The Letter [ I'm opening this now ;) ]

[jacob]

Conan shuffled through the grass on his way to the lake. He took his usual path, winding down the grounds, but he did not skip, or urn, or swing on tree branches. Instead he simply walked, his eyes on his feet, the letter he’d just received still held loosely between his thumb and first finger. His body ached. It was a pain that echoed through him, calling forth from an exhausted heart. His heart still beat, but it was no longer the beat of a heart. No, it was a hallow pound he felt, there was no feeling left but what one feels when on only unfeels. It was emptiness, an indescribable emptiness.

Conan laid himself gently down on the grass near the lake. He sat in the same spot he always seemed to sit when he was near the lake. Whether he picked the spot or not he always seemed to end up here. This was the spot he had sat in his first year, almost feeling the same feeling, clenching a similar letter. It was a letter from hs mother, the last message he received from her. Conan could remember sitting in this same spot with many a fellow classmate, listening as they shed their problems on him. Conan wished he had someone else to worry about right at this moment. The last memory Conan held of this spot was the most pleasant memory he had. The last time Conan had sat here, it was when he met Abby.

Of all the girls Conan had met at school, Abby had held his interest longer, and better then any of the others. He thought of her often during his sleepless nights and he had completely changed his chosen paths around school so that he could run into her. She truly made him feel better then anyone else could. Sadly, Conan would probably not remember today the way he remember that day. No, today Conan felt as if tomorrow would never come. He felt as if today’s pain would last for ages, and there would be no memories, only a constant, lasting day of pain.

Conan laid back, tucking the letter securely under his back. He rested his head on his hands and looked up at the cloudy sky. It was cool today and the breeze carried with it the smell of rain. Conan closed his eyes as he took a deep breath, in hailing the damp fragrance. His mind crept through his emotions, clawing for some feeling, some hope. Finally a poem crept upon him and greedy fingers closed upon it, finding solitude and salvation in the words. Conan opened his mouth and let the words flow forth from the captivities of his head. His voice moved with rhythm, an unknown melody leading the stanzas of the poem so well memorized.

“Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.”

Conan paused and thought through the similarities between himself and the poem. It seemed so nice a thought; so nice a thing the poem spoke of; to just…stop. Then, before the thought struck too deep, Conan echoed out the end of the poem.

“But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.”

He sighed miserably as a breeze picked up, carrying with it a mist from the lake.

“So true Conan, so true.”

[jacob]

Alone; the most frightening word in the English language, and the most terrifying concept in the entire universe. Loneliness was a separate idea. Conan was not lonely, Conan was alone. The grounds were empty, deserted. There was not another soul outside tonight. Only a desperate child would seek the sanctuary of a rainstorm. The mist Conan felt creep from the latke was slowly replaced by soft raindrops. Conan sighed deeply, the cool water tapping his scull, reminding him he had left his hat in his dorm. It would have done nothing against the rain, but nevertheless, Conan wished he had the thing now.

Now it was true, that hat was the past part of his uncle that Conan possessed. The rain fell harder on his head, soaking Conan’s robes. The wind could not be found, only a gentle breeze continued across the grounds. When the first bolt of lightning struck the rain began to pound down on Conan. He sat up and stared out at the dark lake, watching heavy drops of water fall from the sky and smash against the calm surface. Soon it couldn’t be labeled calm. The rain fell harder and harder, shattering the serenity of the once smooth water.

A shout could be heard, echoing from the heavens as the thunder reeled. Conan remembered watching thunderstorms with his parents as a child, and how his father’s protective voice would always explain to him about God’s civil war. ‘God is fighting the devil Conan. He’s punishing him for all the evil in the world.’ Conan did not believe in God, it was one more part of his father that he condemned, but right now, at this moment, Conan missed his father more then anything. He missed him for the first time in years.

He missed his father, he missed his mother, and now he missed his uncle and cousin. Was it all his fault? Yes; he’d made the mistakes, he’d angered his family, and he was to blame.

In times of great pain, all Conan could do was remember. He remembered poems, stories, and songs. Conan was fighting the urge to sob, no, he would not cry. Not yet, not if he could fight it. The rain fell down his face, coaxing him to let it out, but he refused. Instead he opened his mouth and sang. It was the only song he remembered from Ireland. It was the song of hi mother used to sing to him. His voice cracked and he periodically stopped to catch his breath, struggling against his tears.

“Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen, and down the mountain side
The summer's gone, and all the flowers are dying
'Tis you, 'tis you must go and I must bide.
But come ye back when summer's in the meadow
Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow
'Tis I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow
Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so.

