Mon Frere [is Gone], Charles, or open. It'll be fun.

[Vanessa Bennett]

“Ralentir!” Vanessa Bennett shouted, as she tore through the fields after her brother. She was only seven, pleading with her eight year old brother to slow down. He moved too fast for her petite little frame- he was long and lanky, even for an eight year old. He didn’t stifle his pace. “Ne pas me partir derrière!” She was scared, and didn’t want to be left behind.

“Vous devez apprendre!” He shouted that she had to learn. She had to learn to run for her life.

The rain started then; it came pouring down and instead of continuing to run, she collapsed to the ground, muddy- running her best dress- and crying. Terrified. Rain storms were no fun when you were only seven.

“Revenir!” She pleaded with him to come back. But why would he. He wouldn’t slow down, surely he wasn’t going to come back for his bothersome, slower little sister. But he was running back to her and he slid in the mud but he managed to stay on his feet and pull her up.

“ Nous sommes presque à la maison.” And he dragged her long, as she skipped to keep up the pace. “Mais, vous devez apprendre…” But she would have to learn.

She would have to learn to run if her life depended on it.

Vanessa, my darling.
This post is hard enough to write without having to tell you that I am to blame. It was my choice to send Aramis to America, to get him away from this country. I did it to protect him, not realizing that I wasn’t able to do that. Vanessa…Aramis is dead. He was found in his apartment, by his landlord. He said there was no sign of a break in. But also nothing to point out why or how this happened. We’re having his body floo-ed back home. We’re going to bury him in your grandfather’s meadow; due to much legal matter with the Americans, the burial and services will take place in two weeks. Daddy will come to get you then if you reply back with your address. Please, Vanessa. This isn’t for me or for your father. This is for your brother. You know he loved you more then he could’ve ever loved anyone else. Love from, Mummy.


Vanessa, among other things, was furious. Furious he hadn’t ran, furious that Aramis always spent his life looking out for her. Never looking out for himself. He never cared what kind of consequences he would suffer. She was furious that she hadn’t seen him in more then a year…and she was furious that she let herself forget. Forget that evil was out there. That just because her and Charlie were finally together…it didn’t mean the world was right. She began to scream, violently, shockingly- like someone was ripping the heart from her chest. But she couldn’t stop. She couldn’t stop running around her small apartment, ripping things down, breaking lamps. She was going to destroy everything at this rate.

Why would anyone kill him, the poor innocent little kid? There was only one person who came to mind. Could he really be that evil? Could he really be that real?

Could he really still be around? She had hoped, no, believed- that he had just melted away; dissolved in the air. But that couldn’t be true. He was the only one with a grudge with Aramis. But was he really…that evil?

She collapsed down onto the ground, her elbows hitting the wood and she howled in pain, but not from that. She curled herself into the smallest ball possible, repeatedly screaming his name. Aramis, Aramis!

“Mon frere! Il ne peut pas être! Il ne peut pas être!” My brother, it cannot be.

And though she never said it, it was all she could think; despite what her delirious tongue spit out instead.

Je souhaite que j'étais mort. I wish that I was dead.

[Charlie Freeman]

((I dont know where we're meant to be, hahaha, but Im gonna post anyoe, simply because I think its a splendid topic :) ))

A molten bolt of fear shot through Charlie, from his head to his stomach making him feel ill, and he threw himself forward, almost loosing his blance in his urgency to reach Vanessa where she huddled herself, sobbing, crying out in French...Merlin he needed to learn French.

He would have to. How else would he be able to understand Ness when she was upset?

He enveloped her in his arms, and pulled her to him, holding her head against his chest and not letting her move, not allowing for anything except for her tears and his comfort, and a terrble stream of French words and unknowable pain.

"Vanessa..."

Charlie didn't know what to say. He couldn't ask what was wrong, he couldn't bring himself to upset her any more. All he could do was hold her, and hope that whatever it was, they would get through it.

[Vanessa Bennett]

[I was aiming to go for Holly Golightly's breakdown when Fred dies. xD And she's at the room she bought at the Leaky Cauldron after Christmas.]

As Charlie found her and wrenched her close, though she probably should have calmed down- took a deep breath- she found she couldn't and each word she said was interrupted by a sob every time she talked, so instead she kept to very short and basic English words.

"Aramis. Murdered." Was as much as she could muster, in between the bone-shattering tears and her quivering. Oh god, she hated this. She hated feeling so broken, so ripped apart. Even Charlie's arms around her weren't enough to silence her panic. It rang out everywhere.

Aramis. Murdered. There was only one real explanation. Merlin did not ever want her to be happy and at peace with her life. She buried in face farther into Charlie's shoulder and clung to him for dear life.

[Charlie Freeman]

((ooooooooo i knew it reminded me of something, hehehe))

Charlie tightened his grip on Vanessa, holding her head to him, wanting her to stop but knowing that she wouldn't, and that she shouldn't. It was a selfish wish.

Her brother. Murdered. When you hear shocking news your mind jumps about like crazy. He was stabbed with the thought that he had never had the privledge of meeting the man who meant so much to Vanessa. He was racked with fear about the fact that he knew exactly who had done this, and why. He was relieved for a moment, because didn't that mean that Stephen was out of England? Then he was filled with guilt for feeling relief over anything that resembled fear and anger and hurt and concern for the girl he was holding whose body felt it could snap from the sobs that wracked it.