wanded (wanded) wrote in afic, @ 2011-07-17 19:51:00 |
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Entry tags: | character: hestia jones, character: morgan bletchley, player: bri, player: magnolia |
WHO Hestia Jones & Morgan Bletchley
WHEN 17 July 2005 | after the "Ministry" leaves
WHERE Morgan's place
RATING low
One could only be alone for so long. She was secluding herself--which was the polite way of putting it--and Hestia was nearly at her wits end with it. She missed people, not passing a stranger to or from the market, not the quick jaunty scrawl of a friend bleeding up from a piece of parchment, but real interaction, conversation. It was hard to get when you literally feared for your freedom if you stepped out of your home; and unfortunately she did just that. She was a decent witch, fair spell caster, and down right impressive wand-maker, but she was also a vigilante and considered a danger to society because she believed in freedom. The idea boiled in her every time she thought of it, recalled that she'd had to sneak her sister and family out of the country just because the Ministry thought they were not fit to remain together. They had not even been purebloods a year! What the Ministry honestly thought they would do she could not even comprehend. After the insulting and offensive conversation she'd had with one of the Ministry-lackeys it had only gotten worse. She replayed the words over and over in her mind till she was sure her thoughts were going to bleed out her ears. Hestia's normal forms of release were long gone besides working and one could only do so much of that before they needed a break. The problem was, she was "secluded"; forced to just keep working with no means of otherwise amusing herself. She loved her work, adored it; she was learning all sorts of new techniques and very aware of the fact she was improving her style of wandmaking because of it. Still, she wanted some change in her life, some sort of human interaction. Hestia felt as though she had worn out her welcome at Charlie's and hadn't bothered him nearly as much as she had in the beginning. She even tossed around the idea of going back out of the country, joining Percy for a bit, just to change up the tandem. And then, collecting (or better--attempting to collect) unicorn hair she looked up and noticed something, realized something she had not thought of before. Morgan. She had realized she had completely forgotten her mate that probably felt just as segregated and alone this time of the month as she had for weeks. The moon reminded her she could be useful to others and...a bit selfishly realized it could benefit her. Morgan was a werewolf and he transformed. Werewolves had fur. Fur that could be collected and used as a wand core. Apparently work wasn't as far out of her mind as she figured as she'd shown up at his door offering (demanding more so) to help him at the moons peak. It was not a completely selfish request, she truly did care for her friend and knew--or figured--he could use the company and the help after just as much as she could use a companion. And to be completely honest, as the moon had finished setting Saturday morning, she had enjoyed taking care of him a bit. It kept her busy and gave her a new appreciation for werewolves everywhere and what they went through. She didn't mollycoddle, Hestia realized Morgan took care of himself just fine, but it was nice to have company and be allowed to feel helpful; and as the sun rose higher into the air she realized how much he needed help with--not so much taking care of himself in the cuts and bruises--but his basic sort of necessities. Food, water. The man did not cook for himself. She had an inkling the other times she'd been over when he hadn't just transformed, but she felt justified in ripping him a new one in this state. He needed nutrients and he let his cupboards go nearly bare. Which was why come Sunday she found herself shopping at a Tesco (because bleeding hell he just had to live in the middle of no where) fondling fruits and vegetables and picking out meats as if they were a domesticated couple. The thought made her laugh, and continued to make her laugh as she returned to his home arms loaded with bags. Knocking with her foot (which, truthfully could be more considered kicking), she awaited his answer before making the amused statement of "Darling, I'm home!" |