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'i will write you a message in the stars,
urging you to study the twilight sky and
find your way back to me'
[noor shirazie, into the wildfire: mourning depatures]
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The faint smell of rain wafted inside her cell from the small gaps in the window's frame. The window itself was at the very top of the wall and was the only indication that this cell was below ground, as all it showed were the dead, dewy leaves of autumn that covered the dirt outside. If a person were to walk past--though she had never seen anyone do so-- Addie would only be able to see their shoes and ankles at most.
The old glass quickly became a blurry mosaic of faded oranges and browns as the heavy rain covered it completely. Dull light leaked onto the wall she leaned against, igniting the sickly undertones of her skin as the drops became elongated shadows that ran over her fatigued body.
Maybe, if she had more energy, she could reach that window. She could reach and reach and her fingers could find the small ledge of its frame. She could smash the glass with her chains. She could escape, and run, run, run. The crisp air could fill her lungs. The mud and wet leaves could stick to her feet. The towering trees could shield her from the sky. The rain could wash the hurt from her hair, her clothes.
Instead, with her aching limbs and tired eyes, Addie remained slumped against the wall; her wrists no longer fighting the metal cuffs that bound them. She had been in here ever since the meeting a week--or was it longer?-- ago, fading in and out of consciousness. The death eaters did the bare minimum to keep her alive, feeding her very little, so that she could remain their weapon yet not be fuelled to acts of rebellion.
The door of the cell opened, but she did not look at whoever it was.
Addie made no effort to move away from them as their cold hands met her wrist. She prepared for insults to be spat into her ear, or rough, calloused palms to add to the mauve bruises across her face--but none of that ever came.
Instead, there was hesitation.
The hand, softer than the others, lingered over her wrist. Eventually, as she made to look at the person, they quickly placed two fingers over her skin, and a black smoke instantly emerged, making her body no longer her own.
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Adeline watched through the back of her mind as the monster--or, Dabria, now-- trailed behind a figure, and it took her longer than usual to register the back of Draco's head. He kept his eyes forward, shoulders stiffly back, and never dared to even sneak a glance at her.
