Larissa Sedgwick
Well-Known Member
- Messages
- 7,537
- OOC First Name
- Beth / Bethy
- Sexual Orientation
- Bisexual
- Wand
- Cherry Wand 12 1/2" Essence of Wood Rose
- Age
- 8/2009
12th March, 2032.
The cold ebbed away as the sun rose on the light of another day in England. It was a fair sight easier to survive the passing time as the seasons changed and Winter fled. The street was lit with gold sunlight as Larissa walked, barely recognisable beneath the mop of died black hair and pallid features. Her hoody stretched across the bump beneath, revealing how long she had been gone. Eight months had passed just like that. Her bones ached with the focussed weight. Had it not been for her magic, she would have died long ago.
The ancient church stood in the shadow of a large brick office block, but the signs outside beckoned her in. Larissa traipsed inside the building and seated herself upon a heavy wooden bench, too tired to notice the aged woman arranging a vase of flowers beside the font.
The sounds of muggles outside awakening to the promise of a new day, became a muffled sound cushioning Larissa's weary head. She slumped forward, her eyes closing, giving way to sleep. But her peaceful moment did not last for very long. A faint kicking invaded her dream. Larissa's hand instinctively fell to her bump, stroking it to sooth the creature. But it did not settle. In fact, it grew more restless with each passing moment until a pain struck Larissa's body, jolting her fully awake, bringing her to her senses. She gasped, unintentionally alerting the aged woman to her presence, who immediately moved to her side to offer comfort.
"My dear, are you alright?"
Larissa tried to shake her head, but another pain shot through her. Raising her head to look the woman in the eyes, she tried to shift her hand and highlight the large bump. But it was far too early for this. It wasn't time.
She could hear herself internally beg for another moment of rest just to regain some strength, to give herself a chance.
The woman, now aware of her condition, hurried into the vestry to contact someone for help. She returned but a moment later with a neatly shaven man in black clothes. He looked flustered and confused, but upon siting Larissa, turned to the aged woman and ordered her to wait outside for the ambulance.
The man's eyes found Larissa's face, witnessing her pain. He outreached a hand for her to hold. She was too weak not to take it, to question her beliefs and her life choices. Then again, it was not like she had not jepordised that enough already.
The wait felt like an eternity. Her labour grew more intense and painful as she struggled to hold back the tears. She fought them for her dignity. She did not want them to know her suffering. She wanted no-one to know. But at long last, the ambulance reached them, a man in green clothing began speaking to Larissa, promising her that she would be kept safe.
The hospital stank of disinfectant and the breeze passing through sent a shudder down her spine, but Larissa had no freedom, now, no privacy to hide her child. She panted and pushed and did as she had done before for her daughter, and the hours passed by with little sign of progress until the afternoon had arrived in a scream and a cry, a final push and a bolt of adrenaline. The creature was free, sooner than expected, caged in a unit and monitored at it's mother's bedside.
Larissa fell back against her pillows, advised to rest and thankful of the safety of the room. The door was closed and her eyes did likewise, nestling her into an exhaustive sleep.
When she awoke, Larissa's first instinct had been to bathe, to eat, and to watch over her newborn baby boy. A nurse encroached upon her space, looking to the child and Larissa's fingers reaching through to stroke his tiny fingers.
"'e's beautiful," she beamed, passing Larissa a hot tea and setting to work making the bed while it was vacant, "'ave you got a name for 'im yet? I always liked the idea of naming mine after relatives. You know, to 'onour 'em, like."
Larissa stared absently into the incubator, not wholly listening to the musings of the young nurse, not really caring. She already knew the child's name, even without the nurse's prompting. She had decided it during one long Winter's night when the cold had seared her cheeks and she had saught shelter at a hostel, where she had remained for a number of weeks before moving on to the next one.
"He has a name," she finally replied, looking to the nurse with her piercing blue eyes, "and his name is Godric."
She kissed his hands through the open incubator, holding her son for the very first, and the very last time. His warmth sent her heart into a frenzy of love for him. But she knew he could not be hers to keep. She looked deep into his blue eyes. Just like his father's. A tear trickled down her cheek as she kissed the top of his head and set him back in the safety of his incubator. She looked at him with melting sadness.
"I'm sorry, Godric," she spoke steadily as she could, "I love you. I will always love you. This is for your own safety. They will look after you, I promise. Daddy will find you."
Larissa pressed a tiny note into the child's hand, shot him one last look of goodbye, and disappeared down the corridor unnoticed.
