[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/PZIjxHX.png[/img]
[sub]A collaboration between [color=gray]Ollivander[/color][@BeastofDestiny] & [color=steelblue]Elizabeth[/color][@The Muse][/sub]
[hr]
Still perched for the hour plus amount of time he’d stayed on that bench, Ollivander had witnessed the progress of time unfold around him. Initially there was peace, then suddenly the press had encroached upon the location he had so dearly held unto his heart as a safe haven.  Undoubtedly the news stations of not just this town, but from cities far away. Cities that had never once held an ounce of delight to the seclusive town tucked neatly away from the ‘juicy stories’ that they sought after. No, today was just another day of newscasters ready for the next harvest of social curriculum. In the eyes of Ollivander they were nothing more than 3rd graders seeking attention, willing to go outside the norm to be seen by the peers around them.

Ollivander sighed, his hands gently caressing the etchings upon his cane. Had he ever been so cynical? Was it simply his old age, or was it the news of recent events? The possibility was that it was a bit of both, the anchor teams gathering around the community center certainly weren’t helping the old man’s opinion either. Despite everything that was happening to the small town he grew up in and loved, he was a scholar first and a bigot second, and everyone had a history. What may have brought one from point A to point B is their story and their reason for being there. As much as he could judge as the human he was, he had to take some form of logic into account and think rationally. Before he could continue his thought process however, a voice pulled him back into reality.

[color=SteelBlue]"Doing okay, Mr. Clarke?"[/color]

Startled from the sudden comment, Ollie turned towards his most recent companion. Blinking a couple of times, his mind wondering how she had snuck up on him, only to realize he knew the answer to that. He simply smiled and chortled out. [color=gray]“My dear Elizabeth! That’s my line, don’t you know?”[/color] He laughed out in as much earnest as he could produce before that earnest gave way to half-heartedness.  His chuckle fading, his sad eyes setting back in he sighed, [color=gray]“Forgive me my child, I tend to forget that those who are my students are sometimes… adults as well”[/color] Resting his chin heavily on his cane he pondered, [color=gray]“No...I suppose I’m not doing ‘okay’ Elizabeth… Ever since I heard the news from you, I’ve mostly just been...in deep thought.”[/color]

He still remembered the tears and emotion he felt from his young pupil, how he handled the situation rather quickly amongst the other staff and the dean of office. It wasn’t until he returned to his manor that the full gravity of the situation set in and he broke down himself. He shook his head in earnest, voiding the demons from his mind and the glassiness from his eyes. He’d recommended the young girl to be out of school per his request and formal submittance, but he hadn’t seen her since. Placing an aged hand on her shoulder he smiled softly, noting the tear stained, puffy eyes of one who deeply cared for the loss of her friend, only dreading the news to soon be announced. [color=gray]“As I said my darling, this is a question for me to ask...how are you doing?”[/color] She certainly wasn’t a dumb or arrogant girl, and more than likely she knew just how bad he was feeling. That being said, as her elder, he couldn’t help but be concerned for her and only hoped for the best, most likely knowing the truth of the situation; She was devastated.

Immediately, Elizabeth’s green eyes welled with tears. She was not okay and for some reason saying it out loud would have made it worse. She shook her head, unable to speak lest the water works begin all over again. Taking in a deep breath, she looked out over the calm river and patted her eyes with the sleeves of Lily’s hoodie. The care expressed on Ollivander’s face and in the tone of his voice was too much right now. She needed it, but the love felt like it was begging her to crack. She was on the verge of a mental break down and fighting so hard not to completely lose it. 

[color=SteelBlue]”Not… very good…”[/color] She sniffled and returned his gaze, finally finding her voice once again. [color=SteelBlue]”I’m sure you can tell by my…”[/color] She gestured to her face and let out a small chuckle, knowing how bad she must appear. Hopefully the media cameras didn’t intend to film the crowd members… 

Sighing, she relaxed into the bench and anxiously rolled one of the hoodie strings between her fingers. [color=SteelBlue]”What do you think they’ll tell us?”[/color] She was fighting tears again, feeling the frog in her throat trying to steal her voice once more. [color=SteelBlue]”N-...no news is good news….. right?”[/color]

Instinct was to reach into his vest pocket and produce a handkerchief for the young woman, but she already had her own in the form of the sweater she wore. It looked awfully familiar, he’d seen Lillian come into class wearing it now that he was recalling? Was it perhaps a gift? Maybe just left over from a night of slumber partying? Either way Ollivander had no reason to question why Elizabeth had it, after all the two girls were practically tied at the hip since the first day they met one another. He looked at the young woman as she attempted to regain her composure, the sweater was probably a necessary item at the moment. The bright orange article of clothing, a reminder of someone lost, the amount of nostalgia that it held was more than likely insurmountable, and the weight on Elizabeth’s shoulders… he couldn’t even begin to fathom.

