Regulation and Control

Who: Romilda Vane and Pen Borage
Where: A burning building in London
When: Tuesday 17th June
What: Romilda tends to fall into incidents of breaking wild magic. Pen comes to get her before they're both roasted alive.
Rating: It might be G rated. I am so ashamed.
Status: Closed, complete

"Sometimes," Pen said as she landed in the middle of the building, her eyes instantly searing a blazing red from the flames that engulfed the figure ahead. "I really wish I'd stuck with the whole childminding thing I started when I was twelve. It would have been a bit easier." Her hand gripped her wand as she shot a spray of water, accidentally hitting the woman rather than the fire, her vision so blurred by the smoke that it was making it difficult to aim. Which meant, she realized as she shot another burst off, that she wouldn't be able to Apparate either.

"That you, Romilda?" she called as she blinked again. The tears were streaming down her face as she choked the words out, covering her face with a sleeve. The shielding spells weren't working. This had to be wild magic indeed.

( I think I'm the 'grab you and get the bloody hell out' squad and thus far, it doesn't quite look to be working out that way. )

Who: Romilda Vane and Harry Potter
What: Someone who is a genius sends two rookies to Milton Keynes, most soulless town in England, to find out what happened to cause an outbreak of wild magic in a whorehouse. In an office park. Featuring Bolivian Marching Powder, Cthulu Building, talking emus, Harry's Smirking Self-Confidence, and a number of odd and unusual sideshow freaks, including a pile of prostitutes glued together and succubi, to say nothing of incredibly witty banter as Harry and Romilda, wizards with A Past, fight said succubi and end the evening by blowing up the building and going to Wales for a drink.
Where: Milton Keynes; later, Cardiff
When: Sometime in 2001
Rating: R just to be safe. Some really disturbing visuals and a whole lot of crack. Plus, drug use and language.
Status: Closed, complete.


She tapped her wand against her leg as she looked at the office building her orders had sent her to, and considered whether the scuttlebutt was right about who she was meeting.

Scuttlebutt had an irritating tendency to be right at the least convenient moments, but she had to hope that she wasn't being sent to meet Potter.

Not because she couldn't measure up to his reputation. Not because she'd been caught by age and inclination and therefore unable to make a stand - on either side - during the last phase of the war. Not because she was embarrassed about what she'd done in fourth year. Not even because she was new to the Regulators and she was off to meet everybody's darling for the first time in years.

But because what she'd done hadn't worked.

By the merest chance, true, but it still hadn't, and that failure rankled like nothing else. Romilda was not accustomed to failure, and she'd had no intention to ever become accustomed to it, either, thank you very much.

Life, of course, had had other plans, and she'd finally started to learn to accept defeat by chance with grace, but there was nothing else she would take lying down, not so long as she had the ability to stand and deliver on what she'd decided was hers.

And Harry Potter wasn't hers, but he also wasn't anyone she cared about having hers. She just didn't want him to think her a poor-quality, unskilled witch, and after the chocolates, he probably did.

( They put me on a mission with succubi because my testicles are actually tangerines. )

( Owl to Weasley )

Who: Romilda Vane and Draco Malfoy
Where: Right by Draco's desk
When: June 11, daytime
What: They're colleagues. Sort of. Romilda has a superiority complex to keep up, so she'll probably fall on her face verbally in about ten seconds.
Notes: This is a repost of an rp that was started before the hiatus. We're reposting and going on with it, this time to actually complete it!
Status: Closed, incomplete.

"The miracle has ended," Romilda muttered as she leaned on the wall near Malfoy's desk, near enough that she'd see him come back, far enough that she didn't look like she was waiting for him. She added a few other choice phrases, but all were even quieter, though no less annoyed.

Seven bloody years. It was going to be such a sad tradition to miss, that old one of ignoring Malfoy. But there were times that one needed a partner who didn't immediately leap for a wand and blow something up - and whatever Potter said, Romilda sometimes did not do that herself - and now that Dursley was gone, Malfoy was the next most likely suspect.

She couldn't feel strange about Dursley's death, she was too busy feeling strange about being the one to find him, and how weird all that had felt.

But she'd run out of Muggles, at least for the moment, so it was going to be Draco if she wanted to have someone to actually talk to while shit went down, and Romilda had to admit that that sort of Muggle telly part of the job was really the best one. Everyone needed to have their life be like a John Woo movie, or at least like an X-Men comic, all witty banter, dodging bullets, and winning in the end.

Consequently, when Draco came back, she was grinning.

( I suppose demonic is an added bonus. )

Who: Romilda Vane and Harry Potter
Where: Grimmauld Place
When: April 17, immediately after Romilda finds Dudley's body
What: Romilda gets to bring Harry the bad news.
Warnings: Probably.
Status: Closed, incomplete.

Romilda knocked on the door of Grimmauld Place, too aggravated by Dursley's death that she didn't even consider just opening the door. Part of her pointed out that that had gone really well the last time she'd tried it, and maybe doing it again wouldn't be just as bad, but there was also that not-quite-thinking that death - any death, violent or otherwise - brought on, and she was learning that it was about ten times worse if you had found the body.

This didn't look to be the most fun she was going to ever have in this job, but with luck it might only be the worst.

Her laugh at that thought was hollow.

( Owl to Quentin Trimble )

( Owl to Harry Potter )

Who: Romilda Vane and Dudley Dursley
Where: Dudley's flat
When: Friday, April 18, evening
What: Romilda witnesses a murder
Rating: PG (but character death is involved)
Status: Closed; complete

"I said I didn't mean it-" Dudley blubbered as he crouched against the wall of his flat. His hands were scratching at the walls blindly as the figure stood in front of him, wand pointed at his body. Sweat was dripping off his pores so strongly that a stench filled the room, his hands smearing salt and dirt against the paint. Sunlight flooded the room, blinding him with its brilliance so that he couldn't see the man's shape. He blinked harder, trying not to cry. Harry wouldn't've cried. It wasn't the comfort it had been once. "I'll take it - I'll bloody take it back - I swear-"

( ...this was a fellow Regulator down... )

( Owl to dear Doctor Goldstein )

Who: Romilda Vane and Dudley Dursley
What: Dudley and Romilda are sent out to investigate a soul-eating dog.
When: March 31, 2008, late afternoon
Where: Scamander Park, then who knows?
Rating: TBD
Status: Closed; in progress
Notes: Er, Cass, if you don't like this start, I'll change it. But it's late and I think I've owed you this start for a week now soooo....

"Oi! Vane!" Dudley went banging into the woman's office, kicking the door open with a lazy toe as he ambled in. He thought he heard something in the distance - an alarm clock ticking, perhaps - but in a blink, the sound had disappeared and there she was, staring up at him as if he had spilled lunch on his shirt.

Of course, he had but he thought he'd done a decent enough job of mopping it up. At least the bits were gone. Too bad he'd had the yellow curry.

"I've an assignment," he said, fumbling for the paper and finally handing it over. "Soul eating dog or summat, over in Bath. I don't suppose... you could Apparate me there?" He fully expected her to say no. After all, he'd barely even spoken to the woman. Mostly tried to stay out of her way - he hated women who looked like they could bite your head off or snap your neck between their legs. He rather suspected Romilda was the sort. Then again, he suspected that of all female Regulators. It seemed to go with the territory.