[villefranche-sur-mer] much madness is divinest sense [basil]

You’ll be back in school in the fall and that’s all there is to it, I won’t have you mopping around the house making yourself upset over nothing. Her mother’s words resonated in her ears but Eleanora had not responded to her demands—she never did, the young witch had gotten out of the habit of talking to her parents, she didn’t even listen, she sort of simply existed and took in their words but barely processed them. But these words in particular were different; Eleanora could hear it in the tone of her mother’s voice, the mixture of frustration and concern that made people defensive. Eleanora wished she could sort of just turn it off, this heavy but somehow equally empty feeling in her chest that refused to be ignored.

At night, when things would become much too overwhelming she would sit there and think, replay everything that had happened in the previous year as a sort of comfort. See how far you’ve come her therapist would say in the sort of kind but encouraging way of a person being paid to say such things, in all honesty, rather than progress, Eleanora had felt a sort of retrogression every time she opened up about her experiences. It was as if all the feeling she had possessed in relation to a particularly traumatic event had been given the time to simmer, to grow, to somehow become worse and once she relived the experiences in her head, her emotions sort of spilled forth, threefold.

It was a good thing, she supposed, to remember and to cry. Not because it would heal her, no Eleanora had no desire to heal, in fact she wanted to never forget the atrocities of the war or how emotionally distressing the episode in the dome had been. She wanted to constantly remind herself because that very feeling, the heavy sort of emptiness in her chest, made her feel safe as it felt familiar. It was a stupid thing, she mused to herself, to feel comfort in sadness and it was among the many reasons she was hesitant to speak of her past with anyone. Just forget about it, it’s in the past, she had heard it enough to know that the very thought infuriated her.

How could anyone justify simply forgetting the past when one relied so heavily on that very past to become the people they were today? Eleanora knew that after the events at Hogwarts, no decent human being would be able to leave Hogwarts unscathed. They would wake up every day reflecting on their loses, lamenting their decisions, regretting, experiencing guilt, dismay, dejection, lamentation. The list was endless. Those who had somehow found the strength to remain positive would move forward, try their best, but would never forget.

But there was a difference between remembering and reentering the very environment that had managed to almost suck the very soul out of her and the thought of stepping into Hogwarts again frightened her. She did not want to return, did not see the need to go back to the very setting of the most upsetting episodes in her life. The Lovecraft family had access to tutors, she could simply finish her education at home, but her parents had been somehow convinced by the stupid therapist that it would be a good first step towards recovery and now, they were set on it. Idiot she scoffed, frowning slightly as she looked up at her mother, the woman’s mouth was still moving but she could not make a word. She closed her eyes tightly, sighing before standing up and walking to her room. She didn’t need this; she couldn’t deal with this at the very moment. This fight was not over. Eleanora would not return to that damned place.

And it was with that conviction that she left home, under the pretense that a few days away in the house of a relative would do her good, something to which her mother immediately agreed to. It was easy to convince her with a smile on her face, and such was an ironic thing considering that Eleanora rarely wore one these days. Even so, she packed her bag and left to France, and while she did stay in the house of a cousin, it was an empty one. Her cousin had gone away for the summer and had given the younger woman the key should she need time away from home with a boyfriend. Eleanora had spun a web of complicated untruths, ones she considered essential to avoid questions.

She opened the doors to the terrace, a gust of wind sweeping through her hair and she took a deep breath. It was so nice to be away from the usual, the monotonous. "You haven't anywhere urgent to run off to, do you?" she turned to Basil, whom she had owled immediately upon departing hoping that he would meet her there, even if just for the company. She needed to talk to somebody and for the better part of a year, Basil had serve the role of a sort of second therapist. Even if he were also a patient, he seemed to understand her better than the therapist himself. "I know the summon was sudden I just needed to get away and I didn't want to be alone--not thing time," her shoulders dropped as she took another deep breath. "My mum is forcing me to go back to Hogwarts in the fall. I can't go back there, B. I can't and I won't. So, I need to figure out how I'll avoid it over the next three months," she swallowed softly as the knot forming in her throat deprived her from air. "You went back after the dome, didn't you? How? Why?"