Her next question, however, gave him pause; [i]“No news is good news…”[/i]. He looked at her in earnest before turning his head to the reporters, given the pomp and circumstance that was being pulled off...the likelihood of the speech to be of a positive volition… was rather bleak. Everyone wanted the fairy tale ending, the prince kisses the princess, they live happily ever after; Hansel and Gretel make it back home after baking the witch in her own oven. To this girl, however, her happily ever after would be after she reunited with her best friend and he didn’t have the heart to tell her that not only was her friend just missing, but was more than likely gone from her mortal coil. Turning back to face her, a soft smile on his face, he tried to reassure her, [color=gray]“That’s always the hope my dear,”[/color] but despite the evasive answer he did want to prepare her in some way, [color=gray]“Whatever happens today though, we must try to be brave, ‘keep a stiff upper lip’ as my father would say. That being said, there’s nothing wrong with the way you feel right now, and no matter what happens I’m here for you, as I’ve always been for you and your family.”[/color] His mind had wandered back to her mother’s funeral, a poor unfortunate soul whose life had been cut off far too early from this world. It changed her father, and though Elizabeth wasn’t always as cheerful as she used to be, she still carried on. Ollivander respected her for that, that strength as she carried all the weight of the world on her shoulders. He couldn’t even imagine what would happen to her if Lillian never returned, was never found, or even killed. To have something like that happen, it’d break the young woman’s heart.

Elizabeth nodded in agreement, though his notion of “whatever happens today” made it feel like something was constricting around her heart. It was getting harder to breathe the longer this day went on. The longer her life went on, truly. [i]“Cursed…”[/i] the word crossed her mind again; one of those intrusive thoughts you don’t mean to have but they slither out of the darkness and torment you for the rest of the day anyway. 

[color=SteelBlue]“You have always been there for my family…”[/color] she echoed in confirmation, remembering how her father had crumbled at her mother’s funeral. Ollivander had been there to support them and to remind their father that he still had a family to care for despite the circumstances. He had to stay strong and be present. If not for Ollivander, she wasn’t sure how her father would have pulled through. It had been four years since the accident, and her father had never been the same, but Ollivander had always been there; checking in on them from time to time, making sure her and the boys were doing well and that her father was taking care of himself too. 

Once, on a night that Lily had been out of town and the twins had gone to a sleepover, Elizbeth’s father chose to get belligerent drunk. He became abrasive, saying words he would normally never utter to her. He had been so angry at her, at the world. She had supposed it was his way of dealing with pain, but it was not something she signed up for… so she left. With no best friend to turn to, Elizabeth’s next best option had been her dear family friend Ollivander Clarke. He only lived a couple blocks away and she figured that he would take her in… she had hoped. When she arrived, of course, his door had been locked. It was 2am afterall. Refusing to be rude and wake him, she had resigned herself to spending the night on his porch. At least it was warm outside, considering it was the middle of summer. It wasn’t the ideal sleeping situation, but it was better than being verbally abused inside her own home. However, clumsy as she was, she had tripped over the plant stand outside his door and knocked over a broom. A few of the planters had loudly clinked together and the broom bounced several times against the concrete. Just as she had picked up the broom, the front door flung open. 

[color=gray]“YOU RAPSCALLIONS! I'LL SLICE THE LOT OF YOU, I'LL BUTCHER YOUR SONS! I'LL....[/color] Blinking a couple of times at his supposed intruder, he mouthed, [color=gray]“Elizabeth?”[/color]

She yelped and jumped backwards, away from the Afghan cane sword he was swinging around at the assumed intruder. After a few moments of awkwardness, he had invited her inside and brewed some tea to discuss why she was at his house at 2 in the morning. Emotional and trusting, she had told him everything about what her father had been up to and why she had to get away. Shortly after, he allowed her to sleep in his spare room for the night. Not even a full week later, Ollivander had presented her with a key to his house and told her that she was welcome any time; day or night, dusk or dawn. They were truly bonded after that. The man was a saint and her guardian angel - that’s what Elizabeth had called Ollivander in her journal entries. He still lived up to the name, even if he didn’t know it. 

Breaking from her thoughts, Elizabeth sat upright, turned to him and stoutly wrapped him in a tight embrace. [color=SteelBlue] “Thank you… I don’t know what we’d do without you.”[/color] She lingered there for a moment before pulling away. Hearing a familiar truck, she looked towards the community center and spotted an old beat up [url=https://i.pinimg.com/originals/6a/36/b8/6a36b80d6391686e3bdcf543b326adb2.jpg]Ford F150[/url] from 1990. [color=SteelBlue]“My dad and the boys are here.”[/color] She felt a sinking feeling in her chest, knowing how close it must be to noon if they were arriving. [color=SteelBlue]“I’m going to go meet them so we can sit together. Want to join us?”[/color]

Perhaps he had said the wrong words? She had grown quiet, only to mutter the same words he had just used. He let Elizabeth process them, wondering if maybe he had gone too far with his speech, the last thing he wanted to do during this rather dire moment was- … then it stopped, her lithe form making contact with his body in a light, yet endearing embrace. Her words of thanks only floored him as his eyes suddenly moistened to the gratefulness this young woman had expressed.  His own hands had wrapped around her body to return the favor, [color=gray]“You’re welcome my dear...Truly”[/color] He felt tears streaming down his face as she let go of him, now it was time to finally retrieve that handkerchief he’d meant for her, dabbing at his own face before returning his gaze to hers.

Noticing where she was looking though, he himself turned to look in that direction only to look at his watch and confirm that the time was nigh. Sighing once again, he pocketed the watch and listened to her simple, yet thoughtful request. Though he wasn’t nearly as worn as his student, his aged face was showing their tell-tale signs of sadness and despondence, yet he wasn’t about to reject such a request from a longtime friend. [color=gray]“But of course,”[/color] he readied himself to stand up, mostly using the cane for support so he could right himself. [color=gray]“Shall we go then, my dear Elizabeth?”[/color] Ollivander then extended his arm, because having been born English, he was a gentleman first, and a scholar second.[/center]