v (vesta) wrote in disorderic, @ 2018-03-17 22:04:00 |
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Entry tags: | hestia jones |
WHO: Hestia Jones, Natalie Tan Jones, and Deborah the assisstant.
WHAT: Not the greatest news.
WHEN: March 17th, a few hours after this.
WHERE: Natalie Tan Jones’ office at Tan Jones Investments. .
WARNINGS: Slight violence.
”Ms. Tan Jones — Natalie!” Natalie jerked her head up from the case file she was staying late to go over, giving her assistant a shrivelling look. “Deborah, I told you not to bother me right now, I want to go home as soon as possible. And I know you do too.” She looked back down to the paperwork, but Deborah didn’t leave. In fact, she moved closer, wringing her hands together. “Natalie, it’s your daughter.” Natalie looked up again, this time the ire replaced with open panic. “Which one? Hemera, Hestia —” she asked, pushing herself out of her chair and pressing her fingertips into the wood of her desk. “It’s Hestia, she just — she won’t leave, she says she has to talk to you now,” Deborah stage whispered, and Natalie sunk back into her seat with a roll of her eyes. Honestly, that girl and her dramatics. “Tell her I’ll drop by when I’m done,” she said, waving a hand to dismiss Deborah. The assistant turned around to try and get Hestia to leave once more, but the daughter in question simply muscled her way past her, muttering a ‘sorry Debbie’ as she all but picked up the slight worker bee and placed her to the side. Natalie looked up once more, ready to be angry, but the look on her daughter’s face was enough for her to realise that something was actually wrong. “Deborah, leave us. Hestia, what’s wrong?” She walked over to Hestia, who hadn’t moved much passed the threshold, and shut the door behind her assistant. “Mum, it’s Hemera. There was a Dark Mark over her house and I went over and…” she trailed off, an annoying stray tear rolling down her cheek. The look on Natalie’s face told Hestia that she knew what was coming next, but she had to say it. “Hemera’s dead.” Natalie Tan Jones was never left speechless. She was never rattled. She had a will more iron than any others. But at news at the death of her firstborn, her heart felt as if it stopped and she put a hand to her chest, aghast, speechless. But that didn’t last long. Soon her eyes iced over and she straightened up, adjusting her blouse. “We are going to find the persons responsible for this and l — make them pay,” Natalie said evenly, as if she was reporting news of rain. Hestia stared at her mother, barely breathing. “No, mum, we’re not doing anything. I’m going to take care of this. You need to go to a safehouse.” “Excuse me, Hestia? I am not hiding in one of our safehouses while you take point on this. God knows you’re not ready for that.” Hestia quashed her frustrations and took her mother gently by the shoulders, staring in her eyes. “Not a Tan Jones safehouse. One provided by the Order of the Phoenix.” She thought of the turquoise and onyx in her pocket, looking to them — and their provider — to get her through this. Natalie laughed, a strangled noise. “What are you talking about, Hestia?” “Mum, I’m… I’m in the Order.” Whatever Hestia expected, it was not what happened next. Natalie Tan Jones slapped her younger — and only, now — daughter across the face, rage filling every line of her own face. “This is your fault!” she shouted as Hestia held the side of her face, tears stinging the corner of her eyes as she reeled from surprise and pain. “Mum, I —” but she was cut off by Natalie holding up one finger and narrowing her eyes, a tactic she’d perfected when the girls were young. “I don’t want to see your face for the next 72 hours. Get out of here.” Hestia knew better than to argue. Not allowing the tears to come, she turned right around and walked through the door and past Deborah’s desk without saying a word, apparating back to Tinworth as soon as she was past the wards. |