Godric lay in the incubator, clutching the note and sleeping, unaware of the life-changing situation that would now leave him to question why his mother had left him alone in a busy English hospital, and why his father would not turn up for another nine years.
The cold ebbed away as the sun rose on the light of another day in England. It was a fair sight easier to survive the passing time as the seasons changed and Winter fled. The street was lit with gold sunlight as Larissa walked, barely recognisable beneath the mop of died black hair and pallid features. Her hoody stretched across the bump beneath, revealing how long she had been gone. Eight months had passed just like that. Her bones ached with the focussed weight. Had it not been for her magic, she would have died long ago.
The ancient church stood in the shadow of a large brick office block, but the signs outside beckoned her in. Larissa traipsed inside the building and seated herself upon a heavy wooden bench, too tired to notice the aged woman arranging a vase of flowers beside the font.
The sounds of muggles outside awakening to the promise of a new day, became a muffled sound cushioning Larissa's weary head. She slumped forward, her eyes closing, giving way to sleep. But her peaceful moment did not last for very long. A faint kicking invaded her dream. Larissa's hand instinctively fell to her bump, stroking it to sooth the creature. But it did not settle. In fact, it grew more restless with each passing moment until a pain struck Larissa's body, jolting her fully awake, bringing her to her senses. She gasped, unintentionally alerting the aged woman to her presence, who immediately moved to her side to offer comfort.
"My dear, are you alright?"
Larissa tried to shake her head, but another pain shot through her. Raising her head to look the woman in the eyes, she tried to shift her hand and highlight the large bump. But it was far too early for this. It wasn't time.
She could hear herself internally beg for another moment of rest just to regain some strength, to give herself a chance.
The woman, now aware of her condition, hurried into the vestry to contact someone for help. She returned but a moment later with a neatly shaven man in black clothes. He looked flustered and confused, but upon siting Larissa, turned to the aged woman and ordered her to wait outside for the ambulance.
The man's eyes found Larissa's face, witnessing her pain. He outreached a hand for her to hold. She was too weak not to take it, to question her beliefs and her life choices. Then again, it was not like she had not jepordised that enough already.
The wait felt like an eternity. Her labour grew more intense and painful as she struggled to hold back the tears. She fought them for her dignity. She did not want them to know her suffering. She wanted no-one to know. But at long last, the ambulance reached them, a man in green clothing began speaking to Larissa, promising her that she would be kept safe.
The hospital stank of disinfectant and the breeze passing through sent a shudder down her spine, but Larissa had no freedom, now, no privacy to hide her child. She panted and pushed and did as she had done before for her daughter, and the hours passed by with little sign of progress until the afternoon had arrived in a scream and a cry, a final push and a bolt of adrenaline. The creature was free, sooner than expected, caged in a unit and monitored at it's mother's bedside.
Larissa fell back against her pillows, advised to rest and thankful of the safety of the room. The door was closed and her eyes did likewise, nestling her into an exhaustive sleep.
When she awoke, Larissa's first instinct had been to bathe, to eat, and to watch over her newborn baby boy. A nurse encroached upon her space, looking to the child and Larissa's fingers reaching through to stroke his tiny fingers.
"'e's beautiful," she beamed, passing Larissa a hot tea and setting to work making the bed while it was vacant, "'ave you got a name for 'im yet? I always liked the idea of naming mine after relatives. You know, to 'onour 'em, like."
Larissa stared absently into the incubator, not wholly listening to the musings of the young nurse, not really caring. She already knew the child's name, even without the nurse's prompting. She had decided it during one long Winter's night when the cold had seared her cheeks and she had saught shelter at a hostel, where she had remained for a number of weeks before moving on to the next one.
"He has a name," she finally replied, looking to the nurse with her piercing blue eyes, "and his name is Godric."
She kissed his hands through the open incubator, holding her son for the very first, and the very last time. His warmth sent her heart into a frenzy of love for him. But she knew he could not be hers to keep. She looked deep into his blue eyes. Just like his father's. A tear trickled down her cheek as she kissed the top of his head and set him back in the safety of his incubator. She looked at him with melting sadness.
"I'm sorry, Godric," she spoke steadily as she could, "I love you. I will always love you. This is for your own safety. They will look after you, I promise. Daddy will find you."
Larissa pressed a tiny note into the child's hand, shot him one last look of goodbye, and disappeared down the corridor unnoticed.
Godric lay in the incubator, clutching the note and sleeping, unaware of the life-changing situation that would now leave him to question why his mother had left him alone in a busy English hospital, and why his father would not turn up for another nine years.