 did anyone order a mixed metaphor Lovely™ | Captain Hurted | Ariana's Bane | Resident Antagonist | Unparalleled Delight
At least this time Nem was prepared for it, the lack-of-anything-whatsoever, when Grantham lowered her wand again. No disappointment, even. Everything very much the same. Had they not made the agreement they just had, about the Vow, would things have been different? Nem thought not, that being more or less threatened at wand-point was something that had likely lost its thrill years ago, if it ever had it in the first place.
Either way, they opted to think no more about it, at least until they could do so in private. They drove the thoughts well back so that their mind was clear again, free to focus entirely on the problem at hand: the faltering Bernadette Grantham, teetering precariously at the edge of some precipice. Exactly what kind of precipice, and why, Nem still didn't know for sure, but they could tell that much.
It really was fascinating.
Just watching her now, after their entire conversation prior - on the bench and while walking - called to mind all manner of images, though Nem's mind defaulted to fire, as it invariably did. Bernadette Grantham was a flame, sparked into life by who-even-cared-who-or-what-or-why, and then... what? Left to burn unchecked for the most part, and then alternately accelerated and stamped out. Sometimes she raged, sometimes she exhausted the air supply, sometimes a gale-force wind blew through to stir her up into a frenzy, and sometimes that same storm sent a downpour to push her back again.
Maybe it was more accurate to say that Bernadette Grantham was not just the fire, but the kindling as well, and the house around it. And, you know, not to feed into a stereotype or anything here, but Nem had always had a knack for that sort of thing. An interest.
While ruminating on these thoughts, Nem had been watching Bernadette Grantham closely, letting herself stammer and stutter her way to some sort of conclusion. At that point, when she started giving herself a pep talk or whatever, they moved back across so they stood by her side once more. "I happen to like you, Bernadette Grantham. That's not going to stop just 'cause you're not that nice to me sometimes." Nem removed one of their hands from a pocket, looped it through one of her arms, and repocketed the hand. Height difference made it awkward, but whatever.
"So, kneazles?"
__________________ Days of Potter 2023:___________________________ Which Bertie Botts Flavour Are You?
You are Chocolate! |