Post by camila calderón on Nov 11, 2020 22:25:21 GMT -7
November 27, 2025
Córdoba, Argentina
Córdoba, Argentina
It was nearly summertime in Argentina, and Camila Calderón was home.
There was sunlight in London, but it didn't feel the same as the sunlight that hit her skin as she arrived in Córdoba, clutching an old sneaker—her Portkey—for dear life. With a backpack on for greater ease, she felt like a turtle that had been tipped over onto its shell, but she had to laugh as she felt the earth beneath her again. Even though she had landed awkwardly on some grass, she didn't mind. She lingered there, without anyone around her, for the first time in a long time, and breathed in. The air didn't have a particular smell, other than of a little bit of dirt—which she guessed that she had probably stirred up upon landing—but knowing that she was in her own country after so long was a relief.
After a few minutes of doing absolutely nothing except staring up at the sky in disbelief that she was halfway across the world in Argentina again, Camila rolled over onto her side. Weighed down by the backpack on her back, she got to her feet. It wasn't difficult to picture her destination in her mind from there, and she Disapparated away.
Standing in front of her front door, Camila knew that her parents must have heard the loud cracking noise that had come with her Apparition. She didn't have any time to retrieve her mobile phone to text them to say that she had arrived, but her mother practically flung the door open.
"Happy birthday, my princess!"
Camila, for her part, had already been reduced to tears, and she hurriedly flung her backpack aside without regard for where it fell so that she could greet her mother and hug her. It had been a year or so since she had actually felt her mother's touch and her warmth. She knew that she had missed it, but she hadn't realized just how much until her mother pulled her close.
Thinking back to how Auguste Courtmanche spoke of his mother and the way that he had spoken to her at her gravesite, she only cried harder with the knowledge that her mother was really there in the flesh to embrace her. They were happy tears, though they moistened the fabric of her mother's shirt as she rest her head upon her shoulder.
She looked up just in time to see her father exiting the house, smiling broadly and with tears in his own eyes. He waited just behind her mother, arms patiently outstretched for whenever she was ready. Camila was ready to hug him, too, but she didn't know how she was supposed to let go of her mother to do that. Instead, she motioned around her mother's side for her father to come to them, and he wrapped his arms firmly around them both.
It was the best birthday present that she could have asked for in all the world. Her parents hadn't been there to comfort her when she was ill and in the hospital with Hag's Fever, and the closest that they had gotten to her was via video call. Some days, with the travel restrictions, it had felt as though she might never make it home again.
Nothing—not even the rush of performing on the stage in front of thousands—was comparable to how Camila felt in that moment, mostly because she could shed being "Camila" for the few days that she would be home. As readily as she responded to her stage name, it wasn't her name, and it was so soothing to hear her father call her "Carmen". She had no intention of focusing on work while she was away, though she had promised everyone on her team that she would be back and better than ever when she returned to London. The city wasn't supposed to have become her home base; she only should have been as far as Buenos Aires, but she couldn't imagine parting ways with all of the people she'd met in Britain so soon.
While she might not have been ready to return home to her parents permanently, she had so much to tell them. She had to fill them in on everything, even when she talked to them almost daily on the phone. Someday, she thought, she wanted to be able to introduce them to her friends from Europe, too. Her mother might not have been a substitute for Auguste's, but she thought that they might like to meet one another, especially. Camila thought that he might appreciate having someone else available to listen when things became too much for him to bear.
It took effort to speak between even sobs of joy, as Camila soon discovered. "I love you, and I missed you so much," she told her parents, only barely pulling away from their touch. Smiling, she shook her head and tried to wipe away a few of the tears she had shed. "I don't want to cry," she promised. She was trying her hardest.
Her eyes stung a little as she moved beyond her parents' embrace, and her father went and grabbed her backpack—the one that she had all but discarded in her rush to greet him and her mother—so that he could carry it inside for her. He cracked a joke about how heavy it was, questioning what she had needed to pack that had weighed so much. It was nothing, she assured him. (Though it was her birthday that she was there to celebrate, Camila had actually snuck in some gifts for her parents, too; she couldn't have come home empty-handed.)
Entering the front door alongside her mother, Camila was glad to see that very little had changed. Maybe they had done it on purpose and left things mostly the same as how they had been when she'd last left home; Camila didn't know, but she soaked in the familiarity of it all. There wasn't anything to suggest that she was a celebrity, famous across the world for her music. There were no shiny records mounted on the walls to show her accomplishments, but she knew that it wasn't because her parents weren't extremely proud of everything that she had done. It just wasn't garish.
