December 9th, 1892 @mdash; Winnie’s Boarding Room, Pennyworth
Bronwyn Moony
Bronwyn Moony
There was little use denying the extent to which Dory was struggling. He wasn’t sure where or when it had happened but somewhere along the way his feelings for Mabel ran deeper than a simple passing fling. He’d known any involvement with her outside of friendship would ruin them and still Dory carried on with the affair. Still, he carried on making mistake after mistake until there was nothing left between them but ashes.
Somehow, Winnie was able to recognize he was going through something as she had seemingly disappeared into the shadows. He hadn’t ever said anything about Mabel, but she had to have known there was someone, right? The same way he knew she had regained her confidence and had found another partner shortly before his fling began. Telling her about Mabel felt strange though, as if he would be crossing a line he didn’t know existed until now. Would he want to know if she had fallen for someone else? Dory immediately knew the answer to be a resounding no. Still, Winnie deserved some sort of explanation for the distance. Some sort of reasoning to justify how they’d gone from practically living together to going days without speaking.
Determined to at least say hello to her, Dory floo’d to her place shortly after arriving home from work only to find her room empty and fire cold. Earlier this year he would have simply waited for her, sprawled out on her bed with his novel until she came back. However, now waiting felt awkward, like this wasn’t his space to occupy anymore. Perhaps it wasn’t. They’d never had the talk they were building towards in June, they never specified what their relationship was to be. Winnie had every right to fall in love with someone else, just as he had. No, he couldn’t wait in her room, for if she arrived home with a lover he wasn’t sure how he’d react.
Penning a quick note to leave on her desk — proof that he’d been here, proof that he was trying to bridge the distance he’d created — Dory headed back to the fireplace and was seconds away from grabbing a fistful of powder when the small space lit up green. “Er - hi,” he awkwardly greeted, taking a few steps back to allow her room.
Somehow, Winnie was able to recognize he was going through something as she had seemingly disappeared into the shadows. He hadn’t ever said anything about Mabel, but she had to have known there was someone, right? The same way he knew she had regained her confidence and had found another partner shortly before his fling began. Telling her about Mabel felt strange though, as if he would be crossing a line he didn’t know existed until now. Would he want to know if she had fallen for someone else? Dory immediately knew the answer to be a resounding no. Still, Winnie deserved some sort of explanation for the distance. Some sort of reasoning to justify how they’d gone from practically living together to going days without speaking.
Determined to at least say hello to her, Dory floo’d to her place shortly after arriving home from work only to find her room empty and fire cold. Earlier this year he would have simply waited for her, sprawled out on her bed with his novel until she came back. However, now waiting felt awkward, like this wasn’t his space to occupy anymore. Perhaps it wasn’t. They’d never had the talk they were building towards in June, they never specified what their relationship was to be. Winnie had every right to fall in love with someone else, just as he had. No, he couldn’t wait in her room, for if she arrived home with a lover he wasn’t sure how he’d react.
Penning a quick note to leave on her desk — proof that he’d been here, proof that he was trying to bridge the distance he’d created — Dory headed back to the fireplace and was seconds away from grabbing a fistful of powder when the small space lit up green. “Er - hi,” he awkwardly greeted, taking a few steps back to allow her room.