[ She'd dealt with it the same way she dealt with many things, in that she didn't exactly. They're all coping with it in their own ways; Helga confines herself to her cooking where she thinks no one will catch the tears falling from her eyes, Godric continues to laugh merrily, and she turns to her books and buries herself in them as much as she can.
Salazar is gone and no amount of magic or enchantments will ever make the idea sit right.
But they've got the school to carry on and children to teach and examples to set, so Rowena tries her best to forget the fact that it feels like someone's ripping apart the people closest to her. She knows Godric's hurting the most because Salazar was his best friend and the fact that he won't mention it only confirms her suspicions. Still, they play this little game where he doesn't show the worry in his heart and she doesn't ask. She's not sure what comfort she could offer, or what condolences, if it were ever brought up -- Helga's the one that's always been better at this kind of thing.
But when she feels the arms encircle her connected to the ever-warm body she's come to recognize as Godric's, she slowly marks the page in her book, careful not to damage the pages, and places it down gently. ]
Godric? [ Her voice is kind and surprisingly soft, even to herself, but she knows this doesn't feel like any of the moments when Godric's come to tease her while she studies. Her hand drifts to cover one of his and she squeezes it wondering if this is the moment when he's been pushed to the brink and can ignore his problems no more. ]
no subject
Salazar is gone and no amount of magic or enchantments will ever make the idea sit right.
But they've got the school to carry on and children to teach and examples to set, so Rowena tries her best to forget the fact that it feels like someone's ripping apart the people closest to her. She knows Godric's hurting the most because Salazar was his best friend and the fact that he won't mention it only confirms her suspicions. Still, they play this little game where he doesn't show the worry in his heart and she doesn't ask. She's not sure what comfort she could offer, or what condolences, if it were ever brought up -- Helga's the one that's always been better at this kind of thing.
But when she feels the arms encircle her connected to the ever-warm body she's come to recognize as Godric's, she slowly marks the page in her book, careful not to damage the pages, and places it down gently. ]
Godric? [ Her voice is kind and surprisingly soft, even to herself, but she knows this doesn't feel like any of the moments when Godric's come to tease her while she studies. Her hand drifts to cover one of his and she squeezes it wondering if this is the moment when he's been pushed to the brink and can ignore his problems no more. ]