RP Log: Alana and Caradoc PLACEHOLDER WHO: Alana and Caradoc WHEN: 29 July - midday WHERE: Kew Gardens' pagoda. WHAT: Caradoc answers all of Alana's questions. All of them. RATING: G STATUS: Complete.
Troupes of Muggles ranged all over Kew Gardens, enjoying the brisk summer weather while it lasted. Insects droned in well-manicured blossoms and their bright bodies connected the flower beds to one another with the iridescent whirr of beating wings. Caradoc, for his own part, was twenty minutes early, pacing beneath the red arches supporting the pagoda. He anticipated any number of reactions from Alana and worked to brace himself for each. It simply wouldn't do to be caught unawares - she needed to know, but he needed to safeguard the Order's secrecy.
It was not long before Alana arrived, looking purposeful and almost grim as she followed somewhat meandering pathways, passing several people in her effort to make good time. She had always been a destination-rather-than-the-journey girl, and today was no different. She gave little thought to the flowers as she made her way to the pagoda that dominated the sky above her. Adjusting her bag, which hung over one shoulder and rested on the other hip, she finally halted. She was surprised when, without expecting it, her eyes landed on the tall ginger-haired man, and she approached him with one hand in her pocket.
"Your watch is incorrectly set," she informed him. "It is not, in fact, two minutes to noon."
Having had his back turned - a child, it seemed, had lost its balloon to the sky and the red thing drifted upward and was lost amid the glare of the sun - Alana's sudden statement brought a measure of shock that was absorbed with an easy smile and a turn upon his heel. "I couldn't keep you waiting."
"Then don't," Alana said, dark eyes expectant. Her usual fond propensity for friendly conversation was abandoned for efficiency and the satisfaction of a strange hunger that had bypassed her stomach and gone all the way into the core of her being. "Tell me what you know about my brother."
With a light grip upon her elbow, he drew her into a corner of the grounds that seemed at least a little more defensible and positioned himself in such a way that he had full view of anyone within hearing distance. "Your brother," he began, taking a deep breath. "Was a member of a vigilante organisation called the Order of the Phoenix. He died trying to break into the seventh floor of Rodolphus Lestrange's library where, apparently, reside many dark objects that could put him away for life. He even created - with Fabian and Gideon's help - a machine to detect and bypass wards. It's currently in the hands of Rodolphus Lestrange. But the one ward he couldn't get through - a blood ward - was the death of him."
Alana was silent, letting Caradoc's explanation go uninterrupted as she took in the information with little surprise (as, in fact, most of what he said she already knew). Although, of course, she hadn't known about this organisation, and already her heart was beating with intrigue. When he had finished, she stood mutely, eyes averted - whether in thought or sorrow, it was hard to tell.
"A blood ward," she finally repeated in a whisper, without looking up. "That's why he was in -" And suddenly her throat was thick and she had to clear it. "That's why he was in pieces?"
With thumb and forefinger, he pinched the bridge of his nose and nodded. "Leave it to Lestrange."
She fell quiet again, eyebrows knitting in a peculiar expression that meant she was struggling not to show too much of what she was feeling. She had certainly been in some amount of shock when Josephine Savage had written her back and told her her brother was mixed up with the Lestranges, but seeing it on paper had been formal, and she could (and did) easily close the journal and walk away from it. With Caradoc here before her, telling her about Benjy, she felt that once again she was standing in her doorway, looking out at Lily and Remus, hearing for the first time that she had lost someone. And it hurt afresh, so that she wasn't sure if she could speak around the lump in her throat. So, she reached into her bag and pulled out Josephine's letter - the original - and handed it over to Caradoc without a word.
After quickly scanning the letter's contents, he folded it back up and gestured for her to retrieve it once again. Well that was something he didn't necessarily know.
"So now you know. Octavius Pepper's got the Prewett twins' notes for the detector. We're fearful that it's what hapens to be getting Lestrange into - say - the McKinnon house. We're developing a strategy for retreiving the actual thing."
Alana looked up, finally, her eyes shining with sudden moisture. She replaced the letter in her bag and nodded, looking distantly thoughtful, before realisation caught up with her. Pepper was in the Order, too. Pepper had the notes for this detector. Her notes, the ones she'd been poring over for the last few nights, were probably for this detector, as well. Suddenly she was very focused and her tears receded almost immediately as plans swept through her head.
She raised her eyebrows. "So. This Order of the Phoenix. You fight Death Eaters?" She had never really been one to beat around the bush, and she had decided during one of her sleepless nights after receiving Jo's letter that she would do whatever it took to get the answers she needed. "How do you get in?"
His lips parted and he broke out into a wide grin, giving her a simple laugh. "Well," was a thought as one hand fell to his hip and he gestured in the air with the other. "I'm not entirely certain seeing as your case is rather atypical. I am more than willing to vouch for you, though."
Alana returned the smile a little tremulously. "Aye? Do they like you?"
He shrugged. "Well, they don't hate me."
