𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐂, 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘱𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳

𝐨𝐧𝐳𝐞

in which blue is consumed by a stupid unexplainable feeling

(tw! this chapter has some slight mentions of anxiety!)

ˑ༄ؘ

THE DAY OF THE FIRST TASK ARRIVED much sooner than Diana would have liked. Though truthfully she would have much preferred for the event to never transpire at all, and so here she was lying in her bed, allowing the early
morning sun to bathe her in it's golden glow. The sound of her dormates occasional snores as they remained in a peaceful slumber, the only thing filling envelope of the then and the now that was silence.

Diana watched as the sunlight streaming through the curtains danced upon her skin, allowing the golden flecks to swathe her in its bronze glory. Finding comfort in the auric glow that spread over fields, oceans, and deluged the world in its aurelian glory, allowing herself to deluge in its solace.

Diana stayed in bed, allowing the sunlight and its ultraviolet rays to encompass her in its warmth, leaving the comfort it provided, only when Skye threatened her with the augumenti charm, causing the girl to hastily don her silk uniform, spewing curse words at her friend all the while.

She went through the first half of her lessons in a daze, trying to ignore the darkness that was anxiety clawing away at her thoughts, altering them to mirror the worst possible scenarios.

Fleur, dead.

Harry, dead.

Diana's mind was a ticking time bomb, her own thoughts her worst enemy, for Diana was a slave to her own mind, anxiety her master.

She allowed her thoughts to be plagued by the infamous monster known as anxiety, as she went from lesson to lesson, pushing them aside only at lunch where she tried to get Fleur to eat, concealing her nerves behind a well fabricated mask. Only allowing her dangerous thoughts to consume her once more when alone, in the solace of her empty dorm room, where she allowed herself to indulge in the obscurity that was her mind, as she changed for the first task, only to push them away again when Skye entered the dorm. Concealing her fear behind her large denim jacket, as though her nerves were woven in the fibers of her sweater.

It was as though she was drowning. The impending darkness that was anxiety filling her lungs, making Diana feel as though she couldn't breathe, slowly succumbing to the obscurity that seemed to be swallowing her whole.

Though all of it, her stress, her anxiety, her nerves, remained hidden behind her well fabricated mask, one few could see past.

And so, here she was sitting standing in the Beauxbatons section of the arena for the first task, her hand linked with Gabrielle's (Skye had met up with George, and was yet to return) as they waited for the event to start. Her anxiety hopefully hidden behind her nearly perfected mask, as to not worry Gabrielle more than she undoubtedly already was.