Hopefully Sam has a pinpoint, because what's that he's being texted by Cissa? That would be pinpoint coordinates, yes. 

He'll find the diminutive blonde on a park bench with a picnic basket, throwing a stick for the puppy (her name is Medea and she's just what Cissa needed, you know, while in the middle of trying to relocate -- thanks Dante) and wrinkling her nose at all the dog slobber left on it when Medea brings it back to be thrown again. The sun is shining and there are children playing on the jungle gyms nearby. Birds singing. It's generally a very nice day. 

Cissa hums an old tune and waits.

Things were a great deal simpler three years ago. 

My birthday came last month, and I chose not to mark the occasion -- I received a selection of gifts from Mrs Fawkes, as an appreciation of my talents. It's odd to think of the things I've done and how far I've come from being a Hogwarts drop out. And I have come quite far, I believe, in this small handful of years. 

I'm not sure what or who I am at the moment. Everything has changed so much and I suppose I've changed with it, but sometimes I wonder if I've changed too much or not enough. Bella would say too much, of course, and probably follow it up with something fit to send her to Azkaban, but she's not here to lay her judgement on me, and I'm tired of doing it for her. 

I'm taking a bit of time off from SWP. Mrs Fawkes promised me there'll still be a position for me in her company when I feel fit to return. I don't want to stay in Las Vegas any longer, so the house will be going on the market as soon as I find somewhere to move to. I'm not sure I'm going to stay in this world, or find somewhere new to try and really settle. I should like to have a home again, I think. I've never been much of an adventurer. I suppose that much isn't hard to see, knowing me even a little. 

I'm not sure who to talk to about any of this. If anyone. I do sometimes wonder if it wouldn't have been better to live out my life as fate decreed it ought to be -- if perhaps I'm running into this trouble because this isn't what I'm meant for. I know, however, that it is far too late to turn back now, and I don't know that I would if I found I could. I've put so much time and effort into my life. I'm proud of my accomplishments, such as they are. 

I suppose complexity is part of growing up.

Rabastan was killed in the asylum. 

It was Antonin Dolohov. Not from either of our worlds, but one who visits the nexus. He believed Rabastan should not have to live like that -- that being what he was, he should have the right to simple death and not suffering the way his victims did. 

I always hoped Rabastan would improve and be released. I don't agree with what Antonin has done. 

But I don't have any way to change it. 

I'm so sorry, Tam. If you need anything, all you need to do is ask. 

You know I wasn't as strong as perhaps I needed to be, but I never stopped loving your father. I hope that you know that, and that he knew it, too.

I realised today that my Thea will be two years old on July 8th. I was quite shocked by this, I must say -- I shall only be nineteen the month before. 

She has so much of her father in her. It's good -- she has something of him, though he may not return to us. 

My work is time-consuming as ever. Thea has a new nanny, as the previous woman proved unsuitable after all. There shall be a certain adjustment period, I expect, but I am hardly to entrust my child to house elves. For one thing, they don't exist in this world. 

I noted recently how my social circle has dramatically shrunk in size. Truthfully, it's far more manageable as it is. 

I do miss the 'opera'. And my lovely boys -- my families, too, I have such love. But,  c'est la vie. 

I think Thea and I must do something to celebrate her birthday. We did not, for her first. Tragic.

Narcissa can't smoke at home any more, not with little Thea...she does outside, sometimes, but it's easier just to go elsewhere. This is why she's perched on the arm of a convenient nexus sofa, a lit cigarillo in one hand, a glass of wine in the other, and real estate brochures in front of her.

Andromeda suggested going somewhere else. That it must be hard to be in the house she shared with Rabastan.

Narcissa's tired of trying to solve her worries with 'holidays'; perhaps a new home is in order.

I've made a decision.

It's been a while since I've updated this. So, hello, darlings. Rabastan is still, to the best of my knowledge, being treated at Arkham Asylum. I do keep track of my husband, yes, thank you. Baby Thea is doing very well, and she has a nanny now -- Penny -- who I believe I owe a great deal to for her tireless hard work.

Speaking of hard work, I took a position in the demonology department of Scorpion Woman Productions, having taken to working for Mrs Fawkes again. I appreciate her willingness to hire me, considering certain facts. I am competent and willing to put in the hours required, so I don't worry too much about it.

It's been a bit too long. How is everyone? If you still read this.

Narcissa yawns, stretches, and ... freezes. There is somebody else in this bed with her...the previous night rushes back into her memory and she sighs quietly, sitting up and clasping the sheet to her chest. "Clothes, clothes," she mutters, but it's her pinpoint she reaches for when she hears it ringing on the nightstand.

"--yes, this is Mrs Lestrange, who am I speaking to?"

Meme stolen from like EVERYBODY.

( My Narcissa... )

I went to Rodolphus' grave, with an alternate of Regulus. The alternate who assisted his suicide -- killed him.

It was...strange. To think of him as gone now. Though I suppose he's reunited with his Bellatrix...I think they were always a little too much for their world. For any world. Perhaps now they've found peace. Even after everything -- everything she did, everything they did, what I did -- I want them to have that.

I don't know what I'm thinking right now. Or feeling.

I wonder what he did with Bella's body.

I still have the knife.

I need to finish packing. I don't even know how long I'm going...