"I know it's my birthday, but I have some presents for you, too," Camila revealed, turning her head in the direction of her father, who was still holding her backpack. "They're in the large pocket, on top of my clothes." The gifts themselves were wrapped, so there wasn't any way that her parents would be able to tell what was inside the packages until they opened them up, and Camila was excited to see how they would react. "One for you and one for Mom."
Her father got the presents out of the section of the backpack that she had indicated to him, and he handed one of the two of them to her mother. "Okay," Camila grinned. "I want to watch you open them!" She hadn't purchased anything extravagant, but she hoped that they would like what she'd bought. One of the gifts was a selection of British teas for her mother; the other was a watch for her father, which they opened and both expressed their gratitude.
"I would have brought more," Camila laughed, "but I'll bring an entire suitcase when I come back from my tour. They're trying to reschedule it for early next year now," she explained, "because the borders were only just reopened after all of the quarantine stuff." She was glad that she would get to hold her concerts as she had planned and was slightly happier about scheduling them during the academic year for most of Europe. Probably, she would have most of her concerts on the weekends, when the teenagers from schools such as Beauxbatons could attend, and that meant that she wouldn't be away from London for quite as many days at a time, rushing from city to city.
She was determined to deliver on her promise to her fans that they would still have the opportunity to see her perform live and in concert. It meant just as much to her as it did to them. The excitement on her fans' faces when she stepped out onto the stage for a show was so fulfilling, and getting to meet fans in person was even better. Camila loved that her music made other people happy, and she wanted to be someone whose path young people could aspire to emulate. If she wasn't doing that, then what was it all for?
Thinking of her fans, Camila went and got her phone out of her backpack and opened up Vibe. Quickly, she typed out a message in English:
Looking back up at her parents as she sent the Vibe out, Camila smiled sheepishly. "Sorry," she apologized, "I didn't want them to think that I'd forgotten about them, or for them to wonder where I am." No one would have expected that she had gone back to Córdoba, and she wanted to maintain that privacy for as long as she possibly could.
Played characters mentioned: @auguste, Sienna Aurélie Linslee
There was sunlight in London, but it didn't feel the same as the sunlight that hit her skin as she arrived in Córdoba, clutching an old sneaker—her Portkey—for dear life. With a backpack on for greater ease, she felt like a turtle that had been tipped over onto its shell, but she had to laugh as she felt the earth beneath her again. Even though she had landed awkwardly on some grass, she didn't mind. She lingered there, without anyone around her, for the first time in a long time, and breathed in. The air didn't have a particular smell, other than of a little bit of dirt—which she guessed that she had probably stirred up upon landing—but knowing that she was in her own country after so long was a relief.
After a few minutes of doing absolutely nothing except staring up at the sky in disbelief that she was halfway across the world in Argentina again, Camila rolled over onto her side. Weighed down by the backpack on her back, she got to her feet. It wasn't difficult to picture her destination in her mind from there, and she Disapparated away.
Standing in front of her front door, Camila knew that her parents must have heard the loud cracking noise that had come with her Apparition. She didn't have any time to retrieve her mobile phone to text them to say that she had arrived, but her mother practically flung the door open.
"Happy birthday, my princess!"
Camila, for her part, had already been reduced to tears, and she hurriedly flung her backpack aside without regard for where it fell so that she could greet her mother and hug her. It had been a year or so since she had actually felt her mother's touch and her warmth. She knew that she had missed it, but she hadn't realized just how much until her mother pulled her close.
Thinking back to how Auguste Courtmanche spoke of his mother and the way that he had spoken to her at her gravesite, she only cried harder with the knowledge that her mother was really there in the flesh to embrace her. They were happy tears, though they moistened the fabric of her mother's shirt as she rest her head upon her shoulder.
She looked up just in time to see her father exiting the house, smiling broadly and with tears in his own eyes. He waited just behind her mother, arms patiently outstretched for whenever she was ready. Camila was ready to hug him, too, but she didn't know how she was supposed to let go of her mother to do that. Instead, she motioned around her mother's side for her father to come to them, and he wrapped his arms firmly around them both.
