Who: Em Andley (wordsaremusic) & James Mortimer (plagiarising) What: Er, we have a problem. Where: Haven, staff quarters. When: Thursday evening, 12/30, shortly after this. Warnings: None.
The place looked like a train ran through it. While blood had been scrubbed away, mess from Nina's rampage wasn't so easily remedied: it was more than a matter of overturned tables and upset chairs. Far, far too aware of all this, of her ability to only fix pieces and parts, Emily tucked herself into the furthest corner of the staff quarters, the corridor where only she and Gryff's rooms were laid out. Her door stayed open -- all the better to listen for trouble, for danger, for anything at all -- and with no music to fill the void it was eerie, ear-ringing silence.
No surprise, then, that she glanced up straightaway at the sound of footsteps. Not Gryff: too much noise. Not Ophelia: too purposeful. James, then, the poor man who'd come back to chaos instead of sanctuary. When he stuck his head around the doorframe, she was cross-legged atop her bed, Library journal on one knee. "Hi. Is everything all right?"