Jocelyn Lestrange (novus_jocelyn) wrote in novus_sceptrum, @ 2009-09-14 23:05:00 |
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Entry tags: | rating: pg-13, when: september 1999, who: jocelyn lestrange, who: rabastan lestrange |
Characters: Rabastan & Jocelyn Lestrange
Date: September 14, 1999 | late evening
Location: The Estate; Lenton Abbey
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Jocelyn returns home from work to find a letter from the Ministry awaiting her.
Status: In Progress | Closed
It had been an excessively long Monday at St. Mungo's. Today wasn't any more unusual than the days prior, but considering the hospital was painstakingly understaffed, Jocelyn had to deal with an insane workload. One would could never get used to the stress of having to forfeit not only personal breaks but lunch, especially on a shift that was meant to be no more than twelve hours but in fact stretched into nearly sixteen. If she hadn't loved the challenge so much, she would've put in her resignation long ago. However, this was life. She'd met with the Healer-in-Charge to discuss the possibility of moving to another floor. The Spell Damage Ward allowed their staff to have no more than four patients per Healer, the legal limit. That was three less patients than she'd had today. As tempting as the offer was, Jocelyn never had an easy time coping with change. While she was incredibly unhappy on the first floor (Creature-Induced Injuries), it was familiar. She didn't want to orientate herself to a whole new floor with new rules, different positions for the gear, etc.
After her 16-hour day was spent, she cleaned herself up in the staff locker room and changed into her posh, maroon velvet robe and made her way to the central floo network in the hospital. Within no time, she found herself back in the familiar lounge room, stepping out of the marble fireplace. "Has Rabastan eaten yet, Bernard?" she asked, slipping her robe off her shoulders and draping it over his arm as she made her way to the kitchens.
"No, Madam. Master Lestrange hasn't made it home from work this evening," the grey-haired servant responded, fluffing her robe over his arm before taking her sack containing the day's work robes. When Jocelyn turned to face him again, the man walked calmly over and handed her a thin envelope with the Ministry's seal on it.
"Thank you," she added cooly, hiding her irritation as she studied the post, then retiring upstairs to their bedroom. She changed once more, this time into her white, cotton bed robe before readying herself for bed. After cleaning all the makeup off her face and brushing her hair out, she returned to their large four-post bed, willingly throwing herself into the sinking mattress. She took the letter in her hands, studying the envelope once again. It didn't have Rabastan's usual seal on the outside, so she assumed it couldn't have been an explanation as to why he was late. Breaking the blood-red seal, she pulled out a lengthy parchment.
Only two sentences into the letter, she knew the exact nature of the post. She couldn't finish reading it, crumpling it slightly before tossing it back to the bed and forcing herself to stand again. She was tired, but still had a great deal of fight left in her that evening. Jocelyn was in no way interested in thinking about what they were requesting of her, not because she didn't want to but because her own personal endeavors were her own. She had enough pressure on her own behalf, and didn't need anything further from them. Walking to the fireplace in their quarters, she slipped her wand off the mantle. "Ignis," she mumbled, a spark lighting the firewood fully in one go. Slamming her wand down on the mantle again, she sat in the emerald armchair in silence, feeling defeated more than anything.