#culturewars (culturewars) wrote in cultureic, @ 2016-07-25 20:15:00 |
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Clara had no idea where she was running, but she knew that she had to get to safety now. By this point, she had lost track of where any of her loved ones were and she was determined to get out of there, without getting in the way of any rogue curses or anything of the sort. She made her way through the piles of rubbish and other debris, before finding herself near a loo. Cracking the door open (as though she expected to be attacked here), Clara held her wand at the ready in case anything was here. She yelped loudly when she saw a few figures, but relaxed when she realised it was Tamar and Juana. She was now panting, trying to catch her breath from running and leaned back against the wall, as she cautiously looked at the door, before glancing back at the two other women. "Are you alright?" she inquired, once she was able to regain control of her breathing. Tamar Zabini prided herself on always looking perfectly polished, as though she could at any moment be photographed for the cover of a reborn Witch Weekly. It was anathema to her to look either cheap or disheveled, and right now -- with a tear in her one-of-a-kind dress from Milan and her 100% veela hair extensions frizzing out in all directions -- she feared a camera nearly as much as she did the giant outside the lavatory. "Well, I am alive," she said, glowering. “Me too. Alive is good,” Juana chipped in. In a vintage (read: borrowed from a relation) jumpsuit and having the presence of mind to pack a pair of flats in her purse—though more because she was afraid her feet would get worn out dancing and less because of this (which someone must have known about, this was clearly planned)—she was marginally better off than Tamar in terms of attire. Though privately she thought the young widow Zabini still managed to present visually as a haute couture take on a catastrophe. The other woman certainly looked more put together than Juana herself felt. “We don’t know exactly what’s going on out there,” she added. “I personally don’t - you know - fancy getting any closer though.” "Then I think we ought to wait here for awhile until things settle," Clara replied at once, ignoring the throbbing on her feet from both her heels digging into her skin as well as all the running. She slid down to the floor, ignoring the fact that this was a lavatory and it wasn't the most cleanest place, but there was no time to think about such imperfections right now. And then she heard a rumbling noise and the ground beneath her beginning to shake. It almost seemed like footsteps and the subsequent effects. She shot a horrified look at Tamar and Juana which was returned in kind, but raised her wand again, her eyes on the door. "We are about to be attacked, I think," she stated, in a calm voice, albeit not being calm in her head at all. Tamar bristled, retreating further into one of the stalls. Juana nodded mutely, easing to the periphery of the door. Not because she was a coward (oh but she was), but she knew that her use in this scenario would be limited. But they were purists, weren’t they? Clara's father-in-law was a Death Eater. Not that Juana agreed with the Knights of Walpurgis’ ideology, not one iota—still, whomever came through that door would ignore them and find other targets—wouldn’t they? "It's been a long time since N.E.W.T.s," Tamar mused, lifting her wand, "but perhaps worth a try." Twirling it in a circle above her head, whispering under her breath, she worked a Disillusionment Charm -- not strong enough for true invisibility, but her flesh and her gown and her hair all blended into the wall of the lavatory like she was a chameleon. It was a well documented fact that giants were not the brightest of creatures. Even less so when they’d been let loose to cause carnage, destruction, and death. The giants were in the Ministry for one purpose: to create enough havoc and draw DMLE attention while the Death Eaters focused on more specific goals. Tumfum himself was under instruction not to harm purists. Tumfum didn’t know who was a purist and who wasn’t, admittedly, and given no one beyond the Death Eaters were wearing identifiable clothing (robes and masks he understood enough), well… His foot connected solidly with the door of the loo where several targets had darted. Attacking those fleeing was a good way to draw attention right? It didn’t matter who was in there, right? The door gave way, splintering and sailing in with considerable force despite the minimum effort from the large creature. The stall was empty. Juana—who hadn’t intended to leave Clara out there alone, even though she knew that she would be nothing but an extra body to get in the way with this—had darted into the now decimated cubicle. Fortunately, she had already slid under the wall to the next one, and then to the next one after that, until she was in the final