- Messages
- 655
- OOC First Name
- Linda
- Wand
- Padua - Aoaman Wood wand with essence of Griffin feather 10 3/4 inch
Isabella Ormonde had come along way since she had regained the last dregs of her memories. She had been able to mourn the loss of her daughter and was now on a better road to recovery regarding this tragic loss; her past with Izaak Finch was completely and utterly in the past. There was no more dragging it up to wound her, no more mentioning of his name in hushed tones or otherwise. She had laid that particular ghost of her past to rest, her heart was no longer sore because of him and she was so glad of this. Now that she ran the tavern single handedly with no more help from Goia, she had decided to move out of the pokey room and with the money she had saved had put down a deposit on a beautiful old lakeside cottage. It looked somewhat out of place alone by the lake and looking more wizarding than muggle but she did not mind and certainly did not mind the strange looks that she received from the muggles who passed it to go fishing on the lake. It was all hers and the privacy it afforded her, the peace and tranquility it rendered was priceless.
As days had passed to weeks and eventually months, her thoughts had never strained too far from Canada and the family who had taken care of her. She wrote often to them letting them know how she was and that her entire memory had at last been restored. But one person in particular she wrote too and one person in particular she delighted hearing from and that was Luke. She knew without a shadow of a doubt that whatever she had once felt for Izaak was but a drop in the ocean for what she felt for the kind and gentle muggle. Her was the soul mate she had been searching for and yet she had been unable to tell him, had been so afraid that it was her veela nature that he had found pleasing and not her. But they wrote so often and their letters had been filled with so many things of their ordinary day, their hopes and dreams.
She spoke her heart in those letters without ever actually admitting to loving him, always hoping that he would come to visit but something always happened, always came up either on her side or on his. So she was certain that fate had not intended them to be. After leaving the Leaky Cauldron straight after the lunch time rush, she returned back to her cottage and gazed from the porch steps out to the side of her house where the shimmering water of the lake seemed to beckon to her. Sliding her feet from her high heeled sandals she strolled barefoot though the shrubbery to the edge of the lake, dipping her toes into the cold water. Her arms circled her waist as she sighed deeply gazing out at the beauty that had drawn her to this place. In her mind she began to pen Luke another letter, it was how she always wrote to him. First she would feel the letter out with her heart as she gazed out across the lake and later that night as if it had all been consigned to memory, she would write out out word for word. As she gazed out now she imagined telling him at last the words that had been so long in coming but part of her feared she had already left it too late. Much too late.
As days had passed to weeks and eventually months, her thoughts had never strained too far from Canada and the family who had taken care of her. She wrote often to them letting them know how she was and that her entire memory had at last been restored. But one person in particular she wrote too and one person in particular she delighted hearing from and that was Luke. She knew without a shadow of a doubt that whatever she had once felt for Izaak was but a drop in the ocean for what she felt for the kind and gentle muggle. Her was the soul mate she had been searching for and yet she had been unable to tell him, had been so afraid that it was her veela nature that he had found pleasing and not her. But they wrote so often and their letters had been filled with so many things of their ordinary day, their hopes and dreams.
She spoke her heart in those letters without ever actually admitting to loving him, always hoping that he would come to visit but something always happened, always came up either on her side or on his. So she was certain that fate had not intended them to be. After leaving the Leaky Cauldron straight after the lunch time rush, she returned back to her cottage and gazed from the porch steps out to the side of her house where the shimmering water of the lake seemed to beckon to her. Sliding her feet from her high heeled sandals she strolled barefoot though the shrubbery to the edge of the lake, dipping her toes into the cold water. Her arms circled her waist as she sighed deeply gazing out at the beauty that had drawn her to this place. In her mind she began to pen Luke another letter, it was how she always wrote to him. First she would feel the letter out with her heart as she gazed out across the lake and later that night as if it had all been consigned to memory, she would write out out word for word. As she gazed out now she imagined telling him at last the words that had been so long in coming but part of her feared she had already left it too late. Much too late.