And if you come, when all the flowers are dying
And I am dead, as dead I well may be
You'll come and find the place where I am lying
And kneel and say an "Ave" there for me.

And I shall hear, tho' soft you tread above me
And all my dreams will warm and sweeter be
If you'll not fail to tell me that you love me
I'll simply sleep in peace until you come to me.

I'll simply sleep in peace until you come to me.”

The rain still fell hard, and once again the thunder shook the earth. Conan took a deep breath and let his guard down for just enough time to ruin his composure. The tears fell and his body shook as he sobbed out all the pain he felt. He hadn’t cried this hard in two years. He clenched his shaking fists and turned his face to the sky. In his heart he begged the God he did not know for something to help him. He pleaded for someone to care and in the most child-like way, he yearned for arms willing to hold him and a voice to tell him it would all be ok.

[Katya Love S5]

It was going to rain again. “April showers bring May flowers,” Katya muttered to herself as she pushed her potions assignment away from her and looked out the library window. The sky was darkening like it had the day Katya had received news of her grandmother’s death. She was surprised she hadn’t gotten too bad of a cold as a result of that night, but instead she had received a change in attitude and personality. As she sat in the chair, her head was propped up on her hand while she stared out the window, she felt someone sat down beside her. “It’s going to rain,” she said without looking up at the newcomer. “It rains way too much here.” Katya moved her gaze to the person who had joined her and smiled. “You told me that days got better, and they didn’t… they just got greyer.” She remembered the day she had decided to lie on the floor and he took a seat beside her, explaining how days got better if they started out bad.

“Ah, yeah, well, we can’t always be right.” Was his reply. Mm, how true was that? Katya sighed and gathered her belongings, deciding that maybe this rainfall would be better than the last and she could enjoy it. “Going somewhere?” he asked. Katya shrugged, it looked like it. She bit her tongue from snapping at him. After all, he had helped her through quite a bit over the past couple of days and that was one thing she was grateful for. She tucked her hair behind her ear, grabbed her jacket, and slung her shoulder bag over her shoulder. He had always disappeared when she was about to ask him his name, but now it was her turn to disappear. “Outside?” he asked instead of the question she had been anticipating. She shrugged and pushed the chair in before waving a goodbye and leaving the library. He had popped into her life, whether she had wanted him to or not and Katya felt herself torn between being thankful and being weary at his sudden appearance. She wondered if the latter was because of how she used to be. This was the new Katya after all, and she really shouldn’t feel like everyone was out to get her. There was a good reason why she had felt that way before, though, wasn’t there? Because most of the time, there were people who were out to get you.

Katya welcomed the cool breeze as she pushed open the double doors to reveal the grounds. They had just gotten over the muddiness of the weeks rain, and now it was going to rain again and the mud would return. She didn’t mind, though. Rain was soothing. She looked up at the grey and darkening sky and realized sooner than she had expected to that it was going to be an even worse rain fall than the night she had collapsed mentally and emotionally. Bring on the lightening, she thought with a smile on her face. She turned to head toward a tree and sit down to enjoy the storm, when she caught sight of someone by the lake. Standing where she was a moment, Katya chewed on her bottom lip as she debated over going down there and joining them or staying where she was. The new social Katya said go down and join, but the sensible Katya put in the thought that maybe they wanted to be alone. Her thoughts were interrupted by a thunder clash and then the sudden down pour of rain. Her hair stuck to her face as she continued to stare down at the lone figure by the lake. Well, she couldn’t just let them stay down there and get sick. No, if she went down there and told them that a cold from a rain storm like this was not a good thing – she could at least said she tried. Plus it would be one more person she had talked to.

With this mindset, Katya raised her jacket over her head and made her way down the hill toward the lake. It started to rain harder and the thunder continued to boom over the grounds, but Katya didn’t pay any attention to it. As she drew closer to the person, she realized it was Conan and she stopped walking. The last time she had spoken with Conan hadn’t been very friendly. It didn’t matter. This was the new Katya. She took a couple of more steps closer to him, but stopped again when she saw he was crying. After a moment, Katya took out her wand and set her jacket on the ground. “Wingardium Leviosa,” she whispered. The jacket floated into the air and she directed it over Conan’s head. She reached him and knelt in front of him. Wondering if he would notice her there. She might as well make her presence known. “I have a favourite poem by Emily Dickinson. It’s from her Time & Eternity collection, poem number 112.” She was speaking softly and the rain was hitting her jacket. Finally the jacket gave in and dumped the water it had been holding onto Conan’s head. “Oh!” She quickly reached for the jacket and smiled apologetically; “Sorry,” she shrugged slightly before tucking her hair behind her ear and looking down at her hands.

