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 and other triggering topics)
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Odette Viotto-
Love isn't soft, like those poets say. Love has teeth which bite and the wounds never close.
-Stephen King
Vivienne Emerson loved drama, she was always an enjoyer of an argumentative conversation. Sometimes, in the Ravenclaw common room, she'd create it herself— maybe steal someone's belonging and plant it with another's or hiss an untrue whisper about two people to one person who'd pass it onto the next- eventually it'd reach the people who the whisper was about, and then the yelling would begin.
Though as she sat in her mother's tea room, sipping her most favourite brew- Darjeeling- listening soundly to the sound of song bird singing in the frosty morning, it was soon rudely interrupted by the sound of loud voices from upstairs— but this time, it was not her plan to create the argument.
When the first yell came, it startled Vivienne, causing her to spill the tea on her blue nightgown that was still crumbled from the night previous.
The same night that had Odette riled up.
When the raven haired girl returned the her assigned guest room, she rolled her eyes when she saw the blonde haired boy sat at the desk by the window.
He turned when he heard her enter the room, his eyes immediately darting to her bloodied hand.
"What happ-"
"Don't pretend that you care," Odette interrupted the boy, rolling her eyes of new spring. "In fact, don't say anything at all".
The girl moved across the room, gathering new clothes to return her modesty— a black dress made of the finest silk, golden buttons down its chest, and basic heels.
"What happened to your hand?" he asked from where he sat by the window, ignoring the girls words.
Odette ignored his question, instead asked that he turn around for her to change.
The boy suspected this is what Kepler was talking about, that's what made her morning terrible.
But how did she hurt her hand?
"What happened, Viotto?" he asked for the third time. Odette could sense the impatience in his tone.
"It isn't important," Odette sighed, smoothing out the ruffles in her silk dress.
