Mystic Mornings, Mystic Children

The wounds that time healed were often superficial and the movement of the clock hands saw others open in their place, ones that cut far deeper than their predecessors. Yet, as the edges of the timepiece’s face were filled in they opened up new places, twisted the brass doorknockers and threw open doors to rooms previously unexplored. Those superficial wounds allowed her to walk again and in the place of decorum she did the unthinkable: she ran. She allowed calluses to bruise her skin and strength to build in her muscles and the sun to kiss her face with its rays. She could feel the blood in her veins, thundering in her ears as she skidded and leapt and dived, thrumming until she reached her peak and rest called. Yet she pressed farther, as far as her body could traipse until it overtook its resistance and became, unfathomably, robust and fit.

The soul was a different, difficult matter to contend with but with ever breath of cold, winter air into her lungs she knew that it was sewing itself back and gaining a defence against those who dared to destroy it. As she repaired her outer coverings, strengthened the body which took on her world, her soul began to, too, soothe itself and rise once more. The demands met at her lips and the wit sparked her mind as she poured through tomes that bore language and art and knowledge she’d left untapped at the very tips of her fingers. With the aid of a small university she began to rebuild and at the encouragement of her mentor, she applied for a small occupying form of work in Diagon Alley which would give her purpose for three days a week.

To her surprise and infinite delight, Flourish and Blotts enveloped Athena Rookwood in the bindings of their establishment and put her to work immediately. Suspect though their initial intentions may have been she soon showed to be competent and was certainly appreciated whenever she came in to do her shifts. A few of her co-workers had hesitantly been bold enough to comment on her proficiency, unable to quite see how a skill-less Pureblood woman could be so useful around a shop - no offense, of course. Athena took the comments in her stride, a smile on her lips as she realised that she was proving everyone wrong - mostly herself. She was finally beginning to feel better again. She certainly looked it.

That particular morning was a bright yet chilly one and when Athena entered the shop she was pleased to find that it was already heaving. Work would go on for a few hours yet before she would be able to have some lunch and she found herself clad with an excited turn within her as she was, for the first time in what must have easily been nearly a year, going to have lunch with Mira who she’d, actually, gotten an interview for Flourish and Blotts. Athena wasn’t sure if the young woman appreciated the idea of work as much as she did but hoped that Mira would get the job. At least that way she’d see her friend much more.

After pinning her badge to her jacket, Athena smiled at the woman the other side of the counter and took the books from her, setting about scanning them and sorting out the purchase. Encouraging the woman to have a good day, Athena watched the lady go for a few moments before encouraging one of the other waiting people to come forward and, thus, her day began.