Margaret Ramona Summerby (rockingramona) wrote in flippedrpg, @ 2012-05-13 23:51:00 |
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It had been a while since she'd talked to anyone, much less half the people she'd spoken to through these odd journals, which were now counting down to something. Her flying professor was there, decades younger than she'd been when Ramona had left school. Tonks, thankfully, was in tact, being merely a month behind--but she had a son. And a couple days ago, that would've been laughable. Now, facing down the past and the future and alternative universes.. all of these things were confusing and conflicting. The poor chap next door had been in Azkaban for stealing magic, which wasn't exactly something she was sure was possible. How did one steal magic? All of these things, all of the questions, and the pamphlet's endless information, swirled in her head, causing one of the worst headaches she'd had in months. And for once, since rehab and group, she decided maybe she'd just check out the bar in Kappa. That's where Tonks had said it was, anyway. And she wouldn't actually get a drink, right? She'd just ... acknowledge its presence. Take a look. Make the choice not to get anything. Walk away. Before long, she was there, standing in Kappa, facing down the beast: staring at her addiction in the face and deciding what she wanted. Kappa was nice, in actuality, but she remained grateful that the scientist who had chosen her had not put her in the situation that she would have to confront constantly. Kappa was close--in the same tower even--but it wasn't forcing anything down her throat. Still, Ramona stared at the bar, trying to listen for Cynthia's knowing voice in her head. Addictions were vices they didn't need. Addictions controlled them. Addictions made terrible decisions for them. Think of all the work they'd done--overcoming pills and potions and alcohol. Think of all the work she'd have to do all over again for a sip of whatever was stocked. Ramona stood there for a while, playing with her hair frustratedly, sweeping it out of her face and up into a messy ponytail at the back of her head before reaching into her pocket for the pack of cigarettes, which prompted her to tap out one and light it with the lighter which she'd pulled out of her back pocket. The inhale brought a dizzying kind of relief before she took a few solemn steps back from the bar. Maybe the hospital had something for a headache. Or at least something to avoid this kind of confrontation again. She sighed, dangling the cigarette out of the side of her mouth as she fixed her hair for the fourth time, watching a few people as they walked past on her right, acknowledging them with a nod of her head. |