“I felt a funeral in my brain,
And mourners, to and fro,
Kept treading, treading, till it seemed
That sense was breaking through.

And when they all were seated,
A service like a drum,
Kept beating, beating till I thought
My mind was going numb.

And then I heard them lift a box,
And creak across my soul,
With those same boots of lead, again.
Then space began to toll

As all the heavens were a bell,
And Being but an ear,
And I and silence some strange race,
Wrecked, solitary, here.”

She looked up at Conan again, shrugging once more; “I thought I’d share it, before I told you that sitting out in the rain – even with the hope it would wash away all pain – will only get you a cold.”

[jacob]

Conan barely noticed when the rain hitting his head eased down. Had his tears not been streaming down his face he might have, but in this condition it made no difference. The voice that suddenly replaced the sound of rain was familiar. A voice, oh god a voice. Conan thought to restrain himself for a moment and he looked up at the girl kneeling in front of him. Through foggy eyes Conan finally made a connection between the voice and the face; Katya.

“Katya, oh dear lord, Katya!” At the same moment he realized who she was, water dumped over his head. It was as if someone had been holding a bucket over his head and now decided to drench him to awake him from some trance; though this was not effective. Conan laughed a gasping sort of laugh as he fought back sobbing still. It was worthless though, the boy’s whole body shook in violent tremors. His whole body hurt from the inside out. Now he could not recognize a heart beat in his chest, and vicious heaving motions followed each shallow breath.

Katya was speaking, though Conan had no idea what about. It was obvious now that his previous exclamation over her identity ahs been lost in his fit. When her voice finally ceased Conan opened his mouth to speak again. Some part of his mind realized he could speak in his Russian now, that he would be understood. It was apparent when he opened his mouth and let his tongue flap in the foreign language.

“What am I to do Katya!? What am I to do? It is done now, he’s done it. Where am I to go? Not to my father’s house, he will never allow me!”

Conan’s eyes closed tight and he tried to breath slowly, a raspy breath of a tired and torn soul.

“Who do I have if not my family? Not my mother or my father, or my uncle or cousin. There’s not a McIlroy in the world that will take me!”

In desperate times one rambles, Conan was in desperate times.

Soon his voice faded away and understandable sentences were gone. All that was left were clipped words: I…go…where…when…how…who. He wanted to throw himself into her arms, sopping wet and all, but a part of him was afraid. Conan did not know Katya. The first and last time they had talked they had clashed opinions all night. If Conan had been thinking in his right mind he would have remembered her antisocial personality and wondered what she was doing here. At this moment, he wanted to be held.

[Katya Love S5]

Katya’s eyes never left the mess that was Conan. She sympathized with him, but she did not know what to do or say. When he realized it was her, all she could do was offer a small smile. She did not know what she could do to make him calm down or… at least try to control the hysterics that were evident in him. She could not tell him to get over whatever it was that had him like this because she did not know him, she did not know what was wrong, and because she was not a hypocrite. It had only been days earlier that she had been in a storm all of her own. At least, Conan had someone who understood a little with him, Katya had no one. She watched him as he started to speak to her, in Russian. Her mind switched gears as she went from thinking in English to speaking in her native language. With a soft look after Conan had finished talking and was now mumbling nonsensically, Katya moved from where she was kneeling in front of him to sitting beside him. Slowly, the words parted from her lips into the air and storm that surrounded the two third years. Her Russian was flawless as she spoke, but she did not know if the words she spoke would make sense to Conan. She did not know anything at this point. “The hardest part of being in this world is to live in it. To be someone who matters. It is not a question of, who you are, or where you are to go. It is a question of if you are willing to discover who you can be and where you can go.” Katya, up until now, had been looking out at the lake, but now she turned her head slightly to the right to look at Conan.

