Rosalie hadn't walked this street since before the Pit opened and caused so much destruction. It was an easy one for her to avoid, as it wasn't near her parents' home or Noble's workshop, but she still knew it would've been a lie to believe it was a street she avoided unconsciously. Cecilia had been her favorite of Ezra's siblings, the one she was most excited to call her sister, (not that Rosalie had anything against Johanna, they just hadn't clicked the way her and Cecilia had.) and even though that particular dream had never come to fruition and their friendship had gone with it, Rosalie still couldn't quite believe Cecilia had died.

Died, just as Ambrose had, in a thoughtless, meaningless accident.

Today, however, walking this street was an unavoidable task, for she was to have tea with her mother's old friend who lived only a few houses down from where Cecilia used to.

It might've been easier to floo, but then Rosalie would've had to explain why she hadn't wished to walk on such a beautiful autumn day. She would've had to mention the beautifully kept house she had to walk past and the baggage associated with it. She would've had to endure the pitying eyes and pushy encouragement to move on. Which meant facing the street and all the grief associated with it.

However, as Rosalie spotted Ezra's hunched position on the porch, she couldn't help but wish she had floo'd instead. They hadn't parted well at the last function when he'd approached her, when he'd asked if there was anything else she wanted (you she wished she had said), and he was grieving. Rosalie didn't imagine he would react well to her presence, but - "Hello." She greeted quietly. "I'm sorry about Cecilia."

But - Rosalie had never been able to leave well enough alone.

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