 for the favorite emo work son astronomizzle ♧ gryffinDORK | & the rest is drag ♣ #badluckDerf
The first two weeks Charles Hollingberry had been admitted to St. Mungo's following his duel with Lucien had been ones spent unconscious. Whether this was out of medical necessity or his own body simply needing to shut down and hibernate for a while remained unknown to him. One of the healers had surely given him the full run down and lengthy analysis of just what was what, but Charles had hardly paid it much attention. He had full faith and confidence that the healers here at St. Mungo's would take care of his physical needs and have him back on his feet as soon as possible. Only going through the motions during his first week awake, Charles had begun striking up conversations and inserting the occasional grandpa joke here and there as an attempt to lighten spirits and let those assigned to him know that they were doing a fine job. And while his limb mended and he regained control and functionality to his own body, the wounds inwards (those deep metaphorical ones) struggled to mend.
Holding his grandchildren again had provided a taste of dittany to his spirit, but the weight of the rest of the wizarding world still burdened his shoulders. Particularly when he had been presented a recording of the broadcast his Acting Minister had produced. He...would have a sit down to discuss public speaking tactics and form at a later date. It was a good thing Charles had been unconscious after an intensive examination and rehabilitation session and therefore missed hearing the broadcast live. Fond of Fletcher as he was, there were certain moments during the broadcast that may have given Charles a heartattack. Then again, it reminded him of his own son when backed into a corner and forced into a responsibility they did not feel ready for. The lack of polish and candidness reflected a certain fear...and Charles respected Fletcher for stepping into this with stride.
Which only added to the guilt that burdened the Minister. Once again, when his wizarding UK was in dire need, Charles could not deliver. Yes, he had been praised for the duel...but Charles hardly felt it a victory. Lucien's demise had not been his intent and it had been an accident rather than a purposeful act. Then there was the fact that...he had never himself killed another and he felt a horrible tear in his soul because of it, guise of self defense be damned.
Out of bed and taking his 10 am walk around his private room, Charles stopped by the window to look out at the dreary weather. Visiting hours would be starting now and Charles was rather looking forward to doing something other than laying in bed 'taking it easy' and filling out the Prophet's crossword puzzle.
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When you’re stuck in a moment and your spark has been stolen .................................................. ...........
this is our time to own it, so own it.....................................
baby we were born with fire and gold in our eyes |