She watched him a moment and then looked down at the ground; “I don’t… I don’t know what your history is or who your family is or what they’re like, and I don’t know you all that well. I don’t know how my words can comfort you, or how anything I say will get you through this tough time. I don’t know if you even want me, of all people the girl who argued with you over everything the first time we really spoke, to be here for you and to tell you that perhaps it will be okay. I don’t know if that will even hold any truth.” The Russian was still strong as she looked back up at him, her eyes searching his and holding so much sympathy for him. “From what little you’ve told me I can only guess what’s gone on to make you like this, from what little I’ve observed from my antisocial post I can only make an assumption that it’s something dreadful because you wouldn’t blow something out of proportion. But, like I said, I don’t know you, not really.” Katya smiled softly again, “But I know that all that really doesn’t matter, because I would have died for someone to find me when I was crying in the rain two nights ago. I wouldn’t admit it, because I thought it weak and I don’t do weak… but I would have gotten on my hands and knees and prayed to God if there is one to send someone to me to just pat me on the back and say ‘hey, it’s okay.’” Katya knew she was rambling, but it wasn’t something she could help. It was what she did when she found herself in a situation that she hadn’t prepared herself for. She rambled when she didn’t understand something, or when she didn’t know what to do.

“And even if they were lying, I wouldn’t care. It would just mean the world to me that they were there. But I didn’t get that. I didn’t get an angel or someone to hold me while I cried. I got mud, and a storm, and some cuts.” Katya felt like she was talking about herself too much. This was Conan’s problem, his ordeal. Katya had successfully gotten over hers (or she thought she had at least), and it required a huge attitude change. Conan was different. He had no reason to change. And it was because of this, that Katya finally decided to do her best. Before she had just been rambling about nonsensical things, but now she was going to try. “You asked who you had if you didn’t have your family, and the really easy answer to that question is you have yourself and your friends, and you have those who care about you. You have Hogwarts, and you have closure, and you have a lot of really great things that shine through even to us outcasts.” Katya let out a sigh while looking back across the lake that looked so menacing in the storm. Her eyes flitted back to Conan and then she smiled again with a small shrug, “And for the time being, you’ve got me. I’m here to pat you on your back and say ‘hey, it’s okay.’” As she said this, Katya reached over and put her arm around Conan in an uncharacteristic gesture. She smiled softly again, “Who knows? Maybe it will be. Maybe you’ll be able to fix it all.” All the while she had been speaking in Russian, and she had been savouring the words as they flew from her lips. But as she spoke the next sentence, she switched to English; hoping to emphasise the importance of the words, “It all depends on you.”

((So, she rambles and she’s a bit cliché with the whole thing, but *shrug* what can ya do?))

[workitout]

Abigail slowly made her way to the castle doors from the great hall. She had taken a break from studying in the common room in search of food, she was hungry and had eaten all the snack food she had taken to eat while studying. When she was in the great hall she had finally realized it was raining outside, as she didn't want to pass up a chance to be out in the rain. She kept missing her chances. Every time it rained she was in class, looking out her window longinly or she had been in the slytherin common room and been completely oblivious to the outside weather. Rain was probably her second favorite weather type. Complete sunshine or pouring down rain. That is how she liked the weather. One or the other, no mixing of partial sunny, light rain. That was just a tease and mean of the weather in her opinion. She pushed open the castle doors, grinning at the sight of the pooring down rain and occasional lightning and slowly started her decent to the grounds.

She made her way down towards the lake, the tree she had sat under last time would lessen the amount of rain hitting her, or so she figured becuase of all the leafy branches. She was already drenched within just a few steps out of the castle but she didn't care, she had her sweater on for some warmth, even if it was now wet. The cool breeze however, that sent a chill down her spine. She was debating heading back up to the castle when she noticed 2 people under the very tree she was headed to. They weren't however happy looking, from they way they were positioned anyway, like Abby was and she was curious as to what was wrong. She didn't question why someone upset would come out to the rain, she herself had also done it many a time. Something about the rain, to her at least, could help calm those feelings. She crossed her arms, quietly making her way towards them, not wanting to startle or bother them..at least not yet.

Curiosity is what lead her to continue the path to the tree. As she got closer she recognized the girl but couldn't place her but trying to figure out who she was did not occupy Abby's mind at that moment. She had glanced from the girl to the boy and froze, it was Conan and he looked as if he had been crying. Funny thing to assume as it was raining but his face was more than just wet it was upset. Abby knew something bad must have happened and she hated that she had not been here for Conan sooner, though she hadn't known, but she would still beat herself up for it. She could hear the girl speaking, the breeze carrying her voice but she couldn't understand it. It was soft and mumbled, making it hard to hear, not that she was trying to evesdrop, but it also didn't sound like English. The few bits she could make out seemed familiar, the sound and infliction not the words and she recognized it as the same language Conan had spoken to her the first night they met.

