Dorcas Meadowes is still alive (_dorcas_) wrote in afreshrpg, @ 2012-03-29 04:52:00 |
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Entry tags: | character: dorcas meadowes, retired: regulus black, time: 1998-03 |
WHO: Dorcas and ???
WHEN: Thursday evening, 29 March.
WHERE: The Leaky Cauldron
WHAT: Dorcas arrives in London after nearly twenty years of being on the run.
RATING: Probably fairly tame, depending on who shows up.
STATUS: OPEN and In-Progress. =)
Dorcas had thought she'd never see the inside of the The Leaky Cauldron again. She'd never thought she would see any of Wizarding London again, for that matter. She leaned her shoulder into the heavy door, pushing her way into the space that was once so familiar to her. It was strange to be back.
In one hand, she held a suitcase, charmed to fit much more than any Muggle suitcase could hold. She was planning on taking a room above the pub, so long as one was available. Her eyes swept over the room. Very few patrons, considering the time of night. The emptiness put her a bit at ease.
Her instinct was to speak Russian, and she had to remind herself that it wouldn't be necessary anymore. How strange, after more than a decade of speaking another language, to switch back to the words she'd known since birth. After a few words with the owner of the pub, she had secured herself a room. She had no idea how long she would be staying, but unpacked her suitcase anyway. After washing up and changing, Dorcas felt her stomach grumble. She had been traveling for days on end by train and bus to get back to London.
As she descended the stairs, she wondered if anyone would ever recognize her. She assumed that she had been pronounced dead, but didn't really know for sure. She could probably take up a pseudonym and no one would ever know the difference. After all, she was more than sure she had changed over the years. She was definitely thinner, and she felt like she'd aged a million years.
Dorcas rubbed her palms against her legs to dry them. For some reason, her fingers were shaking. She ordered a bowl of soup, then took her drink to the far corner of the room to relax a bit as she waited for her meal. In Russia, butterbeer was hard to come by. The drink of choice there was SnowAle, which chilled the soul rather than warmed it. Dorcas had always hated it. The first few sips of butterbeer were so bittersweet that she nearly cried.