Ava-avery​:

safiyeece​:

It was always a relief to Safiye to feel known by Harper, even if not fully. She spent so much of her time reflecting back what people expected of her, fighting to live up to high expectations, none higher than her own. So much of her life was a high wire act, it was nice to sit with Harper and just be, and know that Harper saw her, even if she didn’t understand it all.

“I’ll make room whenever you want me, just let me know.” It was not a promise Safiye made lightly. On any given day she had to contend with her mother’s plans for her, any commitments she might have to the Order, and carving out some quiet time for herself, and this rarely left room for impromptu plans.But you made sacrifices for your closest friends, and Safiye was well used to sacrificing for far less.

Safiye hummed in agreement with what Harper was saying, She herself was never able to escape the nagging feeling of lack. Like there was something more out there, something that was waiting for her. It was part of what had driven her to join the Order, and what kept her there, despite being generally unwelcome. Still, even her nighttime vigilante work wasn’t enough. She still felt, as Harper put it, stalled.

She chuckled at Harper’s question. Knowing it was all in good fun she still considered it seriously. “Well, five years after a horrible tragedy is probably around when you would meet him. He’d be utterly inappropriate at first. Either too poor, or too rich, and probably rude, but there would be an unspoken attraction neither of you could deny.” Safiye broke off her faux serious monologue to giggle, then picked back up. “You are the perfect romantic heroine, though. Serious and dedicated, but secretly longing for more.”

-

“I appreciate that Saf” Harper said, knowing that her friend having an open day was a rarity (and not just because she preferred to have most things scheduled).

But when Safiye starting putting thought into answering the question Harper asked— mostly jokingly— she was intrigued. Her chin rested in her hands and her drink sat unsipped as she listened intently. But she gave a scowl with no malice behind it at ‘probably rude, but there would be an unspoken attraction neither of you could deny’

“I cannot for the life of me decide whether I love that or hate that idea. Undeniable chemistry? Sign me up. But having to deal with someone rude first…. Well,” she considered, tilting her head, “I suppose it would depend on what type of rude they are.” Harper’s giggles joined Saf’s. She couldn’t imagine talking to anyone else like this, being able to know without explaining exactly what she meant by different types of rudeness (and there were plenty).

But when Safiye continued her monologue, she yet again had Harper’s rapt attention. Harper couldn’t help but feel touched and seen, but the logical part of her brain scolded her and kept her skeptical. “Me? The perfect romantic heroine? With my bizarre hours, contradictory personality and… affection for alcohol.” She took a big sip as if to punctuate the sentiment. “But you? Growing up full of glamor and beauty; invitations to balls and charity events; getting a taste of freedom and losing it; and the most important requirement— being a hopeless romantic,” Harper over-emphasized those last words before dissolving back into giggles.

“Seriously though, I know I tease you about it, but I think it’s amazing that you’re in touch with that side of yourself and what you want. It’s a good thing… Even if it does give me some of my favorite fodder against you” Harper said, sticking out her tongue.

I opened my mouth, almost said something. Almost. The rest of my life might have turned out differently if I had. But I didn’t.

Khaled Hosseini (via sunsetquotes)

lilyeliora​:

Lily watched Harper introduce herself to the various cats, and it reminded Lily of when she’d first gotten Chess. At barely 11, Lily had taken the whole affair very seriously. She’d visited the local shelter several times looking for, as she put it, her cat. It had been difficult, there had been several animals who tempted her, tiny sweet kittens and stately older cats, but none of them had felt just right. She still remembered the day she’d met Chess. He’d been a newborn kitten, mewling with his eyes still closed. Abandoned by his mother, the shelter’s owner had said, he’d need someone special to take care of him, and Lily had just known. Of course, now she knew that she’d gotten lucky, that Chess had grown up into the perfect cat for her, but she still believed in that knowing.

While Harper was talking to the shopkeeper, Lily looked over the cats Harper had already checked out. The “highly energetic though a little possessive” tag made her chuckle, because it reminded her of Chess. The tabby with white paws was a handsome fellow, but Lily wasn’t surprised Harper had passed on “calm and independent.” She couldn’t keep herself from attempting to get his attention, holding out her hand and clicking her tongue. She prided herself on being something of a cat whisperer, and after a few moments he rewarded her with a cursory sniff of her hand. She scratched his chin and then left him be. Her hopes rose as Harper seemed to connect with a small grey cat, only to be dashed by the shopkeeper’s words.

Lily would never consider herself someone who was good at reading people, but she was. More accurately, she had a sort of instinctive understanding of people’s emotional needs, so when Harper walked away, Lily didn’t follow. She gave the woman a few moments to collect herself and waited patiently for her to return. While she was waiting, Lily checked the labels of the other cats to see if there was another one similar to the small grey cat in personality. When Harper came back, Lily smiled encouragingly. “So we know now that you want a friendly and affectionate cat, that’s a step in the right direction. I looked at a few of the labels, I think you should introduce yourself to her next.” Lily pointed to a cat with bright eyes whose label read, “sweet and clever.”