one next to an unyielding tiled wall, backed into both a literal and figurative corner, biting down on her tongue so she wouldn’t scream. She needed to get out of there, some detached part of her mind noted calmly, even as her pulse thudded in her ears. They all needed to get out of there. They were small, could weave in and out of places that the giant (of course it was a giant) couldn’t. Here they were easy pickings. She raised a pair of shaking hands towards the ceiling, the right working at the ring on the left as she aimed for the corner opposite the door. Maybe—if the runes didn’t pick now to fail—the blasting charm would be enough of a distraction for them to get out. Tamar, for her part, absolutely intended to leave both of the other women in the lurch. Sorry, ladies. She scrabbled on hands and knees, mostly invisible, her dress utterly ruined but her survival the paramount concern in her mind. She clapped a hand over her mouth when she saw the giant for real, and managed to muffle a sharp cry of dismay before it escaped her lips. The urge to scream at the sight of the giant was so immerse, yet Clara managed to contain herself. The initial shock had waned off and she knew that she had to work with the other girls, in order for them to all get out of here, relatively safe. Think, Clara, think. What would Pip do? Surely Pip knew how to handle these creatures, and -- Yet, Clara didn't think like how her husband might have. She panicked as more destruction occurred around her. She pointed her wand at the giant, and shouted, "STUPEFY!" Any miniscule chance of the giant leaving the three women alone vanished in the instant that the stunner bounced harmlessly off Tumfum’s chest. Natural magic resistance combined with sheer bulk meant there was little chance such a spell would cause any harm. Despite their tendency to fight and kill, and the fact they’d allied themselves with dark wizards, giants did not appreciate being on the receiving end of magic. With a roar of anger the giant pressed forward, his massive form pressing against the door frame and then breaking it so he could fit through, stone and wall falling around him. The blonde with the wand trained on him was the one that Tumfum targeted, a large piece of debris from his dramatic entrance was sent her direction while he continued his advance, oblivious to where the others had hidden themselves. Clara knew she should have ran. Clara knew she should have screamed for help, trying to get other people around to help her. She had even momentarily forgotten that there were two other ladies with her, because a giant was coming after her. She attempted at throwing around a few more stunning spells, but they were neither aimed properly nor did they have any effect on the giant. That large piece of debris finally struck her, sending her flying backwards towards the opposite side of the loo. With a loud clunk!, Clara hit hard against the wall, her head hitting the wall harder than the rest of the body. The debris even managed to pierce through her skin, though that wasn't what made Clara scream out in pain. The impact of her body to the wall caused immense pain through her bones, and she could hear it cracking at her ribs. She didn't even need a Healer to tell her that. But she could neither call nor cry out for help now. Instead, silent tears poured down her face and dizziness began to set in as she could no longer make out the figures ahead of her very clearly. “Clara!” Juana’s low cry of dismay was—very, very luckily—obscured by the rumbling avalanche of the door giving away as the giant forced himself into the room. Her hands clapped over her mouth and a low hum of hysterical static drowned everything else out, made her feel as though she was hearing and seeing things through the sides of an aquarium, oblivious to even the slow crimson weeping out of a cut on her arm from a stray splinter that had shot her way. She was going to have to find Pip. She was going to have to find Pip and explain to him that there had been a giant, that Clara had been hurt—that Clara had died after a giant had stomped on her—while she herself had cowered in a corner and done nothing. It was therefore nothing like courage that finally propelled her to her feet. It was the thought that this was a conversation she did really not want to have with Pip, and that somehow for a moment, facing down a giant seemed minutely easier. A figure circled rapidly around the edge of the rubble, coming to a halt in the ruined doorway and selected a hunk of marble from the ground. A second later the hunk was pitched at the giant’s head. “Hey, ugly!” Fear and adrenaline leant a heightened pitch to her voice, finally breaking through the sensation of crawling through molasses. “Come get me!” Juana did not wait to see if the giant would follow. If he did, she would know. Not to mention need all the head start that she could get. The distraction was exactly what Tamar had been