eglantine bulstrode has her thorns (poisons) wrote in raveled, @ 2017-04-17 13:41:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! decade: 1980s, ! log, allegra zabini, eglantine bulstrode |
WHO: Tina Bulstrode and Allegra Zabini
WHAT: Two bored witches take a deliberate wrong turn on a hospital tour
WHEN: 1980, after Allegra's return from abroad
WHERE: St Mungo's
WARNINGS: None significant
"Now, if you'll follow me this way, we'll be able to take a look at the new floor tile placed in the Spell Damage Ward. We're very grateful to the Witches' Institute for providing the funds, which have allowed us…" Allegra stifled a yawn and snuck a glance at the chunky wristwatch sandwiched between a pile of gold bangles on one thin wrist. Events like this were the price she had to pay for trying to reintegrate back into her preferred strata of British society, but the St. Mungo's renovation tour had dragged on far past the time she had mentally allotted for it (one hour and fifteen minutes). And despite the fact that she was dressed all in black, the pretense of mourning her late husband was going to start wearing thin. Slipping past Narcissa with an apologetic smile—grief could be a useful excuse for erratic behavior, at least for another few months—Allegra broke away from the group as they turned down a corner, and nearly collided with another woman also turning the wrong way. It was a face she could just place (too young for school, maybe just from life?), but a moment later, recognition dawned. "Ah, Miss Bulstrode. Tina. I was just… er, where were you headed?" Tina took Madam Zabini's hand, "Just off to the loo. It's this way, let me just show you," she suggested, in case someone else lagging was listening. "My brother's a healer here, so I know the way." Tina's eyes sparkled and she grinned conspiratorially as she led Allegra out of sight and earshot of the crowd of ladies, younger and older, who were following the tour. Another turn round a corridor took them far enough from the guide from the hospital and the rest of the crowd of do-gooders that Tina felt safe to, if not speak her mind, at least roll her eyes in exasperation and express her relief. "Morgana and Circe, we're well out of that. I don't think there's enough Pepper-Up in the hospital stores to revive us if we keep listening to the sleep-inducing talk about tiles and donations. If you're planning on staying, you'll learn to dodge out of those things too. Mum says we must be seen to do them, but that doesn't mean we have to stay the whole way. We'll pick them back up on their way back down, if it's all the same to you." Allegra let out a relieved laugh. "I used to be better. Honestly I've been, ah, out of the country just long enough to forget how terrible these obligations are. I can't say if I admire those who can sit through another speech about paint colors... I think it's English genetics. But you're a potioneer, right? Is there a separate tour for behind the scenes work?" "I was thinking more of wandering back to the staff break room and having a smoke," Tina said with a quirk of an eyebrow that was the only break in her otherwise deadpan expression. "I've got the passphrase since my brother's on staff--technically I'm not, but I can show you round a bit if you'd like to know a bit about the potions side of things. I have a number of professional contacts here, and they know I'm good for exotics, so they trust me with things they wouldn't let most civilians handle." Tina looked Allegra up and down, considering the rumours she's heard. The inconveniences Allegra had lived with. Was no longer living with. "It seems like the sort of thing that might interest you." There was no judgement in her tone. Allegra grinned. "With such a generous offer, how could I possibly think of refusing?" She followed Tina down a maze of halls and stairs, past more than a couple sleep-deprived Healer trainees, and finally to a blank stretch of wall. "I'm sure being more of an independent contractor has its benefits, that—" she inclined her head towards a woman, almost dozing on a bench "—being one of them." "Or the lack of that." Tina had seen more than one Healer dead asleep on their feet over the years. "Really, and no offence to the junior staff, you'd think they'd either issue more stimulants or just acknowledge that there are points past which wizarding endurance runneth not. I'm all for cultural continuity, but halfway killing your Healers before you finish training them makes no sense. Never has. Just because every Healer in the previous generation survived it doesn't mean we should continue to do it that way." Tina sighed and uttered the passphrase to the wall, which obligingly revealed its door to her. Pushing it open, she added, "Of course if you're going to laze about in a hospital bed instead of going home to let your house elf care for you, I suppose that's the chance you take." "True enough," Allegra glanced around the break room and the hallways branching off, where more Healers sat on couches drinking tea or talked in low voices over floating charts. A couple acknowledged Tina with nods or smiles. "Though not all elves are created equal, honestly. Mine is such a hypochondriac. Sometimes a sneeze is just a sneeze." She took in the wall of posters, some listing safety reminders, others eyeroll-inducing slogans (Spattergoit: hard to say, easy to cure!). "This is certainly a better tour. How frustrated are the Healers and hospital potioneers by all the regulations on experimental treatment?" Tina's voice lowered a little, since this was a bit of a controversial subject. "Like everything else, it's divided. Liberals are in favour of massive safety testing, as if we can make potions truly safe, or any aspect of magic that works on the body. I mean, we're all doing our best but there are never any guarantees, since so much depends on the quality of the practitioner." Tina shrugged. "Those of us who understand that practice is an art rather than a science are mostly on the side of increased freedom. Some patients are willing to live with the risk, especially those working with top-notch Healers and potioneers." Tina looked over the break room tea: decent stuff since one of the women's organisations (she thought) had donated recently so they didn't have to have swill. "Would you like a cup and how do you take yours?" "Ah, thank you. Just lemon if you have it." Allegra sat down at a more secluded, glancing at the multitude of clocks around the room for one that actually told the time. The precious minutes until the Witches' Institute tour would be back were numbered. "It's always funny when—" voice low as well, she waited for Tina to set the cups down "—it's the so-called liberal wing pushing to regulate our lives so much more, no? But… I imagine you've found enough of a community to support your, ah, art. I would certainly be interested in getting more involved." Tina, who had been on more variants of this tour than she could remember, was also eyeing the clocks. "That's very kind of you, Madam Zabini. I'll be sure to mention that to those in our social circle who support private studies. They'd be happy to welcome you to their company." It was the sort of oblique double-language she'd become accustomed to using when they were really talking about political affiliation. Then the rumours she'd heard clicked, and Tina added, "I'd be happy to show you around my own greenhouse sometime, if you'd like. You might find it interesting." After all, a lady could never have too many ways to dispose of an unwanted suitor, even if Tina herself never used such means. She handed a cup to Allegra and poured her own. "I think I would find that interesting." Allegra's lips curved into a smile as she considered that new world of possibilities over the rim of her teacup. Duty would call them back to the foyer with the others shortly, but at least the afternoon had been fruitful in one respect. "In fact... I might go as far as to say it's a tour where I wouldn't try to disappear!" |