Revelations (Delia)

Guest

It was a beautifully perfect day. The trees were just coming out of hibernation, growing new leaves and buds. The sun was out but not burning very hotly, leaving a slight chill in the air. It was the perfect picture to paint. But Elleon could not paint it.

The easel stood a few feet from the shore of the Lake, the blank canvas staring at the palette in his hand as if mocking him. Painting - creating anyting, really - had always been a form of escape for him. If he needed a break from life or needed to express an emotion he could not put into words, he'd always fall back on art. Art was his voice in a world of silence. But for once in his life, art failed him.

He slumped to the ground, letting the palette rest by the foot of the easel. He closed his eyes, running both hands through his hair as he inhaled and exhaled deeply. It had been almost two days since he'd gotten back from an emergency leave. All his parents told him then was that it was a family emergency. He'd rushed back, thinking that someone was severely injured or sick or dying. Instead, he was confronted with some other news entirely.

There, sitting in the living room was a woman he'd never seen before, a woman, he was told, who was his birth mother. Elleon wasn't stupid. He had figured out he was adopted; being the same age as Jelena and yet not her twin meant that he had to be adopted. He had flashing memories of some other life and some other faces but they were too quick and too vague for him to work any of it out. He hadn't brought it up or questioned it because Dad and Mum and Jelena was his family, no matter what happened when he was born.

The whole story was laid out for him with Dad interpreting whatever the woman, Sophia, said. It was a long history but none of it really surprised him until they got to the part where he was a Pureblood. His first reaction was shock and disbelief followed by uncontrollable laughter as he thought back to the conversations he'd had with Delia.

Sitting down on grass that was just beginning to grow, Elleon had no idea what to sort out first, him being a Pureblood or that fact that once again, his Deafness had altered his life. He'd experienced ridicule, mocking, and bullying as a Deaf person. It was all natural to him. But rejection from a family cut a lot deeper. He knew his real family, the parents who had loved and brought him up and the sister who loved him as equally, but he also could not deny the fact that had he not been Deaf, his birth dad would've never casted him out. Reason told him that a man like that wasn't worth anything, but the rejection was a hard pill to swallow it hurt more than anything else.

He was not yet ready to face that, but the former, he could do. Taking out his phone, he sent Delia a text, saying nothing but to meet him at the Lake.

Guest

Money had never been an issue for Delia, not with pocket money coming in from both her parents. It wasn't difficult to tell the other that the amount gotten was little, thus increasing the total amount she got; it wasn't as though they ever communicated, and her lies would go without notice, giving her ample money to spend. She had, therefore, invested some of it without a second thought into intensive BSL classes that took place both online and in the real world. Each day she found a private spot, logged on, and spent at least two hours learning and participating in the online classes.

A further three hours each week was devoted to meeting up with the private tutor (who was also Deaf) in Hogsmeade, although she told nobody. Why bother? There was, after all, no point. She'd waited until she was at least able to hold a decent conversation -- three and a half months after the classes start -- before telling (or rather, showing) Elleon.

She was still learning, six months after she started, and she had a long, long way to go -- but with the lessons being intensive and with Elleon to help, alongside the tutor, she was picking it up quite fast. She had, after all, always been a quick learner.

March had come round quickly, not that she minded. Christmas, while fun, was a memory she wanted to leave behind. Not Tess, not Jesse (nor the lemon), nor Matteo. That had been fun, and that had been worth it; she still wanted to go back to Capri someday. It was... No, she refused to allow herself to remember -- to feel.

She was sitting in her common room, flipping idly through a book she was meant to be reading for a class, when her phone buzzed. Grabbing it, Delia glanced at the screen and frowned at the name and the message. 'Meet me at the Lake' was not necessarily something worrying, if not for the person who had sent it. When did Elleon ever send a text without an explanation? When did he ever ask to meet up like that without saying why or what he wanted?

Immediately tossing the book aside, Delia grabbed a thin jacket for protection against the wind (as well as to cover up the probably indecent shirt she was wearing) and headed up to her room. There was only one thing she knew would and could help, and she grabbed her purse that she always kept at the bottom of her trunk. The walk to the lake was quick, with her not bothering to take in the views, instead focusing on speed. She caught sight of the easel and frowned. There was no painting on it, no starting of blue or greens, no streaks of colours... Something wasn't quite right.

"What's wrong?" she asked, immediately, moving to sit beside him, placing her purse down beside her. Its content would be for later.

» A Ball to Remember (Delia)
» Questions and Answers (Delia)
» The Secrets of the Night [Delia]
» Way Above the Rooftops (Delia - TW Swearing)
» Wrong Number (Delia)