laugh hard, it’s a long way to the ground; any

[dolohov and lestrange]

And I said, ashes to ashes, we all fall down. I wanna hear you sing the praise. I said, ashes to ashes we all fall down. We got innocence for days. Everybody burn the house right down. Lestrange is well aware of what it’s like to wonder if she lived in reality or if she wandered freely in a dream world. She could never quite accurately explain her shaky grasp on reality to her brother; she lived and breathed hallucinations most days. Although rarely did they occur when she was wide awake - she was plagued during her moments of drowsy unawareness. They were disconcerting yet accompanied with occasional amusement and delight. Sometimes she daydreamed that she was walking amongst clouds while other days she watched giant shadow creatures engulf the other horses of the meadow. She always reveled in how unsuspecting the stupid horses were of such magnificent predators. She especially enjoyed relaying these small hunts to her brother for he thoroughly appreciated a good spot of hunting every now and then. Dolohov certainly never thought any less of her when she fell into her little bouts of confused reality. Dolohov was perhaps the one steady thing in her life. He hadn’t left her side since the beginning – determinedly following after her through the birth canal to even now when she wished to investigate a strange fallen star. He was careful to never fully smother her free ranging tendencies, but he remained ever vigilant when it came to potential threats. Although he may not be the largest of creatures, he could certainly be a vicious little thing when it mattered. He pulled up alongside her left flank just as she breathed a quiet “Fascinating!” through her lips. The young stallion knows that she’ll have thrown all caution to the wind just by the fact that this stranger appeared almost as fantastical as some of the things she regularly saw in her own little world. Dolohov glances amusedly between the two mares, although he is already aware that he has to be the voice of reason if the situation unravels into instability. He offers a small, somewhat guarded smile to the cosmic stranger and studies her with a sober curiosity. “Did you perhaps hit your head on the way down? You could be suffering from memory loss.” Lestrange gasps with sharp worry and scrutinizes the length of the stranger as if she could diagnose memory loss from her outside appearance alone. “That sounds troubling. Does your head hurt terribly?”