Such Sweet Sorrow - Printable Version
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Such Sweet Sorrow - Lyra Potter - February 5, 2018
March 14, 1884 — August's Home, Wellingtonshire
There was too much blood. Lyra didn't even think she had that much blood in her, much less that much to lose. If she survived this, she remembered thinking in a state of near delirium, she was going to have to kill someone. Immediately.
That was the first time, during the process of this entire pregnancy, that she had ever thought in terms of if she survived this. The infant's survival had always been uncertain; experience had taught her that even human life was so fragile, and the circumstance they were in was so unnatural. She, however, was a survivor; she had survived childbirth, had survived both her parents and one brother, she had survived a crazy Squib with a knife and a vampire attack. She was immortal, or near enough to make no matter; now, for the first time in almost a year, Lyra was thinking of her own mortality.
The midwife didn't speak much–they had picked her out specifically for her discretion, not for her fantastic bedside manner. Aside from a few coarsely-delivered instructions, she did little to influence Lyra's mental state, which left the vampiress to her thoughts. The baby is going to die, and then I'm going to die, were the chiefest among them. That's too much blood. We're all going to die.
But that wasn't so bad, was it? Darcy was dead, and so were both her parents. Technically speaking, she was, too. August would have a hard time convincing them to exhume her casket to rebury her, when she had already been "buried" for a year, but really, everything was just returning to its natural state.
That was where she was, mentally, when she heard the infant's cry. "What is it?" she asked, voice slurred from pain and effort. "What is it? A boy or a girl?"
"A boy," was the midwife's rather brief reply, before she took the baby, still slick with blood, out into the hallway to meet his father. Lyra could barely see when she came back into the room. Her head was spinning, and she felt weak and drained. Too much blood. She might not have been able to see the midwife come back towards the bed, but she could smell her—and when she leaned over to see whether Lyra was still conscious, she could hear her heartbeat.
It was more a reflex than a conscious thought, but by the time the door opened again, the midwife was dead. Dead, and entirely drained of blood. Lyra's head had stopped spinning enough for her to realize what she'd done about halfway through the process, but she didn't have the self control to stop herself. She hadn't ever had the self-control to stop, when she slipped up like this, and at this point it would have just been a waste of good blood, anyway. The midwife was not going to walk away from this one.
Sitting upright in the bloodstained bed that she'd given birth in, with the corpse of the midwife lying limp across her lap, Lyra looked towards the door and blinked. The light in the hallway was brighter than that in the room, she thought, and she was having trouble making August's form resolve into more than a shadow, though she knew it was him in the doorway.
"I—" she said, raising the back of one hand to her mouth to ensure it wasn't still smeared with blood. "I didn't mean to — I couldn't help it," she stumbled. "I felt like I was dying."
August Echelon-Arnost
RE: Such Sweet Sorrow - August Echelon-Arnost - February 18, 2018
August waited in the hallway, seated in one of his wooden dining room chairs, staring up at the ceiling because that let him distance himself from the events occurring in the room. He had tried to read, tried even to work on one of his cases, only to find himself nervous and distracted. It was too early. It was taking too long. The baby was going to die, he was sure - and over the course of the last few months, August had grown rather attached to the idea of having a child. Their child.
The nursery wasn't even done yet, he could not help but think, which was the most coherent thought he had had for the past hour. He was stuck on this thought, trying to process it, when the midwife came out with a squalling baby wrapped in a towel. He was so small, and she was wiping blood and fluids off of him.
"A boy," the midwife said shortly, and August took him wordlessly, and stared down at the baby. He held it to his chest on automatic, his own heart thumping. The baby was so small, and yet he was alive, and August was suddenly very worried that he would break him.
So it took him a few minutes of holding the infant to realize that the midwife had not come back and - with no sense of trepidation, yet - August stood up, and handed the baby off to his housekeeper. He watched as she turned the corner with him, presumably to wash him off or take him to the nursery. August stepped into the room.
The smell of blood was expected but strong and August wavered, pushing the door behind him. Everything was red, and August looked desperately to Lyra -- for the first time he worried about her life. Could this kill vampires? Had it?
Even her mouth was red and it wasn't until she wiped the blood off of it that August looked to see the midwife draped over her. The woman was entirely limp - no miraculous transformation into a vampire possible - and August tapped the end of his cane against the floor, as if he was going to step further in, or perhaps away. He did not move.
"Fuck," he said, because that was the only thing coming to mind, "Fuck - you're - not dying now, are you?"