hoping for. With a mental sorry that she hoped Clara Avery could pick up telepathically (she did like Clara -- she just liked herself more), she rose to her feet and booked it out of the bathroom and down the hall as fast as she could, ducking under the looming arm of the giant and rounding the corner to flee far, far away. Giants also didn’t like little pestering creatures, and nor did they like to be insulted either, especially by little pink-haired witches. With an angry shout that seemed to echo overwhelmingly off all the walls, the giant turned and headed out after Juana as quickly as it could muster, leaving the blonde-haired witch in a heap where she lay. "Oh my goooooooood," Josie whined, her face pressed against the door. She could only hear a few things happening, mostly the sound of things breaking – which, ordinarily, would delight her because she really liked when things broke – and some faint screaming, so it wasn't satisfying enough. That, and they had been in this room for basically hours (twenty minutes), after commandeering it from a catering assistant named Boris, and she was getting restless. She slid down against the door, landing with a thump onto the floor. "Why is it taking so long? I accidentally left my bag outside so I don't even have my phone." “Bernard or whatever his name was left his,” Effie said, poking through the canapés again. She was bored and, while she had her phone and was taking what notes she could about what was unfolding outside for the Prophet — ‘smells of ham’, ‘doors of Ministry soundproof’ — it was barely stimulating her. And how could it? She was worried about too many people to fixate on one thing for very long. She nudged Boris’s phone with the toe of her shoe, sliding it over to Josie. “His phone case is embarassing.” "What even is that supposed to be?" Belinda frowned, wrinkling up her nose as she looked down at the phone case. "It has ears. How does that even work when you have it in your pocket?" She didn't know who this Bernard nerd was, but he had zero taste when it came to phone cases. "Oh hey, look, we're trending! Well not us but. #MoMMeltdown is like, totes hot right now. Let's take a selfie." There was a similarly disgusted expression on Josie's face when she picked up the phone case in question, her fingers daintily clutching one of the years. "Who's Bernard? I thought his name was Bertrand! Or Beaver. Is Beaver a real name?" She flopped back onto the floor, peeling off the offending phone case and then unlocking the phone – he didn't even lock it. What an amateur. "Should we pretend to be really scared? Or like, confused?" “No,” Effie said around a mouthful of canapé, a hand coming up to cover her mouth until she’d chewed and swallowed. “I don’t do scared or confused.” She paused to consider what Josie had said before, picking up another canapé and considering that, too. “I don’t think Beaver is a name. I’m pretty sure it was Bernard.” "His name is Cassidy," Belinda replied boredly, nabbing one of the bruchetta squares off of a plate. "Lol jk it's probs actually Beaver. I think maybe we should each pick an emotion. Like those monkey emojis, except with expressions," she said, considering what their selfie game should be as she transfigured her wand into a selfie stick. "Effie, you should do "aloof." Because Effie and Belinda were eating, Josie felt like she had to do the same. She couldn't be left out like that! Scanning around the room quickly, her eyes fell on the croquembouche that had fallen half over (probably because of Beaver's clumsiness) and nabbed two from the middle. There, much better. "Bel, I think you should go for the thinker pose. And I'll be the creepy laugh crying emoji!" Effie was already wearing her aloof expression because that’s the emotion she insisted on feeling about this whole affair, even the part that extended beyond their room of food. “I don’t think that emoji’s creepy,” she said, brows furrowed. She glanced at Belinda. “Is it?” "Wtf Josie, why is that emoji creepy?" Belinda asked, losing the Thinker pose she'd fallen into in favor of an expression of confusion. "Ugh wait did you get the Bellatrix definition of it where it's a person scream-crying because they're being tortured into insanity? That's totally not what it actually is." "Um no," Josie answered, a little creeped out by that. Even though Bellatrix was like the coolest, scariest lady ever, she wasn't not weird sometimes. Apparently, especially because of her emoji interpretations. "Wouldn't that be more like the screaming emoji? I bet that's her favorite. But anyways, it's creepy because no one laughs like that! It's so…" she waved her hands around, with one still clutching a cream puff. "Here, look at it!" Quickly clicking up Messages, she opened the last hext Beaver had sent (do u think i'll get to see gilderoy lockhart tonight????) and rolled her eyes before selecting the creepy laugh crying emoji. "LOOK." Effie stepped away from the