InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Squirrels like nuts."

Iorek Byrnison (olim_et_futurus) wrote in refreshrpg,
@ 2015-07-17 00:08:00

Entry tags:

! log, 1998-july, x-character: claire rookwood, x-character: gabe ollivander

Who: Gabe Ollivander and Claire Rookwood (maybe Augustus later?)
What: Saving the Seer
Where: Ollivander house in Romania/Rookwood estate in Britain.
When: July 15th, after this
Rating: TBD
Status: Log. Incomplete.

In a darkened house, a single flickering flame lit a small room. Gabe sat on his bed, arms crossed over his knees, staring at the fire. Certain visions were harder to deal with than others. The information contained in them never came in a straightforward manner, or rarely did. Visions were rarely clear even if the image was. What Gabe did always experience was the emotions, feelings, and certain sensations. In visions like the one with the poisoning, or any deaths for that matter, he felt them die as he was dying as well. The war vision had nothing on ones of death. Physical, yet temporary pain subsided quickly in the mind, while being killed caused as much mental anguish as it did physical.

He knew Claire would show up. No words would change her mind, even if his parents were not off on a work trip. They were generally always on work trips because dragons did not stay still and trying to keep poachers away was difficult work. But Gabe wanted to be alone. If he was alone, no one could hear him cry. If he was alone, no one could judge him. He was too tired of the rumours that surrounded him to even bother scratching out his accidental entry on the magic network journal. A dumb mistake had been made and he did not have the energy to correct it.

Thoughts of the consequences were focused on what people would think of him and not on the danger such a vision might put him in. Gabe never thought about people trying to use him for his visions, only that they would think he was some freak because of the rarity of the gift and strange the idea. There were witches and wizards out there that thought divination was a bunch of bull, and Gabe did not want to be the person they pointed at to say it was not real.

He could still feel the poison running through his veins.

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afterrain
2015-07-17 09:40 pm UTC (link)

Claire was not an idiot. Moreover, she was not unfamiliar with the whims and moods of teenagers. She was well aware that Gabriel did not want to be scooped up and spirited home (and it was his home, or one of his homes, she told herself; he'd spent nearly as much time in her house as Lucas had since going to Hogwarts, and even before then he'd been a not-infrequent guest when his parents were off with the dragons and Grandfather too busy to care for a child.) He wanted to agonize and wallow alone, with no one to see or drag him out of it or make him talk about his experience. She knew that.

She did not particularly care.

Oh, if things had been different, she might have let him have his way, though she didn't particularly think she would have (because teenage wallowing was beneficial to no one, no matter what the adolescent in question thought.) At the least, she'd have spoken to his parents before acting, let them choose to collect him themselves or approve her desire to do the same. If he hadn't written about his vision publicly, or if it had been a different vision...

But it hadn't. He'd Seen a murder, one he'd all but blatantly attributed to the Lady Noir. If- when- it came to pass, people would want him. The Ministry. The Order. Lady Noir herself.

The Death Eaters.

No. Leaving him on his own was not an option, not today.

She'd been to the Ollivander house in Romania, of course. She could have gone to Grandfather's home and used his portkey, but it would have required explanations and delays she didn't fancy. Creating one of her own to land her just outside the grounds was far easier, and she blessed Augustus's new position as Department Head. It wasn't likely that anyone would notice the thing's creation, but if they did, it was always good to have legitimacy on one's side. And technically, she had legality on her side: if this was a Prophecy, made by a British Wizard, than she, as the Assistant (and heir apparent) to the Keeper of the Hall of Prophecies, had every right and reason to seek it out. The fact that the Seer was her cousin was incidental. Or, at least, she could excuse it as such if she was forced to.

The wards on the house didn't keep her out; she was an Ollivander, after all. She knew which bedroom Gave was likely to have taken, and she marched up, rapping twice on the door and pausing long enough to give the boy a chance to gather himself before opening it a crack.

"Gabe?" she called, voice far gentler than she felt. "I'm here. Can I come in?"

Of course she intended to do just that, whatever he said, but she'd allow him the illusion of a say in the manner and trust him to choose rightly rather than force the issue.

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olim_et_futurus
2015-07-18 12:16 am UTC (link)

The trouble with writing down his visions had made itself abundantly clear. Gabe was not always in the right state of mind to pay attention to which journal he picked up to write it down at. It took twenty minutes and four people replying to the entry for him to fully realize his mistake. That mistake took away everything he hid under.

Soft knocking broke his concentration on the flame in his room. Unknowningly he had been mumbling the same information over and over again. The image replayed in his head from various angles without giving him a single drop of information that would further help the poor victim. Visions always came true, it was the interpretation of it that made it seem like it would not or did not. Gabe wiped his eyes, feeling the cool air on the trails tears had left behind.

He furrowed his brow at the door. Had it been long enough for her to get a port key to the house? He knew she would not give him the choice to go back to London. He had told Gwen that he would be back, with that knowledge that Claire had the last say, but he still fought against it. Setting his chin back on his knees, he decided not to answer the door.

The door creaked open on its own. Behind the thin oak entrance to his room a small female house elf tapped the tip of her fingers together in worry. After letting Claire in, the little creature moved slowly around picking up the mess of his room. It looked as if a robbery happened. Blankets draped off the bed, half on the floor and forgotten. Both journals lay on the floor, one with pages ripped out and flung elsewhere in the meager room.

"I can't go..."

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afterrain
2015-07-18 01:38 am UTC (link)

Claire took in the mess of the room in one quick survey, gaze not lingering and expression not flickering. She'd had a long time and lots of practice in training herself to keep an appearance of calm no matter what.

"Gabriel," she said, firm, her voice as motherly as she could make it but brooking no argument. "You can and you must. I know you're upset. I know that this is awful. But I need you to trust me now, and come along. Please, Gabe."

He was coming whether he wanted to or not, but Claire much preferred that he came willingly.

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olim_et_futurus
2015-07-18 01:56 am UTC (link)

Long fingers moved through the dark curls of the tell tale Ollivander hair. His body did not move, but his glossy gaze shifted to Claire when she used his full name instead of Gabe. "We can't stop it." The statement went for so many things in the situation. The death could not be stopped, the visions could not be stopped, and Lady Noir would not be stopped either. Gabe did not consider his fate when all he ever saw was useless visions that would come true no matter what.

He attempted to swallow but his mouth was dry and his throat felt closed. The details of the kitchen speckled the ground in his mind's eye. "Everyone's going to be looking at me now. How can I face them? And Ernie... I don't want to speak with the Ministry." His hand tightened into a fist.

Ernie's reaction had made him angry. It felt like fifty questions smacked him in the face. Gabe had kept his visions as much of a secret as possible up until now. He was fine being seen as slightly off or shy. He was both of those things. Attention was not something he sought, he wanted to be ahead of the game so that he could side step their eyes on his oddity.

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