The nursery wasn't even done yet, he could not help but think, which was the most coherent thought he had had for the past hour. He was stuck on this thought, trying to process it, when the midwife came out with a squalling baby wrapped in a towel. He was so small, and she was wiping blood and fluids off of him.
"A boy," the midwife said shortly, and August took him wordlessly, and stared down at the baby. He held it to his chest on automatic, his own heart thumping. The baby was so small, and yet he was alive, and August was suddenly very worried that he would break him.
So it took him a few minutes of holding the infant to realize that the midwife had not come back and - with no sense of trepidation, yet - August stood up, and handed the baby off to his housekeeper. He watched as she turned the corner with him, presumably to wash him off or take him to the nursery. August stepped into the room.
The smell of blood was expected but strong and August wavered, pushing the door behind him. Everything was red, and August looked desperately to Lyra -- for the first time he worried about her life. Could this kill vampires? Had it?
Even her mouth was red and it wasn't until she wiped the blood off of it that August looked to see the midwife draped over her. The woman was entirely limp - no miraculous transformation into a vampire possible - and August tapped the end of his cane against the floor, as if he was going to step further in, or perhaps away. He did not move.
"Fuck," he said, because that was the only thing coming to mind, "Fuck - you're - not dying now, are you?"
RE: Such Sweet Sorrow - Lyra Potter - February 20, 2018
Lyra was still feeling vaguely dizzy. It was a common feeling after she had just had access to fresh blood, which was something she hadn't had in a good long while, coupled, most likely, with some lingering symptoms from the rather rough labor she'd just been through. As such, she wasn't even sure how to answer his question. Was she still dying? Had she ever been dying, or had her hunger only made it feel that way?
"No," she said, her voice rather small. Glancing down guiltily at the body laid out across her lap, Lyra tried rather ineffectively to wriggle out from under the weight. The bed wasn't really big enough to have anywhere to go, was the problem, and she didn't think it would be very respectful to just push the body off on to the floor, particularly when the woman had just brought her through a very painful delivery in good faith — misplaced faith, it seemed, since she was dead.
The thought of the delivery brought her mind momentarily away from the corpse, however, and she glanced up at August anxiously. "Is the baby —?"
The last one had not survived, and she had been alive for that one.
RE: Such Sweet Sorrow - August Echelon-Arnost - March 11, 2018
August found that he couldn't look directly at the body - was instead looking around it, eyes darting, and finally he focused on Lyra's face and tried not to think about it. (What was he going to do with it? What was he going to do with the blood that was everywhere?)
He smiled when she asked about the baby, startled into joy. "He's alive," he said, "Mrs. A is washing him off - Lyra, he's alive." He had a son, a son who was so small and pale and incredibly fragile and currently entrusted to his housekeeper. But his son - their son - was alive. That was incredible.
The cost, it seemed, was the midwife.
He smiled when she asked about the baby, startled into joy. "He's alive," he said, "Mrs. A is washing him off - Lyra, he's alive." He had a son, a son who was so small and pale and incredibly fragile and currently entrusted to his housekeeper. But his son - their son - was alive. That was incredible.
The cost, it seemed, was the midwife.
RE: Such Sweet Sorrow - Lyra Potter - March 11, 2018
August's smile was contagious, and Lyra found herself smiling as well, despite everything. She hadn't smiled often since the transformation a year ago. For one, there hadn't been much to smile about, but even in those rare moments of joy she had been consciously training herself not to smile. Her teeth were traitors, now, and a glimpse of them when she didn't intend it could give all of her secrets away. She couldn't even think why she was happy, exactly, but she was. What was more, she had a sudden, urgent desire to see the baby — still in the process of being cleaned or not (what did she care about blood?) — and shifted her weight in the bed to try and sit up more fully. This, of course, brought her attention back to the corpse of the midwife on the bed.
She had just murdered the midwife. The moral gravity of the act hit her now more or less for the first time in full, as it was always difficult to really process things in the haze after having just consumed fresh blood. She would have to figure out what to do next — her usual modus operandi for this sort of thing involved making the body look as though it had just been through a crime of some sort and then traveling as far away as she could before it was discovered. That would be much more complicated now that there was a child, she thought —
Except what was she thinking of? She could not possibly stay here with August after having killed the midwife. The chances of her being caught were too high, at which point all of her secrets would come out. August would be incriminated, as well, and then what would become of their child? No, staying was out of the question — but so was leaving, with her baby alive somewhere in the next room. Her child, hers and August's; the world as she knew it had chosen a new center of gravity, and it revolved around him, this infant boy that she had yet to see. How could she possibly leave?
