Book one of two.
Post war.
Odette Elara Viotto can't help but feel foreign in the place she grew up in, and seems to believably lie that she is coping like others around her.
After one dark wizard perishes, another forges- reeking havoc within the...
(!!TW!! This chapter contains mentions of blood, death, violence and more upsetting topics)
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Odette Viotto -
Do not try to be pretty. You weren't meant to be pretty, you were meant to burn down the earth and graffiti the sky. Don't let anyone ever simplify you to just "pretty".
- Things I wish my mother had taught me| d.a.s (via solacity)
The morning sunlight poured into the dark room through the slightly ajar door, hitting the raven haired girls eyes painfully as she slept soundly in an abandoned study.
Odette Viotto dreamt macabre things, ever since she was an innocent child- though, innocence was never a common concept tossed around to describe the only living Viotto daughter.
This night, she dreamt herself in a meadow, surrounded by sunshine and lilacs- warm spring air sent her hair into a whirlwind of raven and umbra, blowing the stained white gown she wore north.
It seemed there was no one for miles, just her alone with nothing but her thoughts.
She inhaled the sweet scent of newly blooded flowers and fresh green grass, feeling the blades dance in the wind against her bruised and bloodied feet.
For once, it was not a memory she found herself in- no, she had never stood here in this meadow, never inhaled the spring air that enticed her to forever remain in the confounds of fresh flora.
The sound of small birds singing sweet harmonious melodies sung in her ears, relaxation- something she hadn't experienced in months- became her, lifting her chest as she took in this peaceful moment, allowing the sunlight to absorb in her porcelain.
She would surely burn if this were real, she thought.
Her feet carried her across the meadow, her fingers caressed each flower and blade of grass she passed- a large swallowtail butterfly flew alongside the Slytherin girl, its wings blowing weak air against her lashes.
She thought of a quote she had once read in a muggle book, gifted by her dear muggleborn friend; Hermione Granger.
"You've heard of the butterfly effect, right? That if a butterfly flaps its wings at just the right time in just the right place. It can cause a hurricane thousands of miles away."
That theory branches out further than butterflies- in theory, one assassination can lead to a war.
The girl felt complete in the meadow, that none of her worries or troubles could reach her this far from reality.
