Three years ago

How long had it been since Snežana had last felt like herself? Months, probably. She wasn't sure exactly how many; the days had long since ceased to be distinguishable from each other, each one fading into the next as a gray blur without making a meaningful impression on her. How long had this been going on? She didn't know. Since the end of January? How long ago was January? What day was it now? March something? Was it already April?

Snežana was aware, as vividly as she was ever aware of anything these days, that she was not acting or feeling like herself, not in any sense that she could recognize. She had always been so active, so ambitious, so competitive, so driven--and now she had become totally unlike her previous self, quiet and withdrawn, unable to persuade herself that anything she did mattered. Her feelings had almost all been muffled, reduced down so far that she recognized them mostly on an intellectual level rather than a visceral one, except for the occasional sharp spear of pain through her heart. In some ways, she welcomed the pain. It wasn't a pleasant feeling, of course, but it wasn't as all-consumingly awful as the dead feeling of having no emotions at all.

On some level, she was plagued with a constant regret that she was still alive. It didn't seem fair. She was alive, and her baby sister was dead, and there was no particular reason for it. There were some days when she didn't think very much about Zora, and in some ways those were the worst ones, because she felt nothing at all and there seemed to be no point, and because the guilt was even worse when she did remember. And then there were other days when she could scarcely think of anything else, and she felt horribly aware that she was alive.

Today seemed to be somewhere in the middle. She had made it through her classes, though she only half-remembered what they had been studying, and now she had found a place in the Sureau common room to sit, on the floor, with her head resting against the wall. She was out of the way; surely no one would object to her presence here, and even if they did, she didn't really have the energy to move.

Grief consumed her so easily. Of course, she was fourteen--or, no, maybe she had turned fifteen somewhere in that flat gray expanse of time--and this was the first time she had ever lost someone who really mattered to her. And it wasn't just any someone, and it wasn't even just one someone: it was the baby sister she had loved with all her heart for so many years, dead, and her mother had vanished so completely that she might as well be dead too. She did hope that Majka was alive, at least, but whether she was or not, Snežana would likely never get to see her again without some kind of miracle intervening...

She was vaguely aware of it when somebody's shadow fell on her, and turned absently to see who was so close as to interrupt her circular thoughts.

Words: 534

Tags: Minh Quân Đặng ;

made by MISSO

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This was upsetting.

Minh disliked sorrow. He understood the need for it very well, and he knew he had no place to speak about it — his life had flowed so well in his direction, almost each and every obstacle stepping aside to allow him easy passage into the future. He was not aware of what it was that plagued his fellow housemate, nor could he claim to know anything about what she was going through, but he saw how it settled over her in a constant heavy cloud of depression.

He doubted it was any small thing. Snežana had always seemed like a bright and immovable girl. That was exactly how she had seemed to him, when they met in their very first year. She was calm and collected, logical and strong-minded. Minh had not had a chance to truly get to know her, to his disappointment; they had both always seemed so busy.

At least, that had been the Snežana that he and the rest of their house had known before she had changed, completely. After so long of seeing her so capable, so important, this side of her was... unexpected. And that was to say that least. "Unexpected" did not begin to describe Minh's endless emotions on the matter.

It left him with the unsettling feeling that he had made a horrible mistake. Though it was no guarantee that if he had befriended her and given them a chance to build a friendship of some sort, she would have opened up to him about what she was going through now. He knew better than to think he could change any part of the past like that and mould it to his desires. Things happened how they had, and he could no longer alter any of it now... wishing he could made no difference, in the end. It was as little his fault as it was Snežana's.

But it seemed unfair on his part, as if he'd taken a bad step somewhere along the line or done something horribly wrong for it to be this way. He could not shake the feeling that he should have made more of an effort to reach out, so that he could be there for her when she needed it. What use was it when he couldn't help someone who needed it?

Minh disliked sorrow, that he and everyone else knew well, and more than anything he hated to see it eat away at someone like Snežana for so long. He knew not to underestimate what grim situation might have befallen her, or her family or friends. She didn't seem like the sort to make any fuss over trivial matters, and hardly for so long. The fact that her grieving (because that was what it was, right? What else could it be...?) had stretched on for so many months bothered him possibly more than the grieving itself.

He knew that whatever happened, it had shaken Snežana to her core. The fire in the Sureau common room was enough to tell him that. It had been far from deliberate, and so the shock and the horror that could produce magic like that was not something Minh ever wanted to know or experience.

Snežana should grieve. It was her right, and he had no place to tell her otherwise. Telling her to "stop" or to "pull herself together," as he often heard, was not something to say to her at all. It was her business, and she could deal with it as she liked and as she needed to. But Minh knew well that when one fell into a hole like this for so long, it could be difficult to dig themselves out.

He worried for Snežana. He might not have any right to tell her to stop grieving, but... maybe, he could at least help her to ease out of it. Make things easier. He didn't have so much faith in himself to think that he could "fix" any of it, or make it better. He was hardly even very close to Snežana... but he could at least try to help the best that he could.

If anything, he would have made the effort, and no one could say so otherwise. That would be what mattered, in the end. It might not make him feel much better, but he would know that he tried, even if he couldn't do very much.

She was in the common room, looking every bit as lonely and as sad as she had been for months now. He approached slowly, hoping not to startle her, and slid down to sit with his back against the wall a good metre from her. He should respect her space, if that was what she wanted the most right now. It likely was.

He placed an unwrapped chocolate frog on the floor, sliding it across the floor to her. He had more things with him in his bag, but if he offered them now, it might seem like a show of pity. He didn't mean it in that way at all, but he had thought it through at least and considered it a real risk.

His head reeled with things he should, could, might say. What was appropriate in this situation? He had never dealt with something like this before. He didn't know what was right. What if what he said was unhelpful, or only made her feel worse? ... in the end, though, saying nothing was worse than trying earnestly.

"Is there something I can do?" was what he settled for. He gave her a small smile, then regretted it almost immediately. Should he smile? Should he not? It might seem in poor taste.

Asking if she was all right was unnecessary; because she was not. He knew himself to be somewhat thick-headed, and even he had been able to notice that. But, well, how could he not?

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Snežana Knežević  - sorry it took so long! poor Snežana </3

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[attr="class","textknock"]horns of a deer,  feet of a tiger

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When Snežana realized who it was who had approached her, she relaxed a little. Minh was not one of her close friends, but she had seen him around frequently and knew who he was, at any rate. She had nothing against him, and as far as she knew he had nothing against her, but there was no reason to think that he might be here to speak to her.

She was about to let her thoughts swallow her again when the boy slid a chocolate frog towards her. That was curious. Snežana looked at the frog, and then at her classmate, and back at the frog, trying to summon enough energy to react properly.

((To be continued: pulling a Mandee because I have trouble with doing this on my phone))

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Tags: to be continued

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