canapés to peer at the phone. Blindly, she reached for a cream puff off to her side and nearly missed her own mouth when she brought it to her lips. She was about to say she still didn’t see it, that people rarely looked like the emojis on their phones. “Oh, his name is Boris,” she said. She wrinkled her nose. “What a terrible name. No wonder he goes by Beaver.” "I know what it looks like!" Belinda laughed at Josie, only to frown when Effie mentioned the waiter's real name. "Wait Boris? There are people who are actually named Boris? His parents must've been really embarrassed by him when he was born." She flipped her phone around so that the camera was facing them, then waved for Josie and Effie to jump into the shot. "Okay, Boris sux on three!" Very loudly and enthusiastically, Josie chimed in with, "BORIS SUX!" and a big smile, forgetting for a second that she was supposed to be the creepy emoji. She finally got it right on the second try, although, of course, they had to do two more for Zapchat and Wiztagram. As if anyone could suffer from too much Yaxley. She flipped the phone – Beaver Bernard Boris's, she had to correct herself, although if he really cared about it, then he wouldn't have just left it behind like that – and was struck with an idea. "Can we send incriminating hexts now?" “Of course!” Effie said, cheerfully, peering down at Boris’s phone. She reached around Josie’s hand to tap at the screen until they were back at the list of people he’d been hexting. “Oh, that looks like a serious conversation.” She tapped again. “Let’s tell —” She squinted. Even Boris’s friends had terrible names. “Let’s tell her he’s leaving her for his co-worker Marcel.” "Oh. MY GOD. That's brilliant," Belinda cackled gleefully, her eyes scanning over the words of the text. "I mean, this really is the least that he deserves for leaving his phone unlocked. Oooh! Shrimp cocktail!" she added, distracted by a new dish on the snack cart that she hadn't noticed before. "Also that…" Josie thought about it for a moment, trying to think of something else that would humiliate him. "The dress he always said he liked was totally unflattering and it burned his eyes whenever he had to look at it." She shuddered, even though it was an imaginary dress. It was probably orange. Flopping back against the wall, she sighed. "What if we have to stay in here forever?" Eventually, they would have to run out of food, right? The chocolate fountain couldn't sustain that that long. “We won’t have to stay forever,” Effie said, patting Josie’s arm. “We’re only hiding because we’re too pretty to die from friendly fire.” Patting Josie’s arm one more time, she gently slid Boris’s phone out of her cousin’s fingers and started to type out their messages. As she typed, though, she tried to catch Belinda’s eye and when she finally did, she tilted her head significantly in Josie’s direction. As she hit send, she passed the phone back to Josie. “There. Now we wait for her to flip out.” Belinda caught Effie's glance, and looked between Effie and Josie as she tried to interpret it. "Yeah, Josie! We're all going to be fine. We're going to be the first people they come looking for when it's all over to make sure that we're okay. And because the food is here. I bet they'll be here any minute now," she assured her cousin, and then stunned Josie behind her back. "Was that it? Was that what The Look was?" Belinda asked Effie as Josie slid unconsciously to the floor. Effie blinked at Josie and then at Belinda. “No,” she said after a moment. “That was not what The Look meant. I just thought she could use a hug, Bells, honestly!” But she gave their unconscious cousin a considering look and then added, “We should wake her.” She hesitated, though, her wand hovering over Josie for a too long moment before she finally muttered the spell to revive her. "Good morning, sunshine!" Belinda quickly welcomed her cousin back to reality, bending down to hug Josie, as if that had been the plan the whole time. Because it had. "I hope you had a good nap!" Groggily, Josie woke up, blinking slowly and heavily as she adjusted her eyes to the light. When had she fallen asleep? Were the cream puffs drugged? She took a look at the croquembouche on the nearby table and glared at it. "Is it really late now?" The room looked the same as she had left it before her impromptu nap, so that didn't give her any indication of how much time had passed. "Has Beaver been humiliated yet?" “Oh, yes, immensely,” Effie said, scooping up the caterer’s phone to see. Nothing. She thought about giving Belinda another Look, but decided against it in the end. They couldn’t keep stunning Josie, after all. She’d probably get an actual head injury. “Let’s take pictures of the food and post them to his wiztagram. We’ll say he sneezed on it in the caption.” As she passed Belinda to get to the food, she carefully aimed her sister’s wand at the floor and urged the fighting outside to hurry up. |