But how could she stay? This arrangement with August had never been one they had discussed with any sort of long-term future. She could not trust herself to continue living in Hogsmeade and subsisting off of whatever blood he could acquire for her on the black market, nor could she reasonably ask him — a lawyer and a respectable gentleman besides — to continue performing such a service for her. If he was discovered at any point, his life would be ruined and his reputation forfeit forever — not to mention what the discovery that she was 'alive,' in a manner of speaking, would do to poor Ben. And what of the child? Would it really benefit him to grow up shrouded in constant secrecy, with the likes of her as a mother?
But could she possibly condemn her only child to growing up without a mother at all?
The smile had fallen from her face and Lyra was quiet for a long moment, wrestling with her inner demons. It was not as though he would be abandoned on a church door step and left to fend for himself. August had money, and she could not imagine he would settle for anything other than excellent care for his child. Still, the idea of leaving physically pained her. Could she possibly bear it?
"You'll take good care of him?" she eventually said, with a great deal of difficulty.
RE: Such Sweet Sorrow - August Echelon-Arnost - March 16, 2018
August was utterly unaware of the debate going on in Lyra's mind - instead, he was returning his attention to the midwife's body. He was going to have to deal with this, sooner rather than later - specifically he was going to have to deal with it sooner than she could be discovered by anyone else in the house. But how did one even hide a body in a town like this? Should he bury it?
No, he realized - there was a lake. If he weighed down her body and dumped it in the Black Lake, it would surely be ages before it was discovered, and by the time she was found she would be identifiable only as (if anything) the victim of a vampire. It could never be traced to him, and with Lyra under everyone's radar...
His train of thought was derailed by her next statement. "Hm?" August said, "Of course - of course." Now that the baby was here, and alive, and here - there was nothing more important to August, immediately. Until the baby arrived he had not known what to do but now their son was here and - Lyra was asking him about raising him.
August tilted his head at her, just slightly. "Lyra -" he said, slowly, with a frown, "Are you going to - go?"
He wanted her to stay, desperately. He didn't know how to do this alone.
(He did not know how they would make it work together, either, and he knew this too.)
No, he realized - there was a lake. If he weighed down her body and dumped it in the Black Lake, it would surely be ages before it was discovered, and by the time she was found she would be identifiable only as (if anything) the victim of a vampire. It could never be traced to him, and with Lyra under everyone's radar...
His train of thought was derailed by her next statement. "Hm?" August said, "Of course - of course." Now that the baby was here, and alive, and here - there was nothing more important to August, immediately. Until the baby arrived he had not known what to do but now their son was here and - Lyra was asking him about raising him.
August tilted his head at her, just slightly. "Lyra -" he said, slowly, with a frown, "Are you going to - go?"
He wanted her to stay, desperately. He didn't know how to do this alone.
(He did not know how they would make it work together, either, and he knew this too.)
RE: Such Sweet Sorrow - Lyra Potter - March 19, 2018
Lyra hesitated. She knew the answer, of course — they both did — but she wasn't sure of the best way to say it, and she had the feeling that this would be a moment she looked back on many times in the coming days (or weeks, or months, or years). She wanted to find the right words.
"I can't stay," she eventually said quietly. They both knew it was true, of course. There had never been a future in which Lyra had imagined herself staying here and playing mother to their child, not really, and the simple logistics of trying to stay were staggeringly difficult. Truth be told, she had never allowed herself to imagine a future with a child in it at all. When she had been pregnant before, she had spent long nights with her hands stretched out on her rounded belly, staring up at the stars and wishing the world for the little girl inside of her, but her little Estella had never drawn breath. Even the idea of imagining that this child of hers and August's might live had been too painful to seriously contemplate. Now that it was here — now that he was here — she had no idea what to do.
Could she even be a mother to a child, in the state that she was in? Her body wasn't warm, the way it ought to be. If she tried to hold him, would the child recognize her as the woman who had given him life, or squirm and shy away from her like the dead thing that she was? Would her body even produce milk if she wanted to nurse him? If she stayed that would be the only possible cover for her to interact with the child, and she wasn't sure she was even physically capable of it.
With some difficulty, she managed to squeeze out from under the drained corpse of the midwife and get to her feet. The nightgown she was wearing was stained with blood. Some was dabbled on her chest, but most was lower, from the birth. Lyra didn't like to waste blood, and even in her nearly delirious frenzy she had 'spilled' very little of her latest meal. Her head spun when she stood and her legs felt weak from disuse. How long had she been in labor? She had no notion of time. It was dark outside now, but she didn't know how much longer it would remain so. "I'll need a clean dress," she said distantly.
