Elsie Prod (puredeadbrill) wrote in blurred_lines, @ 2009-01-24 13:58:00 |
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"Ma'am?" A light shone from somewhere and the voice called out again but it was foreign and unwelcome. "Ma'am?" Things came into focus now, and the first sensation that Elsie recognised was taste - something dry and disgusting in her mouth. She spit it out, coughing and spitting some more and trying to get all the little pieces of hay out from off her tongue. She was glad was already on her hands and knees or she'd have keeled over to - wait, why was she on her hands and knees? "Ma'am, are you all right?" Elsie stopped spitting and looked over at the man she just realised was in the room too. He was standing in the doorway of the room - no, it was more like a pen - and he looked vaguely familiar. She stood up, putting her hand on her forehead. "Aye," she said, bewildered. "Think so. What - what 'appened?" "Well, it seems like you were transfigured into a yak," the man said kindly. He pulled his wand out from his robe and pointed it at a bench sitting along the wall, silently sending it over to Elsie so she could sit. "Saw it, er, you wandering around Diagon Alley and brought you in here. Wasn't too hard to move the rest of the owls over to the other room for a bit." She looked around, finally recognising the man and where she was. Eeylops Owl Emporium, and that was the owner. The room reminded her of the post office a bit, with posts and nooks for owls all around. "Crivvens!" she exclaimed, ridiculously thankful for the bench underneath her. Dem had turned her into a yak? "Thank ye, but... why'd y'do it, byraway?" He must have been a bashful man, because Elsie swore the owner turned a bit red. "No," he protested. "Figured something wasn't right, what with a yak in Diagon and all, and," his voice lowered a bit, "didn't want the Ministry getting to you first, not these days. Found there was some spell on you and I was just waitin' for a mate of mine to come see if 'e could break it, but suppose it wore off first. Ah, you mind telling...?" He didn't know just how grateful Elsie was that the Ministry didn't pick her up - she wasn't suspected but that didn't mean she wanted her name to start being recognised by the wrong people. "My eejit daftie of a husband lost the rag on me," she said bitterly. "Got mad," she clarified, in case he didn't know many Scots. "It's nothing." She wouldn't tell him the whole story, of course, but for helping her out she owed him that much at least. "I'm real sorry." The owner shook his head, and she could tell from the look on his face that he was dead set on not letting her apologise. She'd make him a cake anyhow. "Should prob'ly go," she muttered, pushing a curl behind her ear; she suddenly felt awkward sitting there. "'Ave you got the time?" she asked. "Half eleven." Oh, good. She'd only been gone about an hour and a half and she could just count that as her lunch break. She bid the man farewell and thanked him again before heading out into the chilly Diagon air. Back to work. |