"It's a start," Alana murmured, and shifted the weight of her bag on her shoulder before she remembered why it was so heavy. She blinked and looked down at it. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "I'd forgotten-" She withdrew a large book from within the bag and presented it to him without ceremony. It was an old thing with 'Ireland: Traditional Wards and Protections used by the Celts' emblazoned across the side, and she'd found it in Benjy's closet when she had been digging through it. She spoke quietly. "I don't know that he found it all that useful, as he only marked a few of the pages and half of it's in Gaelic besides, but I thought maybe you could use it."
The tips of his fingers ran gently over the faded cover and as he flipped through a few of the pages, he found that he could indeed use such a treasure as the one she gave him. His lips twisted in a crooked smile as he read over the Gaelic, absorbing the subtle connotations in the phrases before he looked at her again. "That was very thoughtful of you."
Alana did not ordinarily blush, but she felt her cheeks warm at his appreciation, and she found that she could not immediately meet his eyes, instead dropping them in a strangely pleased embarrassment. "It's nothing," she murmured shyly. Then, after a moment, she cleared her throat in an attempt to rid the situation of what she perceived as awkwardness. She lifted her eyes again. "I, er, that is. It's the least I can do."
"I may be able to use a few of these at your house," he said, noting Alana's blush even as he shut the book with a dull thud. It flattened his brow - what did he do?
Alana blinked up at him and smiled, ignoring (and really, barely noticing) his vague frown, preoccupied as she was with forcing her own face under her control, and wishing there was a way to physically stop oneself from reddening. As the topic turned from herself and her thoughtfulness, she felt the heat leave her face gradually. "If you think it's necessary," she replied, nodding her head. "I thought maybe -- I mean, I'm not sure where Benjy got that book, but if the Lestranges also have a copy-" and the unspoken implication, if it was in fact their copy - "They might know about this sort of thing. And what they know, we should know."
" ... ahhh," he said, suddenly overly aware of what he might be holding in his hand, at once fascinated and disgusted at the thought of the Lestranges using his heritage to murder people. "I'll make a thorough scouring."
"I'm sure you will," Alana said with sincere confidence, and with all of the tasks in her mental checklist now ticked off, she visibly relaxed. She took a moment to look about, and for the first time since arriving in the gardens, appreciated them for their beauty rather than their convenience.
Following her gaze, he nodded absently and flicked his hand toward the arrow of land that spread out before them. "I've always loved Kew," he muttered, suddenly gripping Alana's shoulder. With her chin softly held in the palm of his hand, he turned her gaze back toward him. "You want to be involved with this Order?"
Unused to very much physical contact, at least not with strangers (although, Alana supposed Caradoc could no longer be counted as much of a stranger), Alana's initial instinct was to pull away, but she found her logic won over instinct as usual. She had no reason to withdraw, as his grip was firm but undeniably non-threatening, and his inquiry of interest. She gazed up at him silently for a long moment. Caradoc was no stranger to her now. He was an acquaintance at least, and if she was very honest, one whom was quickly becoming a well-regarded friend .... and considering his offer, even an ally. There was no trace of uncertainty in her tone when finally she nodded. "Yes. Please."
" ... you know the risks," was almost inaudible as he continued to hold her there, still but for a flutter of his eyelashes, a flare of his nostrils.
"A little too well," she responded with due solemnity, thinking of Benjy.
Indeed, perhaps she knew the risks of involvement with the Order of the Phoenix better than most. "I will do what I can for you. They are all rather thinking toward you in that way, anyhow. I'm quite optimistic."
Though her stomach fluttered, she was unable to express any sort girlish excitement at the prospect of something so grim and important. She would remember this day, she was sure, as the beginning of a story, but as of now she did not know whether the ending would be a happy one or not. In fact, she had a distinct feeling it would be some sort of cautionary tale. Maintaining her sobriety, she dipped her head with only a flicker of an appreciative smile in her eyes.
"Aye," she said, in her typical fashion, and that was all.
As she dipped her head, he let his grip fade and his hands fall back to his sides as he stepped back to give them both room. He waited another beat before speaking, a wry sort of note coming out of a crooked mouth. "I don't think I have to stress the importance of secrecy." Pause. "I'll keep you informed."
"My lips are sealed," she assured him, with quite a bit less sarcasm than she usually favoured. She took a step back, sensing that their meeting had come to an end, and regarded him plainly. "I'll see you again soon, I excpect?" She tried not to sound too hopeful.
"Hearing from me, too," he said, and lifted his hand with odd amalgamation of respect and fear (for her, for what could happen). Looking about them there, in a secluded corner, covered from Muggle eyes, he finally brought out his wand and gave it a simple flourish. His loud crack of Disapparation was loud on the air.
Alana let her eyes linger on the place where Caradoc had been, until she felt altogether foolish and turned quickly away. There were hours left in the day, and work to be done, although she was certain her mind would be wandering toward Caradoc and the Order until they met her halfway. Soon, she, too, had disappeared, and there was no evidence that either had been in Kew Gardens at all.