RE: Such Sweet Sorrow - August Echelon-Arnost - April 2, 2018
August opened his mouth to argue, but closed it. She was right. She was right, and he felt as if he was going to topple over from the weight of her leaving and that body and, then, the weight of raising their son. Because when Lyra left - and she was going to leave - then it was going to fall on him. All of it.
The baby-cries and the toddler first steps and when eventually their child started to develop a personality - that was going to be on him. August would be responsible for all the childhood misadventures, teenage disappointments and successes, and eventual adulthood. He would be responsible for telling their son about his mother, when the time came. And he was going to be alone for it.
"And we have to name him," August said, "We have to name him before you go."
It was such a stupid thing, a name. It didn't really matter. But of course it mattered, it mattered more than anything, and August wanted her to have a voice in that.
The baby-cries and the toddler first steps and when eventually their child started to develop a personality - that was going to be on him. August would be responsible for all the childhood misadventures, teenage disappointments and successes, and eventual adulthood. He would be responsible for telling their son about his mother, when the time came. And he was going to be alone for it.
"And we have to name him," August said, "We have to name him before you go."
It was such a stupid thing, a name. It didn't really matter. But of course it mattered, it mattered more than anything, and August wanted her to have a voice in that.
RE: Such Sweet Sorrow - Lyra Potter - April 8, 2018
Name him.
A wave of something blew through her. What emotion was that? Grief? Pain? Longing? How could she name a child she would never hold, and child she would most likely never see?
"August," she said, struggling against a choking feeling in her chest to force the words out. "I — I'm not sure I can."
But on the other hand, how could she not? Of course August would be perfectly capable of naming a child without her help; he was no imbecile. But how could she leave today with the knowledge that the child, her child, existed somewhere in the world, alive and well and growing, and not even know what to call him?
But that way of thinking would only lead to pain. This child was not hers. She may have born it for nine months, but she could not mother it, could not care for it. There was nothing more that she could give this infant other than what she had given him already, and any interaction she did have in its life would only be to its detriment. This was August's child. August could give him so much more than she ever could, and there would be no benefit in thinking of this boy as hers.
RE: Such Sweet Sorrow - August Echelon-Arnost - May 10, 2018
"Please," he said. His voice was almost empty, as if someone had reached into his chest and hollowed him out. Which was, August supposed, exactly what was going to happen. She was leaving him, again, for good this time. She would not come back. "I can't do this on my own."
He was going to. He was going to, because he owed it to the baby down the hall - their baby, the baby they worked so hard to protect already, the baby the midwife died for. He could not do this completely alone.
RE: Such Sweet Sorrow - Lyra Potter - May 18, 2018
Lyra started to shake her head, but stopped. There were tears gathering at the corners of her eyes, and she didn't want to let them fall. You have to, she thought, but she couldn't say the words. As she looked at August she realized how unfair this was to him, and how helpless and alone he already looked. He hadn't asked to raise a child, and the infant boy had not asked to be born to such a hopelessly blighted set of parents, but that didn't change the fact that the baby was here, and someone would have to care for it, and that someone could not be her. She could not give him anything like a normal life, even if she could care for him, which she wasn't even sure she was capable of doing. Was her body still functional enough to produce milk for a baby? It seemed nonsensical, a dead body offering up nourishment for life. She had no money for a wetnurse, though, and even if she did... she could not trust herself around something so small and fragile and undefended as a newborn.
But August looked so stricken, standing there, and she could not leave it entirely to him, either, if he was asking for her help.
What's in a name? she thought, the words drifting to her mind as part of a bittersweet memory. The two of them exchanging lines from Shakespeare through letters, back when they had been carefree and happy but too stupid to know it.
"Alright," she said, raising her hands to wipe the tears out of her eyes before they had a chance to trickle down. She needed to pull herself together, at least for a few more minutes. "Alright, then. What was the last Shakespeare play you read? You do still read Shakespeare, don't you?" she said, her tone attempting levity even though the world was falling to pieces around them.
RE: Such Sweet Sorrow - August Echelon-Arnost - May 21, 2018
Despite everything - despite the blood and the body, despite their son - August was able to smile at Lyra's tone. It didn't reach his eyes. Things had been so much easier when he quoted Shakespeare to her in letters, when they accidentally became engaged, when the biggest concerns facing them were all about her brothers' approval.
But he hadn't stopped reading Shakespeare.
"A Midsummer Night's Dream," August admitted. After Lyra's return and her brother's death, he had not picked it up recently - but it was sitting half-completed in his office, waiting for his attention to return to it.
But he hadn't stopped reading Shakespeare.
