VERY IMPORTANTE EMILY PLOT...read!
(ooc: Reference: http://neversecond.livejournal.com/15803.html
Also check my memories under “silver bottle” :) )
Emily stared at the swirling basin for a moment, squinting her eyes at the red-haired woman. The woman seemed to get a little clearer, but Emily was too anxious to wait for her to fully appear. She was practically shaking with anticipation; the fact that she was so close to figuring out what her mother had been trying to find out from her was exhilarating. Emily put her face so it was almost touching the silvery memory. She wasn’t exactly sure how she was supposed to see anything when it was so foggy. Was she just supposed to wait for the memory to appear, or did she need to look closer?
As if the Penseive could sense her thoughts, the memory cleared even further until she could see another woman, holding a man’s hand. It looked as though Emily were looking down in a little room, observing what was happening with miniature people inside Hermione’s Penseive. The woman had blonde hair and brilliantly blue eyes, and with a slight shock she realized it was a younger version of her mother. Her mother looked almost unrecognizable. She had the same blonde hair and the same general appearance as she did now, but her eyes were bright and shone with an excitement and youth that Emily had never seen in them before. Her smile was genuine and her skin glowed with a sort of unreal beauty. She was breathtaking, and Emily couldn’t help but stare in amazement at this vision of her mother. It was definitely her, and yet…it wasn’t. She didn’t have the tired eyes and dull face that Emily knew so well, her youth worn away by years of grief.
The man that held her hand so lovingly was just as familiar. He had a laughing smile and eyes that were such a rich chocolate brown that they reminded Emily of truffles in a candy box. He was definitely familiar, and Emily’s heart lurched as she realized it was her father. She had to look closer…now that she had seen her father, she needed to see more. Emily’s heart raced, and she put her face even closer. The tip of her nose touched the surface of the Penseive delicately.
Suddenly Emily was being thrown headfirst into the basin. She was being hurtled through a freezing black hole that sucked her ever deeper. She wanted to scream, but it seemed as though no sound could pierce the darkness. After a few endless seconds, she was suddenly standing right next to her mother and father.
Emily’s heart stopped as she looked upon the younger versions of her parents, who seemed to have no idea that she was there. Her mother…she looked so happy and so young, nothing like the mother she knew now. Her mother now was teary and worn away, as though she were a once beautiful painting that had faded considerably. And her father…oh, how she missed her father! Emily’s eyes filled with tears as she looked upon her father. She wanted to embrace him, but she knew it was only a memory, and this version of herself was not tangible. She was only here to watch.
”Mr. and Mrs. Rowe, this is Emily,” The redhead woman said with a smile. Emily jumped a little, startled. Could they really see her? She looked at her parents, but they were focused on a little girl that was holding the redhead’s hand. She was small and looked only a few years old. She had thin, dark hair that came down to her chin, the beginnings of what was sure to be a thick mane of hair in a few years. Her eyes were wide and stunningly hazel, and they were framed by dark, delicate lashes.
That’s me, Emily realized with a shock. She had seen enough baby pictures to recognize herself, and her eyes looked exactly the same. That’s me. That’s me. What am I doing here?
“She’s beautiful,” Emily’s mother said softly. Mr. Rowe squeezed his wife’s hand.
“Ever since the miscarriage, I was so afraid of having another child. I couldn’t go through that again,” Mrs. Rowe said softly, as though talking to herself. “Wesley always wanted a little sister or brother…I remember his face when he found out that his little sister wasn’t coming.”
There was a moment of silence. Mrs. Rowe closed her eyes, remembering. After a moment, she kneeled down next to the younger Emily.
“Hello, Emily,” She said with a smile to the child. The younger Emily responded with a wide smile and a little giggle. Mrs. Rowe laughed.
“She’s beautiful…absolutely beautiful.” Mrs. Rowe said, still looking at the younger Emily with a smile. “What were her parents like?”
My parents? Emily thought frantically. What did this all mean? What was going on? She looked around and realized she had been in an office. It was large and made of dark wood, and the desk was flooded with papers. Above the desk was a sign that read ”Whitehall Adoption Agency.”
Emily’s heart stopped.
“Her mother was a painter, a very talented one, but very poor,” The redhead woman explained. “She had a boyfriend who was unemployed. They had Emily, and afterwards they went to extremes to get enough money. They got involved in the drug business, and it was soon clear that they couldn’t support a child. So one day the mother showed up at our doorstep with tears in her eyes, shaking like a leaf. She said she knew she had to give Emily up to a family that could raise her well.” The woman paused, reflecting.
“And she’s been a blessing, a pure blessing. Every day I can count on coming in and seeing her little smile.” The woman smiled down at the child. “I think she’ll be perfect for you. Would you like to take a look at the adoption papers?”
