𝑳𝒆𝒈𝒂𝒄𝒊𝒆𝒔 ~ 𝘉𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘉𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 (𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘤)

~ 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙴𝚕𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 ~

- 1979 -

Beatrice's bare feet dug into fresh soil, a breeze sending her stark black hair billowing behind her. She hiked up the small hill, her arms swinging in order to maintain her balance. 

She had on a loose, flowy dress. It had a yellow background and sported small pink and purple daisies and roses. It hung around her, flowing with her leg movements. The sleeves puffed around her shoulders, coming to a cinched close on her upper bicep. 

As she rose over the hill, she inhaled at the heavenly and bewitching sunset. It looked like a painting. The colors blended together seamlessly, looking to trick the viewer into thinking that the colors hadn't changed at all. The sun was almost below the horizon, and it glowed an alien-like orange.

Beatrice welcomed the feeling of the dirt between her toes, falling sun warming her nose, breeze  flowing through her hair and plastering her dress along her figure.

On the top of the hill sat a tree, and under the tree sat a boy and a girl on a picnic blanket. The girl lay sprawled out in the boys lap, a sketchbook in hers. His hands absentmindedly played with her hair, twisting the strands between his fingers just as Beatrice would twist the tassel of the pillow in hers. The girl's wrist flicked as she sketched the tree before her, and occasionally she'd pause to liken to the boy's reading. 

The boy had the same kind of dark hair that Beatrice did, and it rustled in the breeze. His voice was unwavering and his face displayed the epitome of contentment. His eyes were a deep, noticeable shade of gray that shone in the light of the rapidly setting sun. He had on a button down shirt that was, indeed, buttoned down three buttons, revealing the line that separated his pectoral muscles and dipped down. His sleeves were rolled up in a careless manner, like he shoved them up his arms in a snap. He had a defined jawline and full lips which remained parted just slightly, even when he wasn't talking. His shirt was tucked into his black loafers that rose and opened at his ankles, making his shirt baggy and flowing.

The girl had blonde hair and green eyes. Her eyes were so green the Bea was sure that if she girl looked at her, she would feel the contact of her gaze against her skin. She had a red satin tube top on, and a black leather jacket draped over her knee. On her bottom half, she had sky blue bell bottoms that were tight around her waist and thighs, and loose around her shins and ankles. On her feet were shining black platform combat boots. She wore a red bandana in her hair like a headband. She would comment on things the boy said, making witty remarks that caused the boy to look down on her with admiration spilling from his smile and awe crinkling at the corners of his eyes.

Beatrice picked a spot near them, flicked over her dress and sat on her knees so she could listen to this beautiful couple's conversation.

"I didn't think the poets would write so explicitly," the girl shook her hands in exasperation. 

The boy chuckled. "You'd be surprised," he smiled and the gesture remained on the tips of his lips for a few seconds.

The girl fell into a thoughtful silence. "Regulus," she started after a while, pushing herself up to a sitting position. She sat with one leg tucked into her body and the other straightened out; a position Beatrice usually utilized. He turned his attention to her, he was so attentive that if he were a cat, his ears would have perked up too. "Regulus," she began again, shifting her position nervously. "I'm pregnant," she murmured.

"You're..." Regulus faded off.

She nodded, curt, business-like. "Pregnant, yes."

"How can you be sure?"