epilogue

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EPILOGUE
( the last goodbye )

EPILOGUE( the last goodbye )

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*・゚

GOODBYES ARE CERTAINLY NOT one of Spencer's specialty. She never noticed, but it is completely horrible. It reminds her of her goodbye to Blaise during Dumbledore's funeral... the way she had to remind herself that they would see each other at Fleur and Bill's wedding, but in reality, she had no utter clue. All the times she had to leave, Spencer hated it. It was easier to not say goodbye, but that only expressed selfishness. In hence, goodbyes are painful. They grab a hold of a string holding two people together and breaks it or perhaps turns it loose. Either way, a loss seems to occur.

The sun's warmth spreads among her arms allowing for the heat to provide a hug in the form of nature. Purple hyacinths are held tightly around Spencer's hands, blooming and awaiting to be placed down. Truth be told, they are not the prettiest flowers. Not a chance. And yet, Spencer knows it fits well in both meaning and presence.

She gently kneels down, keeping herself balanced while at the same time placing the same purple flowers onto the ground. It leans against the gravestone that has the name 'Morgana Montague' embedded through. Despite the grave being fourteen years old, the carving already appears as if it has been there for centuries. It is dusty. Cold. Distant. Everything that somehow reminds her of that who lays inside.

Spencer never visited before. She could not... not then. Not for ages. Maybe that made her a horrible person, but she has come to realize that there would have been no point for her to visit when she was not ready. What would she have done then? Simply stare down at the grave? Her heart was not ready, nor was her mind. Sometimes, she fears even today it is not prepared as well. There is a short sensation of hesitance, but Spencer knows— she can feel the need to do it.

Her fingers trace along her sister's name, carefully and with a shiver of nervousness. Images of Morgana's last minutes of life flashes within her mind, and she closes her eyes harshly wanting to make them disappear. Spencer takes a deep breath before deciding to keep her focus on the flowers she brought.

"You know," Spencer starts off in a low whisper, in a tone meant only for her and the spirits to hear, "I read that purple hyacinths are meant to represent sadness and forgiveness. This... well, it is definitely sorrowful, but I'm not here to ask for forgiveness."

She releases a small, bitter chuckle and slowly begins to rest her knees comfortably knowing there is way more needed to be said. Spencer pauses for a few moments hoping to find words to match what her thoughts are whispering. She bites her lip carefully, stopping herself from suddenly becoming overwhelmed with dozens of emotions. Instead, Spencer finds herself gulping in preparedness before opening her mouth.

𝐄𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐘 ━ blaise zabini ✔️Where stories live. Discover now