Emmeline "miscellaneous graph things" Vance (vancey) wrote in blurred_lines, @ 2009-03-07 22:24:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | ! [1980-03] march, augustus rookwood, emmeline vance |
RP Narrative; Emmeline.
WHO: Emmeline with a minor run-in with NPC Augustus Rookwood.
WHAT: Time to gooo.
WHEN: 7 March 1980, mid-day around 10:00am.
WHERE: Ministry of Magic.
RATING: PG.
STATUS: Complete.
The light was dim, as it always was. Emmeline walked through the shelves, almost feeling like she should tiptoe instead of thread so heavily on the stone floor. It wasn't sacred ground. Prophecies were hardly considered sacred, but it was still chilling to walk through slowly dying visions, all decaying in their untouchable glass spheres. She had been seized several times with the urge to push one of the shelves and watch them tumble one after another, throwing the entire room in light (for once). A sigh escaped her, tiredness and frustration mingling with that ball of anger at the pit of her stomach. Emmeline pressed the heels of her palm on her temples and breathed in the stale air, trying to stave off the feeling that the shelves were closing in on her--glass pressing against her sides until they were about to splinter and crack. (Perhaps then she'd feel something other than blank shock. What else was going to happen? Death? Another death? A protest leading to several more deaths? Some days she feels as if this war had taken all her sense of empathy and thrown it down the graves she'd been forced to see.) Her eyes opened slowly; her vision was slightly blurred now, softening around the edges, flickering at the steady glow of thousands of prophecies lined up neatly on the walls. She slid down to the floor, surrendering to the pull of gravity--gaining a sense of stability for once. Another shaky breath, a stifled sob (no one needs to know). God, why was the world so woefully pathetic that it couldn't even right itself? Twelve minutes. She allowed herself approximately twelve minutes to sulk. Then she stood up, her shoulders squared and began to methodically sweep her wand over the shelves as per usual, as per normal. Emmeline told herself not to think too much; for once, to just go, run. Run. If she got caught--no, she didn't need to think about the repercussions. No. Not this time. She finished cleaning the rest of the shelves in silence, her breath growing steadier and steadier as the time ticked past. By the time she reached the doorway, Emmeline was almost holding her breath, hoping to stay as quiet as possible; to stay as invisible as she could be without casting a charm. She exchanged brief smiles with the Unspeakables in the Time Room, ignoring the fact that the sound of ticking clocks only sped up her heartbeat, making her hands twitch at the brief silences in between seconds. There was a small pause when she stopped to slide her awaiting messenger bag at the side of the door, but she nodded politely and was back on her way. She hastened her pace, making towards the offices as if it was a normal day. Emmeline stopped in front of the junction between Planet Room and the Brain Room, hesitating where to start. (Where does one start?) Another beat, and she found herself turning the knob towards Dorcas' old office. She sucked in a breath and forced herself to be calm, detached. Clininal. There was no time to have her emotions play up now. (No time. The Unspeakables in the Time Division would beg to differ.) The room was empty and the brains glided sluggishly through the murky green fluid. Dorcas' old desk seemed messier than usual, someone had half-heartedly searched it. Shoving several broken quills and a half-empty jar of hard candy, Emmeline spotted the book. Standard, leather-bound and slightly tattered from overuse--Dorcas' old journal. She pocketed it quickly, feeling her chest constrict traitorously. No time. A quick glance through the files and she found that the most important papers were already taken, Emmeline swore under her breath and shoved what ever looked useful inside her bag. She didn't allow herself a moment to cry over the half spent ink well idling over to the side of her old friend's desk. She took less time to go to the familiar room, not even sparing a glance at Mars as she stumbled inside the darkened chamber. Emmeline didn't need to look at the signs. The pigeonholes, she knew, were concealed on the far fall. She only hoped that they had not changed the charms to unlock them. (They did, and it took her half an hour to finally go through it.) Her files were neatly arranged from left to right, the only discrepancy was the crumpled edge of parchment peeping through her report on the discrepancies of werewolf behaviour and the lunar cycle. Emmeline pulled a third of them out: half-researched experiments and reports she didn't have the opportunity to complete; some documentation on developments in charms and hexes; and her employment application. By the end of it, her bag (enlarged in capacity the night before) felt heavy and burdensome. Perhaps she could Vanish it if she needed to run. With the bag to one side, she allowed herself a minute to sit in the darkness, a smile creeping up on her face despite the situation she was in. This place had always felt more like home to her than her own apartment. Always. Her solace was broken when a voice interrupted her thoughts. Emmeline's head jerked up immediately. "Emmeline?" Rookwood's voice was kindly, a note of understanding ever present. "What are you doing, sitting here alone like this?" "I miss it here." It was the truth. She heard him chuckle as he walked towards her, Neptune casting bluish light unto the man she had always respected. How had he stayed so unbothered by everything around them? Emmeline gave him a sad smile and wished that someday when it was all over, maybe she could come back. Maybe one day, she'd be able to prove that a person can make a difference whilst cooped up in a darkened chamber, tinkering with the elements of magic. Maybe. "You'll be back here in no time," Rookwood continued, holding out his hand to help her up from the floor. "You'll see. I'm talking with our honourable department head now; on my way to see him actually." She feigned interest, uneasy with the ease with which lies slid out of her mouth. "You off to lunch then?" he asked conversationally. Emmeline nodded and smiled, "It'll be refreshing to see sunlight." "Quite, quite," Rookwood chuckled, then patted her on the back. "Well, I won't keep you." Pleasantries exchanged, Emmeline walked through the room, her footsteps echoing on the chamber walls. She felt Rookwood's eyes on the back of her head even after she closed the door behind her. |