Who's seen Jezebel?
She was born to be the woman I would know...
And hold like the breeze-
Half as tight as both eyes closed.
And who's seen Jezebel?
She went walking where the cedars line the road.
ILLISA
LINDSAY
HARGRAVE
FORMER GRYFFINDOR │ SINGLE MOTHER │ HALFBLOOD
Illisa hadn't really bothered with a bag, because she knew they were going to search her when she entered the prison, and probably again before she went into the visiting room. She was right, on both accounts, and thus stood there, somehow slightly smug, despite the circumstances, before the guard, who looked fresh out of Hogwarts, and also completely dead to the world, which she supposed made sense, given the fact that Azkaban somehow managed to still be extremely unnerving, even without the dementors. Personally, she blamed the architecture. A triangular shaped fortress on a rock in the middle of the sea sounded like something out of a Bond film. She didn't bother taking off her jacket. There was still a slightly damp chill to the air, and the interior of the visiting room, while slightly warmer, was not much better. She sat, slouched like a teenager in detention once again, until she heard the slightly ominous rattle of chains, and straightened up almost guiltily, as if the headmaster were entering.
It was not the headmaster, she was not at Hogwarts, in trouble for some ridiculous prank or a fight, and there really wasn't anything for her to be guilty about. Lisa had not seen Faron since the trial. At the trial, he had been neatly dressed and clean-shaven, and very, very young looking. The only give-away had been his eyes, which had adopted the look of a martyr shortly before being thrown to the lions. Feeding into her brother-in-law's complex (and he likely had many of them), was not something she had any interest in doing. He had, after all, helped brutally murdered five people. To some small sense of satisfaction, she observed, as Faron was led in like a child, that prison had not treated him well. He'd always been slender, and now bordered on gaunt. His eyes were slightly sunken in his head. His hair brushed his shoulders. And to something like her amusement, he still couldn't manage to grow a proper beard. "Merry Christmas," she told him.
Lisa had not thought she would be able to look at him, never mind speak to him. She'd barely been able to listen to him, at the trial. Granted, she'd not been in the best state herself, at the time, what with the considerable scarring and the maiming and the sleeping potions and the physical therapy. But she had considered this for some time, and had come to the conclusion that this would play out a certain way: she would defiantly stare him down, declare that he and his pathetic sack of s**t father had not been able to break her, he would break down under the intensity of her righteous fury, and she would walk off, hips swaying, theme music playing, cell door slamming behind her. It had all been very cinematic, in her head. Instead she found herself treating this as an awkward first date, or study session with a friend you didn't particularly want to be around, outside of class.
Faron was silent. He was not looking at her, or the table between them, or anything in particular, really. He simply sat there, like a statue. A sad little Roman who needed a shave. "Or was it Yuletide, 'at yer family celebrated? Ah know yer mam was religious." He quirked an unexpected half-smile at that. Faron had always been a bit tentative with expression emotions beyond stoicness and/or haughty pride, which she supposed was a result of his upbringing. Nat had always been a bit more open, but only after a good long while. Slow to smile, slow to snap. It'd infuriated her, at times, that she couldn't rile him up, that he'd rather let her explode, then wait around, patiently, for a begrudging apology. For the black sheep Ravenclaw of the family, he'd known how to play it like a Slytherin. Faron had never struck her as particularly snake-like, though. He was a timid teen, an anxious young man. Twitchy, at times. She chalked it up to the incest. Nat had had his erratic moments as well, and she'd almost been fond of them, even as they worried her. At least he was human when he was in a panic. At least he was the needy one, then.
"I always liked your sense of humor," Faron said. His voice was slightly deeper, slightly huskier. He sounded more adult than she remembered. Or maybe he just had a cold, from the draft. "You were good for my brother in that sense. He was always very serious."
"Weel," Lisa said, "Considerin' the environment he was raised in, someone 'ad tae crack a few jokes tae break 'at mask." They regarded each other for another few moments. Faron shifted slightly, and his chained wrists rattled. "Ah'm surprised ye don't get more privileges," Lisa commented. "Good behavior an' all."
"Was there something you wanted to discuss?" He sounded like her therapist. Or perhaps she was just projecting.
"Ah thought ah was gonna... ah 'ought it would be different," she said. "It's not. Un'erstan' 'at ah 'ate ye, an' all, but ah can't 'think of anythin' tae say 'at would make me feel any better. Sae ah'm jist gonna sit 'ere until ah dae."
He nodded. "It would probably have been kinder for everyone if they had just killed me."
Lisa laughed, at that, because there was nothing else she could do, because she could see it on his face, that he didn't regret any of it, and likely never would, because some lies ran too deep. "Right. Ah couldn't agree mair. But we don't live in a kind world, dae we?" She figured, if this was really some sort of divine punishment, the worst hell for him was probably to be alive, right at this very moment, with her sitting across from him, very much alive, proof of how horribly he'd failed the old man. After all, if they hadn't taken her wand she'd be trying her best to kill him right now, and the same could likely be said for him.
Who's seen Jezebel?
She was born to be the woman we could blame...
Make me a beast half as brave; I'd be the same.
And who's seen Jezebel?
She was certainly the spark for all I've done-
She could see the dogs come running.
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