She rushed down the rest of the path, trying to avoid slipping on the wet grass in her haste to get to Conan and find out what happened. "Conan are you ok?" It was a simple question, but she was sure it was enough. She plopped herself onto the grass beside him, sliding her hand onto his back, rubbing it gently. Her glance flickered to the girl, giving her a soft smile, hoping she wasn't interrupting an important conversation between the two. Hoping the girl would understand Abby's need to be there. Sure things between Conan and her were not finalized or set in stone or discussed ever in fact yet, but Abby still felt close to him, wanted to be there for him.

[jacob]

Katya’s words hit Conan hard. It wasn’t so much what she said, as how she said it that really made the difference. It was the Russian that soothed him; the Russian that made him feel safe. This was the feeling he got at his uncle’s house. His uncle’s house was sanctuary. It was a place where Conan was protected; from his father, from judgment, from criticism, and from the world. Now where would he go? In all honesty Conan did not know. The school year would not last forever. Soon he would be forced to find somewhere to stay. He would never be able to go back to his fathers. That man, that cruel, cruel man, must have been laughing right this moment. Conan could imagine him; sitting in a warm study, sipping tea by a fireplace, laughing; a maniacal laugh, a laugh that would chill any other man to the bones. It would be the laugh of a man who knew he had damned his son, his enemy, to a life of constant solitude. Conan was without family now. No more McIlroys left.

At these thoughts, Conan only clung to Katya’s every word more dutifully. Everything she said entered his head and was stored away. As much as Conan wanted to hear her out, as much as he wanted her words to make him better, and as much as he wanted to mull over what she was saying; he physically could not. Conan was soaked, soaked to the bone with cold, cold rain water. His head was drenched, his clothes where drenched, his heart was drenched, and the rain kept on falling. The pressure, the pain it had initially caused when it hit him had faded to nothing now. Conan did not even notice the rain, but his body did. His body said to itself, we are not fit, we are not healthy. Therefore, it took all of the minds duties that did not involve running Conan’s immune system, and shut them down. Conan could not think logically.

The hand on Conan’s back was one thing he did feel though, and the new voice in his ear, the Irish one, it shocked him. He turned a soggy head to the new visitor and burst into a new wave of tears. Abigail, Abigail Roche! She had come to him, she had found him. Conan had forgotten the girl for the time, he had forgotten about her sweet voice, her cute smile, and her kind words. Conan hated himself for forgetting, but the mind does what the mind needs to do. But nevertheless, now, she was here! She was sitting next to him, she was touching him, speaking to him, and she cared! Conan did not hesitate throwing himself in her arms, oblivious to the other girl, to Katya, to the one whom had been there originally. He fell against Abigail and sobbed harder, teeth chattering and chest heaving. “Net! Net, no, no no! Ya ne zdarov! I am not ok!” His thoughts, his words slipped in and out of Russian. Some part of his consciousness recognized that Abby would not understand the Russian, but it was hard to move out of it completely. He just shook; he didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t know how to explain, he didn’t even want to talk about it. He would have given the girls the letter for them to read, but by this time the thing was illegible, completely destroyed by the rain.

(Ya ne zdarov: means “I am not well”…and Net means No…if you didn’t catch that XD)

[Katya Love S5]

Katya was never one to feel like she was shoved aside. For years she strived for just that. Solitude. She longed to be forgotten in the shadows of the back drop that was the world in which was filled with egotistical and self centered bone heads and morons. It was quite easy, too, because she had always been the quiet and meek mouse that no one quite understood. As she grew older, she found it harder and harder to get used to being pulled to the center of attention. She found she didn’t know what to say or how to act or how to make anyone realize that she too was just one of them – trying to fit into a world that was full of misfits. Now, at Katya’s peak of being social, and her height of laughter and smiles, and at her generous personality – she was shoved aside like an old toy that meant nothing or had stopped working was placed on a shelf above a bed in a child’s bedroom. She felt a blow hit her stomach, while she stared at Abigail Roche who was being pleasant enough to offer a hopeful smile. Katya arched an eyebrow and tucked her hair behind her ear as she fidgeted with her jacket. Conan, upon seeing Abigail, threw himself into her arms and sobbed even more. Giving a mixture of Russian and English to the other third year girl’s question which Katya had rolled her eyes at. Obviously, he was not okay. Who would be if they were sitting in the pouring rain, crying? Katya scowled at this thought. The idea that one could get comfort from another who had not been in a situation near enough like theirs wasn’t ideal in any sense. To be understood and to be comforted could not be given by someone who couldn’t possibly understand. If a homeless person was huddled on the corner in a village, pulling a thin and holey shawl close around their shoulders, there was no way a rich railroad tycoon could offer sympathy and comfort. To be able to do that would mean they would have to understand how it felt to be homeless. This was what Abigail was doing. Offering comfort and sympathy that she knew nothing about. Thus, Katya’s annoyance grew into anger as she watched Conan sob into her arms. It was not because she felt anything for Conan, in fact she was pretty sure it was just because she had been where he was. She could sympathize with him. She could tell him that everything would be okay and know what it meant to hear. As far as Katya knew, Abigail could not.