It was the best birthday present that she could have asked for in all the world. Her parents hadn't been there to comfort her when she was ill and in the hospital with Hag's Fever, and the closest that they had gotten to her was via video call. Some days, with the travel restrictions, it had felt as though she might never make it home again.
Nothing—not even the rush of performing on the stage in front of thousands—was comparable to how Camila felt in that moment, mostly because she could shed being "Camila" for the few days that she would be home. As readily as she responded to her stage name, it wasn't her name, and it was so soothing to hear her father call her "Carmen". She had no intention of focusing on work while she was away, though she had promised everyone on her team that she would be back and better than ever when she returned to London. The city wasn't supposed to have become her home base; she only should have been as far as Buenos Aires, but she couldn't imagine parting ways with all of the people she'd met in Britain so soon.
While she might not have been ready to return home to her parents permanently, she had so much to tell them. She had to fill them in on everything, even when she talked to them almost daily on the phone. Someday, she thought, she wanted to be able to introduce them to her friends from Europe, too. Her mother might not have been a substitute for Auguste's, but she thought that they might like to meet one another, especially. Camila thought that he might appreciate having someone else available to listen when things became too much for him to bear.
It took effort to speak between even sobs of joy, as Camila soon discovered. "I love you, and I missed you so much," she told her parents, only barely pulling away from their touch. Smiling, she shook her head and tried to wipe away a few of the tears she had shed. "I don't want to cry," she promised. She was trying her hardest.
Her eyes stung a little as she moved beyond her parents' embrace, and her father went and grabbed her backpack—the one that she had all but discarded in her rush to greet him and her mother—so that he could carry it inside for her. He cracked a joke about how heavy it was, questioning what she had needed to pack that had weighed so much. It was nothing, she assured him. (Though it was her birthday that she was there to celebrate, Camila had actually snuck in some gifts for her parents, too; she couldn't have come home empty-handed.)
Entering the front door alongside her mother, Camila was glad to see that very little had changed. Maybe they had done it on purpose and left things mostly the same as how they had been when she'd last left home; Camila didn't know, but she soaked in the familiarity of it all. There wasn't anything to suggest that she was a celebrity, famous across the world for her music. There were no shiny records mounted on the walls to show her accomplishments, but she knew that it wasn't because her parents weren't extremely proud of everything that she had done. It just wasn't garish.
"I know it's my birthday, but I have some presents for you, too," Camila revealed, turning her head in the direction of her father, who was still holding her backpack. "They're in the large pocket, on top of my clothes." The gifts themselves were wrapped, so there wasn't any way that her parents would be able to tell what was inside the packages until they opened them up, and Camila was excited to see how they would react. "One for you and one for Mom."
Her father got the presents out of the section of the backpack that she had indicated to him, and he handed one of the two of them to her mother. "Okay," Camila grinned. "I want to watch you open them!" She hadn't purchased anything extravagant, but she hoped that they would like what she'd bought. One of the gifts was a selection of British teas for her mother; the other was a watch for her father, which they opened and both expressed their gratitude.
"I would have brought more," Camila laughed, "but I'll bring an entire suitcase when I come back from my tour. They're trying to reschedule it for early next year now," she explained, "because the borders were only just reopened after all of the quarantine stuff." She was glad that she would get to hold her concerts as she had planned and was slightly happier about scheduling them during the academic year for most of Europe. Probably, she would have most of her concerts on the weekends, when the teenagers from schools such as Beauxbatons could attend, and that meant that she wouldn't be away from London for quite as many days at a time, rushing from city to city.
She was determined to deliver on her promise to her fans that they would still have the opportunity to see her perform live and in concert. It meant just as much to her as it did to them. The excitement on her fans' faces when she stepped out onto the stage for a show was so fulfilling, and getting to meet fans in person was even better. Camila loved that her music made other people happy, and she wanted to be someone whose path young people could aspire to emulate. If she wasn't doing that, then what was it all for?
Thinking of her fans, Camila went and got her phone out of her backpack and opened up Vibe. Quickly, she typed out a message in English:
Thank you all for the birthday wishes! I love you! #LOVE
Looking back up at her parents as she sent the Vibe out, Camila smiled sheepishly. "Sorry," she apologized, "I didn't want them to think that I'd forgotten about them, or for them to wonder where I am." No one would have expected that she had gone back to Córdoba, and she wanted to maintain that privacy for as long as she possibly could.
Played characters mentioned: @auguste, Sienna Aurélie Linslee
