log; ongoing

[dazzlepuff.livejournal.com]

When; The night of Sunday, September 6th.
Rating; G-PG? Mentions of death, etc~
Characters; Cedric Diggory (dazzlepuff) & Luna Lovegood (suncolors)
Summary; Cedric arrives, freshly dead and very confused. Luna tries to help but possibly ends up confusing him even more. I am bad at summaries, okay. (Post to be updated with each following tag until finished, then it will be labeled as such.)
Log;

CEDRIC →

What Cedric should have hit was cold and damp ground under a thick layer of fog. The landscape should have illustrated the obvious victory of weeds and moss over cracked tombstones and the asphyxiating grass beneath. He knew this from the brief moments before, when he and Harry had scanned their parlous surroundings in search of any familiar faces or structures. He knew from the way his shoes sank slowly with each step and the dirt was wet, almost muddy. He knew that even through the thick layers of his tournament attire it was still chilly and that it wasn't at all due to the weather. He knew that something was wrong even before those suspicions were evinced.

What Cedric should have felt was nothing, and that is where the puzzlement begina. Never in his life had he truly considered death, much less how that death would play out, but to say this had been unexpected would be a tremendous understatement. Death had never been a worry; in fact, at seventeen he had yet to truly consider death as an inevitability. It was so far in the future that it hardly seemed a pressing matter. But that spell left no room for doubt. He knew upon hearing those two unforgiving words what was coming. This, however, is not it at all.

What Cedric feels is his cheek scraping against the hard stone ground that should not be there, which is almost as baffling as the fact that he can feel it, when he most certainly should not. What he sees as he pulls himself up is no cemetery, it's not even close. A town square like none he has ever seen before, surrounding a monumental fountain and surrounded by a city he has never before visited. Cedric stands, confusion and apprehension painted across his face as he scans an alien terrain for the second time that night.

LUNA →

Luna Lovegood keeps to herself a fair amount of the time, not particularly inclined or disinclined to spending time with people but not the type to constantly seek either the companionship or the solitude. She cares a great deal about the friends she does have, and the tension in the space where they all live has not escaped her, but it is no more her tendency to try to fix it than it is to cause it in the first place. Given over to uncomfortable truths, she would not hesitate to tell anyone who asked if she sees that things are not as right as they should be, that she does, yes, and very much so, but she would follow that up with the confession that it isn't so much up to
her.

People are stubborn sorts and change happens when they decide it, as individuals, and not before--real change, true change.

Padding through the square which is not as populated at this hour of the night, she has a mild hum beneath her thoughts with an even milder tune to it, hands clasped lightly in front of her and wrists crossing, flower basket hanging from those with a slight swing that results from
each footstep. In said flower basket there are indeed flowers, but there are also stray buttons and corks and bottle caps, among other things--odds and ends that make sense to her, because everything in the world means something. It's just a matter of figuring out what, or, on the contrary, simply waiting one's time out long enough to understand and accept that some things can't be figured out at all.

Take for instance the young man whose face she knows from papers and not-finished history books.

It is, she will always think, very sad that people are often only remembered because they die too young.

"Cedric Diggory," she greets unceremoniously, that dreaming quality to her voice that often makes people think she is only half there, when it is quite the opposite that is the truth. Waiting for him to notice who addresses his person, she tilts a blond head, peering at him, sections of corn tassel yellow strands falling over her shoulder. Watchful, she can thread ways and words around him like a story, but it is altogether unnecessary with the story maker right before her, so she contents herself to keep with the wait a while longer.

CEDRIC →

Cedric does not recognize her right away, and there are two reasons for this: one more honorable than the other. The more innocent of the two stems from the fact that he can't exactly be blamed for his current state of disorientation. Had it been Cho or his own father approaching him, they still would have been met with befuddlement and hesitation. There are too many questions flying back and forth in his head, a frenzy of electrical impulses and frantic nerve receptors inching closer and closer to total overdrive. Where am I? What happened? My parents... Did Harry –– ? The questions spin around and around in search of answers or clues, taking on lives of their own because Cedric is much too overwhelmed to address each and every one. Thinking has become a chore at this point and Cedric has to wonder whether he imagined it all – Krum, the maze, the portkey, the harsh cry of that Unforgivable Curse. Perhaps he's still competing, and this yet another level of the tournament. This is, in fact, the most challenging experience he has been faced with since the start of this tournament.

That theory is shot with two morbid realizations: the first is that he feels colder than he did before, even in that dreadful cemetery. The second is that his heart is not beating. Hogwarts may not offer your typical course in Biology but Cedric knows enough to be startled by this. How can he possibly be alive without a heartbeat?

The second reason he doesn't recognize Luna is simple: he never noticed her. Cedric was years ahead of her class and they came from different Houses. He had no incentive to spend time with Third Years, much less those who weren't in Hufflepuff. After a very long period, it dawns on Cedric, but quite slowly. The raddish earrings are to blame: he may not recall her by name, but he remembers paying special attention to a very peculiar girl with a very peculiar pair of earrings. It's comforting, at the very least, to be amongst a fellow Hogwarts student, and that small hint of familiarity is more than enough given the situation.

He nods at the mention of his name and runs one hand through his hair, speaking only once it has (flawlessly) fallen back into place. "Right." Another hand goes up and, once again, this display buys him some time. "Ravenclaw, yes? I'm afraid I don't know your name."

LUNA →

Death wears itself cleanly on Cedric, and this has nothing to do with his physical appearance, not to Luna at any rate who certainly observes but rarely digests the aesthetics of verve or lack thereof.