Her anger simmered inside her as there was a thunder clap over head. She didn’t jump, but she took that as her exit cue. Katya stood from her place beside Conan and draped her jacket over her right arm as she turned to look at the two. She was now painfully aware of just how wet and cold she was, her hands were trembling from the iciness of them and her lips were blue, but she didn’t care. She had been here before. Crying in the rain with the thought that nothing could go right. It would do no good for Conan tomorrow, it would not be a life changing action for him as it was for Katya, but Katya didn’t need to know him to know that it was helping now. And at that particular moment, now was all that mattered to Conan. She stood in the muddy banks of the lake as she watched Conan cry, and even though she knew he probably couldn’t hear her; “Izvi neete.” The words flew from her mouth and she meant them. How could she not? She did not pity him as others would, she did not tell him that perhaps it was for the best whatever it was, nor did she tell him that she completely understood where he was coming from. The words that fell from her lips were sincere, words that meant so much if they were said at the right moment. Sometimes that’s all one needed. Just to hear that someone felt something for them or their situation. I’m sorry was something that could be used in many situations, and it was called for now. Katya knew it, but she also knew that Conan was probably too far gone to realize she was still there. Why would he? He was now in the arms of the person who, from what Katya gathered, was there for him before. She looked down at them and shook her head with another quick roll of her eyes before muttering, “Ya sibya plocha chustvuyu.” She did, too. She did feel sick, but she didn’t think it was because of the sight before her. It was just easier to blame it on the interruption. “Look,” she said quickly in English, addressing it to Abigail (for if she wanted to talk to Conan she would have spoken in Russian) “he obviously isn’t well. The best thing for him at this moment is to get him inside and make sure he doesn’t get pneumonia.” Then she turned to Conan, “Uvidimsia,” With that, and a shake of her head, Katya turned on her heel and made her way up to the castle.

((Translation time!

Izvi neete - I'm Sorry
Ya sibya plocha chustvuyu - I feel sick.
Uvidimsia - See you.

All in Russian.))

[workitout]

(Thanks guys. You saved me the time of searching out translations hehe)

Abigail lost her balance for a second as Conan threw himself into her arms. She instantly wrapped her arms around him, feeling how wet and cold he was, wondering just how long he had been out here. He spoke to her, most of it in Russian, part that she felt she should know what it meant, the rest in English, letting her know he was not ok. Her hands moved slowly up and down his back in a comforting matter, her eyes traveling back over to Katya as she started standing up, feeling bad again for interrupting, she could tell by the look on the Katyas face that it had been rather a bit of an annoyance for Abby to come down there. Part of her was thinking she shouldn't have joined them but as she held the sobbing Conan tight she knew she would have hated herself to find he had gone through whatever the problem was and she hadn't been there to offer some sort of comfort.

She watched Katya, knowing she said something for her lips moved but had been unable to hear her. Then she moved closer, muttering something in Russian which she figured Katya wouldn't have cared if Abby spoke or not but realizing she must have known she didn't for she then addressed Abby in English. he obviously isn’t well. The best thing for him at this moment is to get him inside and make sure he doesn’t get pneumonia. Abigail blushed incredibly at this comment. Of course he wasn't ok, she had not of course been thinking of what she was saying to him when she had first spoken, more worried at the sight of him crying. She nodded in Katya's direction as she spoke once again in Russian and then turned and walked away.

After she had left, Abigail focused her attention back to Conan. Katya had been right, getting him inside quickly would be important she could already hear his teeth chattering and she knew part of his heavy breathing was the crying but she knew the cold would have that effect as well. She wrapped her arms tighter, being slightly warmer than him only having been outdoors for a few moments, hoping to warm him slightly with her body heat. "Conan, I don't know what happened, and I won't make you talk about it right now if you don't want to, I'll understand. But that girl was right, we really should get you inside before you get sick." She rocked lightly as she spoke, her words may not have been comforting but she wanted her touch to be. If she could comfort him at least somehow, in someway she would feel productive and helpful.