulders. "You were."

A bout of silence grew between them as Ollie grappled with what to do, say next. He wanted Nona to be candor with him, so incredibly much that it hurt. Surely, this was a front? Her choked back words, her strict stature and callous tone, it left him feeling unable to read her. He just wanted, needed to know---

A kick of something, a dying reflex or a reborn instilling, filled him, and unable to ignore it, his limbs sprung to life. Ollie skirted closer to Nona, bending his back to meet her eyes, and quickly gripped both her arms above her elbows. His thoughts momentarily collected at how hot his clutch on her felt.

"This is the truth?" He held her tightly now, fearful she would dematerialize before his eyes. "Are you telling me the truth?" Oliver looked at her hungrily, eyes darting across her face to scan for signs of sincerity. All he wanted---

"I have so much of you in my heart, Nona," he began wearily, though he couldn't quite say whether the hint of warning in his voice was for himself, or her. His shoulders sunk so his head hung low. "And it's painful, because you have been the only one there for such a long time---"

How could he even begin to explain how crazed his frequent thoughts about her felt? He couldn't, not with how it felt like her attention was slipping through his fingers. Giving up on his effort to scrutinize her face, Ollie closed his eyes and dropped his head further so that it lingered dangerous close to resting on her shoulder.

"I looked for you," he muttered miserably. "I spent months trying to find you---"

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raindrops
2013-12-02 04:33 am UTC (link)

The tears that had been threatening to spill from her eyes did so profusely from the moment he grabbed her, and Nona resisted against his unrelenting grip through her watery vision.

"I never asked you to!" Though delivered in anguish, her words were meant neither coldly nor cruelly. It was a simple statement of truth, and after uttering it, she ceased her vain struggles. He had looked for her? "I didn't ask—for any of this—for you."

He'd spent months trying to… Such a notion caused her heart, a heart she suspected was as achingly full of him as he claimed his was of her, to stutter in its beat. Nona supposed she had not imagined much of what came to Oliver Comstock in life after her. She believed, up until the moment he re-entered her life, that he must have forgotten about her, that the fever of their affair was imagined, or at least highly exaggerated in her memories. That the promises and supposed truths between them, ones which never needed spoken words, were falsehoods she could not expect a boy of 18 to be held to. Promises she as a girl of 18 could not be held to, either.

Nona had not, could not have, looked back when she ran. She mentioned to Oliver, in the few words they had exchanged, that Britain could never possibly hold all of her. There was too much to learn, too much to see, much too much to do, for her to ever remain in one place for long. Talent had led her to Healing, but wanderlust, later warped and malformed into fear and desperation, had sent her spinning across the globe. She had done great work. She would do great work, and as much as her heart broke for herself, for Oliver, and yes, their child, she could not allow that emotion to undermine all she had done in its wake.

"Does it matter if it's the truth?" she whispered suddenly, defeat radiating from every inch of her. Defeat that he had found her out, defeat that it seemed he'd left a blot on her life that could never be removed, defeat that she may very well love him—defeat that in spite of that, love would never be able to transpire between them—she didn't know. It hurt too much to dwell upon. "Does it matter now what truly happened, or what our feelings are for one another? Does it change anything?"

In spite of herself, her hand crept up to the back of his neck, to ghost along his nape and, with the slightest of pressure, press him to the crook of her neck. "Wouldn't it be so much simpler to just accept what I say?" Nona asked him, but the questioned was posed to them both. "Wouldn't it be so much easier to never think about what might have been?"

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rabbit
2013-12-04 06:03 am UTC (link)

He took solace in her scent, relief in her warmth, and later, Ollie would admit that he became lost in Nona's embrace. His tense shoulders finally relaxed, his head stopped spinning, and his heart, which had be pounding so profusely and so painfully, finally ebbed to a soft patter. Resting his face in her neck, he breathed in. How he had longed to touch her silken skin, to press his face against her and ease this ache within him.

And he wished, so very desperately, that this, this feeling, could be frozen forever. Before her words set in, before his despairing anger roused what logic was left in him, before she returned to her relentless rebuking of him.. how idyllic, it would be, for everything to be as simple as how her touch felt. But it could never be that easy, could it? It would never be... Nona Pepper would never be simple.

So, it was with an agonizing slowness that he raised his head, and opened his eyes. His grip on her arms loosened to clutch the sides of her face tightly. Her tears, while they displeased him, oddly felt comforting. Perhaps because they signified something within her was torn as much as he felt? Ollie was not sure, but they made him feel less insane.

He brushed what tears he could away with his thumbs as a sad, defeated smile played on his lips.

"You talk like there will never be a future between us." Oliver's head tilted slightly to the side, very much bleak. "Do you hate me that much?" He didn't know. He wished it did, he wished he could read her mind, he wished she would share every little thought she had with him, but then, he supposed, this, this thing that had grown and taken a tight hold between them, wouldn't be what it was today if that were the case.

He had dated, yes, before and after Nona, but Ollie would rather pathetically admit that he had never found himself as challenged, enticed, or enthralled with any other woman as the witch in his grasp. Italian girls with italian names and their easily understandable ways; what was love if nothing felt important enough to bother with?

"You are the only one, the only one that has ever---" he began to mutter, voicing his thoughts aloud. But quickly, as if breaking from a trance, he snapped back. "It matters because I won't stop fighting for something here, now, if it still exists. I wish you had told me, Nona, I wish you would tell me because I want to trust you, I want to see you and feel happy not, this-- this--" Ollie's brow contorted as he struggled to describe how he felt when she wasn't with him. It was similar, he realized, to how he felt when he was with her, but only because it felt like things had become so difficult. "--- not feel this pain of not knowing what I had done, what I could have possibly done to drive you away---"

His grip on her tightened further, as Ollie not felt frenzied with her in his grasp. He would loose her soon, he was sure, and most likely only had a few honest moments left. "We should be together, Nona, I want to be together. Nona---" he repeated her name now, more than ever, hoping it would help anchor her to how deeply he felt for her. "I want you Nona, even if it means that things won't be easy. Life is never easy, this wouldn't be worthwhile if it was easy, don't you--" Ollie hesitated for a moment, his instilled courage finally beginning to deplete.

"Don't you agree?"

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raindrops
2014-01-16 02:00 am UTC (link)

There was an indisputable rightness to their touch, even so many years later, which brought a fresh wave of tears to her eyes. How did four years change everything and nothing all at once? There never would be a future between them… would there?

Nona had been so sure of that fact just moments ago, but looking into his eyes, being wholly unable to turn away, had her questioning her certainty.

"I—yes, but—" Ollie was so persuasive, so reasonable, her head spun in confusion as to why she could not be the same, "I don't—I don't…"

His words wrapped her up in a warm, safe feeling, and for just a moment she saw… something. Two people curled up beneath the covers at night. Two places at the table. A study crammed with books of poetry and music and art crammed between volumes of magical theories and Muggle science. She imagined all these things in a daze, but it was the image of a small head bent over, covered with dark curls, that had her starting in his arms.

"I need time," she said softly, though panic began to rise in the back of her throat. Those warm, wonderful, reassuring words she wanted to believe beyond all measure, she couldn't trust them. Nona knew, she felt very strongly, that Oliver had no ill-intention toward her, but it felt like a trap nonetheless. "I need—some time, to think about all of this. I don't… I don't know what to do. I know how I feel but it's not—it's not so easy. Please."

Nona broke away suddenly, as if she was afraid his touch might burn her. She backed away as she pleaded, "Time. You have to give me that."

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