WHO: Peony Parkinson, mentions of Angelus, Lumos, Birdie (and Andy ;_;) WHAT: Peony does not always enjoy her job. WHEN: 24th January, evening/night [backdated to after this] WHERE: Various WARNINGS: Blood and gore. References to murder.
“Don’t answer it,” Angelus had advised when her phone ran. But Peony, who had some leeway due to her blood and politics, still had a Death Eater boss with none in her family to serve as some sort of buffer as the eldest Rosier did. She answered the summons. She replaced her coat and shoes, reapplied her lipstick. She Flooed to the Ministry, where she met Lumos and the loud American hitwitch at the designated spot.
She travelled with them to the coordinates, the scent of Turkish food mingling with a street that otherwise didn’t smell overly different to anywhere in the magical world, as much as she liked to tell herself that Muggles were filthy and wasteful in keeping with their baseness and the planet they were destroying for everyone else. She followed Proudfoot down the street, her heels clicking rhythmically as she slid her wand out of her sleeve.
Then the scent of Turkish tangling with something else. Then the white of bone, surrounded by reddened flesh spilling out and the blood—so much blood.
Peony thudded against the ground, coming to only with the feel of Lumos’s hand on her shoulder and the mutterings of Proudfoot as she siphoned away the last of the mess.
* * *
Several hours and three showers later, she sat pressed against her headrest, arms locked around her silk clad knees and Lady against her side. The dog’s presence aside, she was still chilled to the bone. Bone and blood
(No, don’t think. You mustn’t.)
But how could she not? Who knew at this point what Andy Smudgely had done, but whatever it had been, it wasn’t enough for this. Not enough, and yet far too much.
This was why she remained on the good side of them. This was why everyone who did not was a fool, and reminders like this happened. And yet they would need to be told again and again and again until when she did finally sleep, her dreams would be seeped with red. A deluge which she had to, she must, float within.
This was easy. When caught in a strong current, you swam with the tide, not against it. This was how to survive.
The problem was at this moment, it did not feel quite so easy…