@Basil Stringfellow 

Things had been difficult for Basil in the past few months, a lot had been changing. He hadn’t seen Jimin in months, despite nothing really changing between them. Jimin had graduated over the summer, and had all but disappeared from the face of the earth. Basil took this as a sign, though. He didn’t go looking for him. Sometimes his heart ached, but he knew that it was for the best. Jimin had never been a good fit for him. He was a muggleborn, he was filth, and he was another guy to boot. There was no future for them, and it was better for him to move on. Moving on was easier said than done, though, especially as his time with his boss grew closer and closer to the end. Dieter Meer was an interesting sort, and Basil had learned a lot from him… but it was time for Basil to move on in the world, move up, and do something for himself.  He had applied to, and was accepted at, the Tamsen Tinker Academy for General Wizarding Law in London. He would be beginning that new journey in October, and in the meantime he had been working closely with Dieter to learn as much as he could in occlumency, legilimency, and everything else Dieter specialized in.
 
Even so, when Eleanora summoned him, he came quickly. Their relationship was unique in a way. He had never felt romantically for her, nor her for him. He had never even tried to come onto her, really, which was very abnormal for him. Instead, when they talked it was from a place of friendship and understanding, and not necessarily a place of wanting for anything the other had. Basil was used to playing chess with his words, always hunting for the winning play. There was always something at stake: pride, money, information, sex. There was always something worth fighting for, but with Ellie, words were just words. Perhaps it was because he met her at his therapist, and because she was a bit younger than him. He wanted to protect her from her demons. He wanted to be there for her, like a brother and a friend, and nothing more. If she was calling, it was because she needed him… and he wouldn’t dare disappoint.
 
As Ellie began talking, Basil listened. “No, no. I cleared my schedule.” He promised. “I know if you’re calling, you need me.” He didn’t mean for that to sound quite as badly as it came off, but it was too late to take it back. He continued listening. He could tell she didn’t want to be alone. She seemed nervous, stressed, and exhausted. He hated to see her struggle, and wanted to help in any way that he could. He furrowed his brows when she spoke. Why would they make her go back? Certainly the Lovecrafts could afford tutors, she could sit her N.E.W.T.s at the ministry like any homeschooled witch and turn out just as fine without the unnecessary trauma. It was more likely than not that her parents simply discounted how upset she really was, how much it hurt. They probably considered her therapy sessions to be flights of fancy, rather than actual work that they were. Therapy wasn’t easy, and often wasn’t fun either. It was hard emotional labor that sometimes made him feel drained. He knew it was the same for Ellie, since they had discussed that very same thing in the past. He felt angry on her behalf.
 
“Nothing…. Really happened to me during the dome.” He lied. It had been hard on him. Not the monsters, not the fire, just being trapped without his crutches, without the substances he had grown so used to depending on. “I just got ill for a while.” He left out the gritty details. “No one died that I knew… I never got hurt. It wasn’t as big od a deal to me as it is to you. I think it’s completely unfair that they force you to return when I know for a fact they could afford a tutor for you. They think they’re toughing you up by sending you back there, I think. I think they think your emotions make you weak, but that’s not true. You care. You were hurt, beyond their comprehension. You saw terrible things. You deserve some peace and freedom from that place.” He sighed.
 
“…I could help you, if you wanted to leave. I just recently got a place in the city with a fold-out couch you could sleep on.” He suggested, though it wasn’t really a solution. “Maybe you could participate in a transfer program, maybe go to Beauxbatons for your final year? I bet if you got accepted your parents would let you go. They would be stupid to deny you a chance to experience life abroad.” He personally didn’t think Beauxbatons was quite as good of a school as Hogwarts, but it beat her having to go back. “But you’re seventeen now, yes? You don’t have to do what they tell you anymore. You could leave on your own at any time, and I’ll be there to catch you.”