-

Standing in the midst of the cat supplies, the variety of the offerings impressed Harper; it was like there was something for each cat. That means there’s a cat for you, she told herself, but manage your expectations the voice in her head nagged.

She soon returned to Lily and the cats, ready to jump back in. She was going to find the cat that was right for her. Maybe it would be today— she hoped it would be— but she wasn’t going to force it if it didn’t feel right.

Harper tilted her head slightly at Lily; “Thank you” she replied, hoping to convey how touched she was that the young woman had continued looking while she took a moment to recompose herself. Her gaze followed Lily’s outstretched hand until she was met with beautiful blue eyes blinking back at her.

With butterflies of anticipation, she made her way towards the cage; second row from the bottom, second to last column on the right. She saw the label that Lily had indicated, “sweet and clever.”

“Hi there” Harper found herself cooing to the cat as she reached out a hand for her to sniff, “You’re such a pretty kitty!” She didn’t know much about cat breeds, but this cat appeared to be some sort of siamese-balinese type mix; fur that was mainly whitish cream colored, with bluish-grey points and tabby markings on her head, legs, and tail.

The butterflies in her stomach intensified and the voice inside her head returned. Don’t get attached, it chanted like a mantra. But as the cat sniffed and then nuzzled forehead first into her hand, Harper couldn’t help but crack a smile, letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Slowly withdrawing her hand and starting to turn back to Lily, her head whipped back around when she felt a tap on her hand. Sure enough, a single paw rested on her hand, and the cat let out a cheerful meow.

Returning her hand to its position just inside the cage, Harper turned her head over her shoulder to Lily, and motioned her over with her free hand.

“I think she likes me?!” she half-asked, half-stated, voice full of cautious optimism.

gretchen-whoisleft​:

always a bridesmaid // gretchen and harper

Gretchen stood perched on a platform in the center of London’s Gladrags Wizardwear storefront, but neither the many mirrors propped up around the room—best to see every angle with, trifolds of glass catching the fading afternoon light outside and bouncing it around the room—nor the glass of complimentary champagne in her hand could distract her from pouting. 

In almost twenty-three years of life, she’d had her fair share of setbacks and well-justified tantrums. There was a lot to be said, too, for this ‘not being the end of the world’ and ‘not holding a candle to the war, which was far more important and was more deserving of her time.’ 

But even as a young adult and—in her estimation—a war hero in the making, Gretchen could not make peace with the fact that her mother was remarrying. 

The sting was not helped by the bridesmaid dress she was currently trying on for size, stuck with pins and clips and an uncomfortable, borrowed pair of shoes—to get a sense of how the material would drape, if it had been made out of a material nice enough to do any draping at all—and feeling ugly in a way that Gretchen Ollivander never did, and only a supremely cursed, outdated dress could inspire. 

The beleaguered tailor had realized that the only way to get Gretchen to stand still through the already-overlong fitting was to ply her with more free champagne than the shop’s policy typically allowed. Assuming they were the only two in the store, Gretchen called out to her, frowning and trying to nudge her cleavage into something that even bordered on visible. 

“I know it needs to be tasteful because it’s a wedding and all, but are you sure we can’t take some more material out of the chest?” she asked – voice carrying, encouraged by the champagne. “And I do still think it would look better in white. The bride shouldn’t get to claim it for this one; she already has three children, nobody has any misconceptions about her history.” 

-

Harper had only been in Gladrags for a few minutes, keeping her head down as she browsed, looking to see if anything new had arrived in the past few days since she’d last been in, while she waited for the tailor to be ready for her. She’d planned on entering the shop with a witty remark to the woman about her favorite— or at least, her most frequent— customer arriving. But as Harper moved to open the door, she caught a glimpse of a pout, mostly shrouded in blonde hair and a ton of dress material, and promptly decided to enter as unnoticed as possible. Whatever was going on, she knew it was best to keep her intrigue from being too obvious. Luckily, the blonde woman was far too caught up in her own misery (and champagne) to notice.

When she heard the woman’s voice call out to the tailor, however, Harper’s head snapped up and she abandoned her previous strategy, instead walking towards the room’s central platform. “Gretchen Ollivander, as I live and breathe” she started, breaking into a smile, “It’s been far too long since I’ve heard from you.”

For a moment, Harper wanted to reach out and hug Gretchen, internally very taken aback by the thought crossing her mind. She thought, with a pang, that maybe it was a sign of just how isolated she was, but quickly banished that train of thought from her mind.

Piecing together the situation she continued on, responding to Grechen’s remark to the tailor, “But no, you cannot wear white to your mother’s wedding, even though it would be, um… a small step in the right direction for this dress”

Both of the young women laughed and Gretchen lifted her hand holding the champagne flute, toasting to the sentiment. “So, when’s this wedding?” Harper asked, settling herself into a chair off to the side of the tri-folded mirrors.

*checks my email at the club*