Dark Dissension

Who: Ainsley Innis and Nora Branstone
What: Nora needs an education and extroversion
Where: Dolls, a lesbian bar in Edinburgh
When: Wednesday evening, 12th March
Rating: PG-13 (maybe?)
Status: Closed; Incomplete

This whole scour-the-planet-for-Lestrange thing was getting old. Really bloody old. Ainsley couldn't just refuse to do it, though. Especially not when her entire division was on it and particularly not when she was taking his last victim out for a bit of extroversion that night. She'd owled Nora earlier in the day to tell her work absolutely would not release it's vice-like grip on her until at least seven. Through owls they arranged to meet up at Dolls. While she desperately wanted to rip her hair out and possibly beat the hell out of either a punching bag or a person, Ainsley reminded herself with whom and why she was going out to Dolls tonight.

Ains had managed to get home, shower and relax before she had to go out to meet up with Nora, who she didn't actually know at all. The Auror figured there weren't too many people likely to be wearing a skirt and jumper ensemble and considering recent happenings she was willing to bet Nora would be covered more than anyone else going to the bar. She showed up early clad in a simple white tank, fitted jeans that weren't too tight, and motorcycle boots along with a long, black jacket. Ainsley was trying to not be too much of a dyke but she suspected she was failing just a little bit at that. "Whatever, she's looking for a lesbian, right? Maybe I should've butched it up," she muttered quietly to herself as she leaned against the stone wall.

Who: Nora and open
Where: A chip shop on the pier
When: Saturday night
What: Nora goes out with Dan the Plumber at Harry's insistence. (No idea what happens from there - I simply thought it'd be an amusing open thread.)
Rating: PG-13 for swearing, most likely
Status: OPEN; in progress

"I said, of course, you can't bloody put your hand down my knickers." Nora was growing obviously irritated. "This is a chip shop - can't you read the sign? You can't very well rent it by the hour." She watched as Dan rolled his eye at her, then shoved another chip into his mouth. It was truly amazing how many he'd the capacity to shove in at one time. Perhaps you should have tried the tart cards, Nora told herself. At least when you pay someone, you might be able to expect them to behave.

With a sigh, she leaned against the table, her eyes looking out across the crowded room, begging someone- anyone - to spill hot coffee on her so that she'd have to jump up and go to the emergency. And be so horribly scarred she could never go out with the man again.

Or something of that nature, any road.

Who: Rodolphus Lestrange & Nora Branstone
What: Rodolphus' first strike (a Birthday present)
Where: The British Wizarding Museum
When: 5pm, 23rd February, 2005
Rating: R
Status: Closed; Complete
Notes/Warnings: It isn't in any way graphic or explicit but there is infant/foetus death

( Some say the end is near. Some say we'll see armageddon soon. I certainly hope we will. I sure could use a vacation from this, Bullshit three ring circus sideshow of, Freaks )

Who: Eleanor Branstone & Harry Potter
What: A walking tour of the places Harry's slept in. I'm blaming this on Gwen.
Where: England
When: Saturday, 16th February
Rating: R-ish for language.
Status: Open; incomplete

"If you offer to pay me, though, I'm going to have to look into doing something else," Harry said, glancing pointedly over at the woman. "I think I could be a whore. I'd make a really bloody awful whore but I reckon I could do it. Probably. Possibly." Nose scrunching, he ducked his head and shook it slightly. "Actually, you know, no. I'm going to say it's because I've morals and...you know what? Just don't pay me."

His shoes scuffed off the ground, feet kicking loose rocks on the ground as he walked, eyes on the ground rather than the landscape in front of him. His shoulder glanced off that of one of the passersby and an apology tumbled from his lips before he'd even really thought about it, walking straight past the crowds until he'd got to a rather secluded spot. Or, rather, it was what could have been considered a secluded spot in London, the only people about Polish workers, who spoke with one another in their native tongue, calling back and forth to the people across the way. He didn't understand a word out of their mouths but it sounded fairly angry; then again he considered any language other than English as vicious sounding.

"You're up for being reckless, right?" he asked, grinning. "Except for how it's not really being reckless but, you know, perhaps you'd some fucking huge and important lecture to be at today on how to work in a museum or some such and wandering about could be considered reckless. If not we can just pretend you do, okay?"

Hand disappearing into his jeans pocket, he pulled out his wand and stepped further into the shadows just in case there were any passing Muggles. He'd prefer not to have to spend time trying to convince a Muggle they were insane, or seeing things.

WHO: Nora Branstone, Nephthys Spinks & OPEN
WHAT: Tea with hookers (to be edited when someone tags in, and you all know you want to)
WHERE: Shipp's Tearooms, Park Street, London
WHEN: Saturday, February 9, afternoon
RATING: R-ish for potential discussion of sex and who knows what.
STATUS: OPEN; Incomplete

"Sooo, Candida-"

"Candy." The woman- or was she supposed to be a girl- across from her snapped her gum, then blew a gum bubble so large that Nora couldn't see her eyes. Tilting her head, she speculated about what would happen to Candy's wall of bangs were she to pop it.

"So, Candy," Nora picked up her cup of tea, ignoring the stares of the old couple in the corner. The man had been watching Candy's legs from about an hour. While she had to admit that the girl's constant crossing and uncrossing of flesh was distracting, it was also a bit irritating to hear the occasional thunk of the man's wife shoving him with her cane. "I thought really that I'd call you up and ask you to tea for a question."

"Oh, bugger, I knew you was one of those."

"One of what?" She leaned forward, brown eyes lively with curiosity.

"You're one of those what's going to ask me about what it's like-" A choke, then Candy swallowed the gum with her extraordinarily large mouth. She was wearing orange lipstick. Nora hadn't known they made orange. She made a note to buy some. "About sucking cock and taking it up the bloody ass and what do men want and how does it feel to get bloody spanked all the time- well, that bit's not a picnic, I tell you but the rest- and then you're going to try and sell me Jaysus."

"Jay- oh. Right." Her brows knitted in confusion as she picked up her teacup. "No, actually, that's not it." Nora pointed to the bump of a stomach that was currently jiggling the table. "I'm having a baby."

"Did I fuck the father?"

"No- well, maybe- I won't be surprised but that's not the point." Another sip of tea. "See, I've got to come up with a middle name. And I haven't really got any female friends- or friends at all, really- and it struck me that you'd likely know a ton of names. I mean, I'm sure your clients call you all sorts of things. So I thought that I'd ask you for a name."

"A name?" The woman seemed flabbergasted. "Me? Oh, bollocks, that's..." To Nora's great surprise, Candy burst into tears. A black flood began to rush from around her eyes at such a rate that the smaller woman was surprised. Stumbling up, Nora's head craned around the room.

"Has anyone got a handkerchief?" She called out. Then, after a desperate pause- "Napkin? Loo roll?"