"A Midsummer Night's Dream," August admitted. After Lyra's return and her brother's death, he had not picked it up recently - but it was sitting half-completed in his office, waiting for his attention to return to it.
RE: Such Sweet Sorrow - Lyra Potter - May 25, 2018
She'd read that one, but that wasn't surprising. She'd read all of them. One had a lot of free time on one's hands once the need (and desire) for sleep was eliminated, and reading was one of those pastimes that was easily accomplished during the day or night. She read Shakespeare because it reminded her of him, during the months that she'd been trying to stay away from Hogsmeade, but the canon was limited, and so she'd run out of plays sooner or later. She'd probably read them all again someday, when she was feeling nostalgic and they weren't quite so fresh in her mind, but she was familiar enough with them now.
"Oh, good," she said, smiling despite the fact that tears had appeared from nowhere to well at the corners of her eyes. "A comedy. That's good, don't you think? Someone deserves a happy ending." And they both knew it wouldn't be either of them. Maybe once she left, however, her son could have what she never would: a long, happy, and healthy life. August could give him that.
"Let's name him after one of the lovers," she suggested softly. Honestly, anyone from Midsummer would have been better than, for instance, Coriolanus or MacBeth, but she wasn't as fond of the mischevious fairies or the silly, thick-headed tradesman as she was of the pure and innocent lovers. "The ones who forget all of the bad things that happen in the forest and end up married and happy at the end."
RE: Such Sweet Sorrow - August Echelon-Arnost - May 28, 2018
A comedy was better than any of the alternatives -- Merlin forbid that August had been rereading Romeo & Juliet. And the boy would have a happy ending. August was determined of that.
He wanted to brush the tears away from Lyra's eyes, but knew better than to reach for her now. Instead he looked at his shoes and then back at her, and said, "That's Lysander or Demetrius, isn't it?" Both got their happy endings after all the fairy-induced shenanigans, with no memories of the pain or the drama of the night.
He wanted to brush the tears away from Lyra's eyes, but knew better than to reach for her now. Instead he looked at his shoes and then back at her, and said, "That's Lysander or Demetrius, isn't it?" Both got their happy endings after all the fairy-induced shenanigans, with no memories of the pain or the drama of the night.
RE: Such Sweet Sorrow - Lyra Potter - May 30, 2018
"That's right," she said, with a subtle smile. The tears in her eyes weren't falling, just clinging to the corners, and she reached up to hastily wipe them away. She supposed the child would need a middle name, too, but they couldn't just put the two together. Lysander Demetrius was far too many syllables, and sounded a bit pretentious, besides — like something the Lestranges might come up with, which had never been the Potter's bent. Lyra didn't think August had much in the way of particularly wordy names on his side of the family, either, probably because Echelon-Arnost was already so ridiculous in and of itself.
So where to get a middle name? She tried to think of something that would sound nice, something meaningless and unconnected to either of them, but then a thought occurred to her which, despite her better judgement, she wasn't quite able to shake.
Maybe if it had been more than a month since she'd heard the news of her brother's death, she would have been able to put reason first and emotion second. She knew that the suggestion was unreasonable, and illogical, if they wanted this child to have the best chance at life — which necessitated having as little as possible to do with her. Still, something in her — some tugging at her heartstrings — forced her to suggest, in a quiet and almost timid way, "M-maybe we could call him Lysander Darcy."
RE: Such Sweet Sorrow - August Echelon-Arnost - June 1, 2018
Lysander Darcy.
August never much liked Darcy Potter when the man was alive - Lyra's brothers had done all they could to make his engagement to her more difficult - but with space and the other man's death, he could, at least, tolerate him.
Besides, Darcy had always meant so much to Lyra, and even if August could never explain the significance - even if he had to grit his teeth and pretend that he loved Darcy Potter's policies so much - he would do it for her. The Potters deserved to have some continued impact on this child, after all.
"Lysander Darcy it is," August said, with a soft smile. It didn't meet his eyes, given the circumstances, but it was still an attempt. "I think that has a good ring to it."
August never much liked Darcy Potter when the man was alive - Lyra's brothers had done all they could to make his engagement to her more difficult - but with space and the other man's death, he could, at least, tolerate him.
Besides, Darcy had always meant so much to Lyra, and even if August could never explain the significance - even if he had to grit his teeth and pretend that he loved Darcy Potter's policies so much - he would do it for her. The Potters deserved to have some continued impact on this child, after all.
"Lysander Darcy it is," August said, with a soft smile. It didn't meet his eyes, given the circumstances, but it was still an attempt. "I think that has a good ring to it."