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Dec. 31st, 2017 09:03 pmJanuary 1st, 2018:
Part of Melanie is sad to miss the New Year's festivities. But she's seen the tree lighting ceremony, and doesn't really think she'll be missing too much. Besides, she doesn't want Newt or James to have to bespell her just so the crowds won't get too overwhelming.
That it's cold makes a difference, too. She doesn't really feel it, but when it gets very cold, like it is now, she's noticed that she starts to slow down a little. She isn't sure what hungries do in regions where it gets this cold, but she knows if anyone saw her slowing down too much, they'd just fret and bring her back inside, anyway.
It's not as if she doesn't like spending time in the Nook. The holiday decorations are still up, and they still look marvelous. She's perfectly happy to just snuggle up with a pile of books.
The books are so absorbing that she completely forgets to mark the official passing of the year. She doesn't watch the clock, she doesn't count down. But midnight still ends up being impossible to miss, because everything changes, all in a rush.
It feels a little like magic, the way her senses are suddenly muted. It's not that she can't smell, or hear, just that she can't smell or hear as much as before. She has to take a few deep breaths just to confirm that she can still smell anything at all, but the sharp pine scent of the tree is still there, and the lingering smells from Newt and James's dinner. To her considerable surprise, those scents, though faint, are more tempting than they've ever been before.
Melanie gets to her feet, frowning as she does so. She feels... heavy. Or heavier, anyway. She shifts her weight experimentally, then takes a few slow steps towards the kitchen. Her body still seems to be working like it should, but it also feels different in myriad ways she finds difficult to place. It isn't until she sets her hand on her own belly, patting herself as if to make sure she's all there, that she realizes she feels warm. Not safe-inside warm, but warmer-than-the-room warm.
She starts to get an inkling, then, of what this might mean, but it's so hard to believe that she shakes her head in automatic denial. Even Newt and James, with all their magic, can't fix her. They can make a broom fly, but they can't make her what she's not.
She's still standing there, bewildered, when someone finally walks into the room. "I think something's wrong with me," she says.
Part of Melanie is sad to miss the New Year's festivities. But she's seen the tree lighting ceremony, and doesn't really think she'll be missing too much. Besides, she doesn't want Newt or James to have to bespell her just so the crowds won't get too overwhelming.
That it's cold makes a difference, too. She doesn't really feel it, but when it gets very cold, like it is now, she's noticed that she starts to slow down a little. She isn't sure what hungries do in regions where it gets this cold, but she knows if anyone saw her slowing down too much, they'd just fret and bring her back inside, anyway.
It's not as if she doesn't like spending time in the Nook. The holiday decorations are still up, and they still look marvelous. She's perfectly happy to just snuggle up with a pile of books.
The books are so absorbing that she completely forgets to mark the official passing of the year. She doesn't watch the clock, she doesn't count down. But midnight still ends up being impossible to miss, because everything changes, all in a rush.
It feels a little like magic, the way her senses are suddenly muted. It's not that she can't smell, or hear, just that she can't smell or hear as much as before. She has to take a few deep breaths just to confirm that she can still smell anything at all, but the sharp pine scent of the tree is still there, and the lingering smells from Newt and James's dinner. To her considerable surprise, those scents, though faint, are more tempting than they've ever been before.
Melanie gets to her feet, frowning as she does so. She feels... heavy. Or heavier, anyway. She shifts her weight experimentally, then takes a few slow steps towards the kitchen. Her body still seems to be working like it should, but it also feels different in myriad ways she finds difficult to place. It isn't until she sets her hand on her own belly, patting herself as if to make sure she's all there, that she realizes she feels warm. Not safe-inside warm, but warmer-than-the-room warm.
She starts to get an inkling, then, of what this might mean, but it's so hard to believe that she shakes her head in automatic denial. Even Newt and James, with all their magic, can't fix her. They can make a broom fly, but they can't make her what she's not.
She's still standing there, bewildered, when someone finally walks into the room. "I think something's wrong with me," she says.
