𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐒; remus lupin¹

𝐱𝐱. going "home"

Tw: mentions of rape and panic attacks

Lyla stared out into the window.

She had been uncharacteristically quite the entire train ride.

The others didn't want to say anything and just gave her space.

Lyla was grateful for that.

All she wanted right now was to enjoy that last moments of calm before she went back home with her family.

She was excited to see her mother again, but the thought of what her father might say is what haunted her.

Lyla desperately tried to push those thoughts out and just stare at the countryside that they were passing.

The luscious grass that had different shades of green, and some brown.

The light blue sky and the fluffy white clouds that littered here and there.

The sun poked through, its intensity was strong as usual.

It looks like a painting. Lyla thought.

She smiled as she remembered her mother's words.

Whenever Lyla was little and didn't know what she could paint she would always go to her mom.

Her mother, Emilia always told her that she was an artist, and that the world was her muse.

She said that there would always be things in Lyla's life that could give her inspiration.

Whether it was a scenery, a memory, or a person, there would always be things that Lyla could capture.

Things that she could paint and loose herself in.

"Everyone on this planet is an artist my little rose. When someone's born they always start with a black canvas, but as they get older and meet new people or make new memories, the canvases start filling up with color until eventually there full and they can't add anything else. That's when they know, there time here is up." Emilia spoke softly to her daughter.

"When their canvass is full?"

Her mother nodded and continued to put flowers in her daughter's hair.

"But just because the canvass is full, doesn't mean you can't start a new painting Lyra."

Lyla turned towards her mother in confusion.

Her mother smiled and sighed.

"The ones we love never really are gone, they jus-"

"They just started a new painting." Lyla finished.

Emilia kissed the top of her daughters head and cupped her face.

"Precisely my love."

Lyla smiled at her mother before turning back around.

Emilia continued to hum a song as she gently brushed her daughter's wavy hair with her fingers.

"The world is your muse." Lyla thought as she stared at her family garden.

And after that she went to her art room and painted the exact scenery, so she would always be reminded of the memory between her and her mother.