"Luna," she smiles a half-smile at him. "Luna Lovegood." The standard 'welcome to the city' has never been her choice greeting, so she doesn't bother, instead shifting weight from her heels to the balls of her feet, leaning toward him a little as one leans toward a mystery. Two patient moments later she offers her hand. "I'm glad I get to meet you after all."

It is a softer confirmation that he is as he dreads, but not necessarily kind, for who can call the premature close of a life kind? Luna wouldn't, couldn't...so she doesn't, all pervasive and yet considerate at the same time, a dreamer who is always awake and knows what she sees when she sees it. That her strength lies in the very thing he proves--not being noticed overly--is also true, and she takes that in stride, having learned just how much one can glean from being the one on the outside of the window after all.

How different, she supposes but does not imagine, for someone like Cedric, and it isn't lost on her that this won't be easy for him any more than it isn't lost on her that, from what she has heard, from
what she still hears back home, Cedric Diggory probably doesn't want to burden anyone with the difficulties. That doesn't mean they aren't there though, or won't be, and all this she files away, as is her way with people. It isn't book smarts and it isn't the precise brand of wisdom Ravenclaw is more often associated with, but it is her own and she knows its methods and non-methods well enough to let them run their course.

Cedric Diggory.

She wonders, fleetingly, how Harry will feel about his arrival.

CEDRIC →

Lovegood. That's it.

"Ottery St. Catchpole?" Their fathers must be acquainted – there are only so many wizard families in the area and Cedric is certain he's heard the name before. Again, the familiarity helps, albeit very slightly. "After all," he repeats. There's no surprise in his voice. "That settles it, then, doesn't it? I really..." I really... The word catches in his throat, bitter and acerbic. He might as well say it, now that it's certain. "I really died."

He has his answer; there are many more questions, but none seem as urgent or crucial in comparison.

That's a lie. Equally as important as his fate is that of his parents. He can only imagine their devastation, and the reality, he knows, will be far worse than anything he could conceive. What will his father do without a son to dote on? All his hopes and dreams for Cedric's future, now made impossible. How will his mother cope in an empty house, without the weekly letters of assurance, reminders that her son is safe at school? And Cho – how will she handle his death? He knows there is nothing he can do to ease his parents' suffering, but Cedric hopes that Cho won't be as shattered as he expects. She still has a promising life ahead, and he doesn't want to be the weight that drags her down and keeps her from what she deserves.

He wonders if Luna Lovegood can offer any more answers, but where can he start? Would she know of his parents? Perhaps she heard something in passing, from her father. Maybe she remembers Hogwarts in the aftermath. It may be wishful thinking, but he doesn't have much else, and he knows she was alive when he died.

"You wouldn't happen to know..." Know what? It isn't easy to mold a question that she can concievably answer when he knows so little about her. He starts again: "You wouldn't happen to know what happened, would you? I mean, after I...died."

LUNA →

Sometimes the only place to start is at the end.

"It's not in vain, you know," she pats his upper arm awkwardly because reaching his shoulder isn't quite as easy, and Luna has a tendency to be uncomfortably blunt both in regards to personal space and choice of words, at times. "...anyway," she doesn't bother to elaborate on 'what' is not in vain, because a simple truth is sometimes best left just as that rather than a deconstructed explanation of itself. His death was not in vain, not without its own purpose however unintended by anyone but Voldemort himself. Any good person like Cedric serves his friends even after death, and that is something Luna knows the dark lord would never understand. The people who do retain some sense of humanity, and a person need not meet the ghost of a man, once a boy named Tom, to know he lacks that, has lacked it for a very, very long time indeed. Even in this state, his clothes cold with the cold of his body when she offers him that awkward gesture of reassurance, something about Cedric remains alight.

Eyes averting, the pale girl mentally sends whispers to the people who love him--even as they stand here now.

"...I know some things, but maybe you would prefer someone else to explain?" she half asks and half suggests, a quiet smile there, a serenity one can almost reach out and sense with fingertips. There are the others, after all, she thinks, but her mind is still on Harry. Is it a disservice to her friend with the eyes of his mother to presume he would not mind? She always hopes not, even when hoping does not change her tendency to act on whims, but one could argue all of Luna's way is about the whim rather than the well laid plan.

CEDRIC →

While it may be true that the vague can sometimes provide for the best paths of explanation, Cedric does not – can not – see it this way. It has been quite the rare occasion that has found Cedric Diggory at a loss for the right words or the best course of action, or even, sometimes, the answers to most questions. He has always been a well-rounded student, one who performs well and excels in the face of challenge. One who can handle nearly anything that is thrown his way. This, he supposes, is the great exception. Why wasn't it in vain? What could possibly justify his death? Who killed him and why? Was it – ? But that isn't a thought he allows himself to entertain. The Quidditch World Cup was an isolated incident; it meant nothing. It's foolish to consider, he tells himself, although he must acknowledge that something in that cemetery felt monumentally wrong.

Yes, he wants to know, and he doesn't appreciate the ambiguous answer, although he won't voice this aloud. He does appreciate Luna's presence, despite the growing evidence that she may be even more...offbeat than he could have expected. He can tell that she means well, and that happens to mean a great deal when someone has just been murdered.

"Who else is there?" He inquires rather hesitantly. Was that meant to suggest there are others from Hogwarts? Those he may know more intimately? He desperately hopes that's not the case. As much as he would love to see his friends and family, the thought of someone he holds dear having died as well is not a welcome thought at all.