RP: Air
Characters: Cho Weasley.
Location: London Streets, the flat.
Date: 4th of April, 2000
Status/Warning: Openish, as usual.
Summary: There is an unusual freedom in union.
Completion: Complete.
A month into the ring on her hand, and Cho had little to say anyway.
The walk took her far out of the flat, to where the faces of the buildings grew smooth and worn and unfamiliar, like the features of a portrait on a coin. (An astragal, a gable.) Cobblestones and broken curb -- she moved on until the sandals slapped and rubbed raw the skin at her heels, their not-so-perfect fit. A not-so-perfect hair day. Could it be said she was happy? Yes. Cho was happy, in the airiest of senses: one minute there, and the next back again.
Since returning, she'd set the flat back in order, fallen into daily routines, here-and-there, hustle bustle; she'd grown independent again, comfortable again, an appropriate other half. Truthfully: it could only be said that since promising her life to someone else, she was her own person for the first time in months. It happened in the twilight between sleep and their first -- or second -- breakfast home. Cho had taken up and become herself, or some semblance of self: a wary, doe-like thing, rubbing sleep from black eyes.
Strange to wake and find you had built an entirely different life while unconscious; still, she studied the band of hematite under sun & rain and the porcelain of their bathtub and it was good, a good thing. (A beautiful thing?) One month in and Cho wanted to be with Percy more than ever -- it was just that she also wanted herself, wanted to love herself, and it was almost possible, almost right again. She was willing to walk straight into Scotland if that was what it took. Sunhats to the horizon. Onward!
In difficult areas of town Cho was jostled happily, for once un-hostile, free; her skin didn't bristle at the swell of a crowd in the narrow street. She ghosted through their ranks easily, only pausing once, and here was the trick she'd learned: close your eyes and you're anywhere. Close your eyes and you're no where at all.
By the time Cho came home, all was warm and simple: a vague breeze to tangle-untangle a head of dark hair. For a moment Ms. Weasley simply sat at the top of the stairs, breathing. She crossed dewy legs, fanning air between skin and shirt, and smiled. Then she went home.
Location: London Streets, the flat.
Date: 4th of April, 2000
Status/Warning: Openish, as usual.
Summary: There is an unusual freedom in union.
Completion: Complete.
A month into the ring on her hand, and Cho had little to say anyway.
The walk took her far out of the flat, to where the faces of the buildings grew smooth and worn and unfamiliar, like the features of a portrait on a coin. (An astragal, a gable.) Cobblestones and broken curb -- she moved on until the sandals slapped and rubbed raw the skin at her heels, their not-so-perfect fit. A not-so-perfect hair day. Could it be said she was happy? Yes. Cho was happy, in the airiest of senses: one minute there, and the next back again.
Since returning, she'd set the flat back in order, fallen into daily routines, here-and-there, hustle bustle; she'd grown independent again, comfortable again, an appropriate other half. Truthfully: it could only be said that since promising her life to someone else, she was her own person for the first time in months. It happened in the twilight between sleep and their first -- or second -- breakfast home. Cho had taken up and become herself, or some semblance of self: a wary, doe-like thing, rubbing sleep from black eyes.
Strange to wake and find you had built an entirely different life while unconscious; still, she studied the band of hematite under sun & rain and the porcelain of their bathtub and it was good, a good thing. (A beautiful thing?) One month in and Cho wanted to be with Percy more than ever -- it was just that she also wanted herself, wanted to love herself, and it was almost possible, almost right again. She was willing to walk straight into Scotland if that was what it took. Sunhats to the horizon. Onward!
In difficult areas of town Cho was jostled happily, for once un-hostile, free; her skin didn't bristle at the swell of a crowd in the narrow street. She ghosted through their ranks easily, only pausing once, and here was the trick she'd learned: close your eyes and you're anywhere. Close your eyes and you're no where at all.
By the time Cho came home, all was warm and simple: a vague breeze to tangle-untangle a head of dark hair. For a moment Ms. Weasley simply sat at the top of the stairs, breathing. She crossed dewy legs, fanning air between skin and shirt, and smiled. Then she went home.