Phaedra Romani (stronger_than) wrote in blood_red_sky, @ 2011-12-30 10:14:00 |
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Entry tags: | phaedra romani |
Not the only one (narrative)
The phone call to Michael hadn't put Phaedra in the best mood. Jack. Jack Robbins.
She knew who that was. She had a slip of paper with the address on it.
She wasn't about to run after him just yet. She needed a little bit of planning, a little bit of help...
Harry wasn't home, which was a shame. She wanted to talk to him about ways to stun or incapacitate Jack. Saerian. Whatever his name was.
She stopped at the kitchen table, pulling on her duster. Her eyes scanned the contents of the table as one pale hand pulled her dark hair clear of the coat's collar. There was something on the table with her name on it.
Phaedra's eyebrows furrowed and she reached for it. It was a simple, blank card. Her name was on it. Eyebrows still drawn together, she opened the card.
All it said on the inside was this:
Brauhofstr. 15
10587 Berlin
Charlottenburg
030 32 70 48 46
It was written in Harry's writing. Phaedra smiled. She put a hand over her mouth.
Shandor had been, when she'd last seen him, her age, exactly. He was learning from an elder, simple folk magic, simple curses. He'd had an absurd mop of hair and a crooked smile. She strained to remember if there was ever a mention of him being a wizard. It was there, pushed way down. Perhaps she'd heard it said. Once or twice.
She supposed it was stupid to think that she was really the only survivor, when there were people like Harry and Molly in the world.
He could help, she hoped. He could tell her some way of stopping Saerian. Shandor had been there when it all fell apart. He may have been researching the demon the entire time.
God, she hoped so.