(ooc: kind of abrupt ending, but I have to go now, and I really, really wanted to get this posted. Please comment, even though this is kind of a first draft thing and not all that smooth. :-D)
Also check my memories under “silver bottle” :) )
Emily stared at the swirling basin for a moment, squinting her eyes at the red-haired woman. The woman seemed to get a little clearer, but Emily was too anxious to wait for her to fully appear. She was practically shaking with anticipation; the fact that she was so close to figuring out what her mother had been trying to find out from her was exhilarating. Emily put her face so it was almost touching the silvery memory. She wasn’t exactly sure how she was supposed to see anything when it was so foggy. Was she just supposed to wait for the memory to appear, or did she need to look closer?
As if the Penseive could sense her thoughts, the memory cleared even further until she could see another woman, holding a man’s hand. It looked as though Emily were looking down in a little room, observing what was happening with miniature people inside Hermione’s Penseive. The woman had blonde hair and brilliantly blue eyes, and with a slight shock she realized it was a younger version of her mother. Her mother looked almost unrecognizable. She had the same blonde hair and the same general appearance as she did now, but her eyes were bright and shone with an excitement and youth that Emily had never seen in them before. Her smile was genuine and her skin glowed with a sort of unreal beauty. She was breathtaking, and Emily couldn’t help but stare in amazement at this vision of her mother. It was definitely her, and yet…it wasn’t. She didn’t have the tired eyes and dull face that Emily knew so well, her youth worn away by years of grief.
The man that held her hand so lovingly was just as familiar. He had a laughing smile and eyes that were such a rich chocolate brown that they reminded Emily of truffles in a candy box. He was definitely familiar, and Emily’s heart lurched as she realized it was her father. She had to look closer…now that she had seen her father, she needed to see more. Emily’s heart raced, and she put her face even closer. The tip of her nose touched the surface of the Penseive delicately.
Suddenly Emily was being thrown headfirst into the basin. She was being hurtled through a freezing black hole that sucked her ever deeper. She wanted to scream, but it seemed as though no sound could pierce the darkness. After a few endless seconds, she was suddenly standing right next to her mother and father.
Emily’s heart stopped as she looked upon the younger versions of her parents, who seemed to have no idea that she was there. Her mother…she looked so happy and so young, nothing like the mother she knew now. Her mother now was teary and worn away, as though she were a once beautiful painting that had faded considerably. And her father…oh, how she missed her father! Emily’s eyes filled with tears as she looked upon her father. She wanted to embrace him, but she knew it was only a memory, and this version of herself was not tangible. She was only here to watch.
”Mr. and Mrs. Rowe, this is Emily,” The redhead woman said with a smile. Emily jumped a little, startled. Could they really see her? She looked at her parents, but they were focused on a little girl that was holding the redhead’s hand. She was small and looked only a few years old. She had thin, dark hair that came down to her chin, the beginnings of what was sure to be a thick mane of hair in a few years. Her eyes were wide and stunningly hazel, and they were framed by dark, delicate lashes.
That’s me, Emily realized with a shock. She had seen enough baby pictures to recognize herself, and her eyes looked exactly the same. That’s me. That’s me. What am I doing here?
“She’s beautiful,” Emily’s mother said softly. Mr. Rowe squeezed his wife’s hand.
“Ever since the miscarriage, I was so afraid of having another child. I couldn’t go through that again,” Mrs. Rowe said softly, as though talking to herself. “Wesley always wanted a little sister or brother…I remember his face when he found out that his little sister wasn’t coming.”
There was a moment of silence. Mrs. Rowe closed her eyes, remembering. After a moment, she kneeled down next to the younger Emily.
“Hello, Emily,” She said with a smile to the child. The younger Emily responded with a wide smile and a little giggle. Mrs. Rowe laughed.
“She’s beautiful…absolutely beautiful.” Mrs. Rowe said, still looking at the younger Emily with a smile. “What were her parents like?”
My parents? Emily thought frantically. What did this all mean? What was going on? She looked around and realized she had been in an office. It was large and made of dark wood, and the desk was flooded with papers. Above the desk was a sign that read ”Whitehall Adoption Agency.”
Emily’s heart stopped.
“Her mother was a painter, a very talented one, but very poor,” The redhead woman explained. “She had a boyfriend who was unemployed. They had Emily, and afterwards they went to extremes to get enough money. They got involved in the drug business, and it was soon clear that they couldn’t support a child. So one day the mother showed up at our doorstep with tears in her eyes, shaking like a leaf. She said she knew she had to give Emily up to a family that could raise her well.” The woman paused, reflecting.
“And she’s been a blessing, a pure blessing. Every day I can count on coming in and seeing her little smile.” The woman smiled down at the child. “I think she’ll be perfect for you. Would you like to take a look at the adoption papers?”
(ooc: kind of abrupt ending, but I have to go now, and I really, really wanted to get this posted. Please comment, even though this is kind of a first draft thing and not all that smooth. :-D)