#emmeoutofline

[auror-frank]

Wounds Revisited

House of Bones / Order Headquarters 26 March 1982, Evening @emmeoutofline​

Had Frank not been the one to tell Isla of her cousin’s death, perhaps he would have gotten taken care of more quickly—between Skimble, his mother, and Alice, he wasn’t sure how much more he could continue avoiding going to an actual Healer. The cut was deep, that was already certain when Sirius first dragged him home, but Frank had been in denial about it healing.

Perhaps Frank would have been aware sooner that the Emmeline at headquarters now wasn’t the same one who had taken care of his previous fight injury—had he not been occupied with counting the dead and searching for the maskless. As if that would give him any real closure, but was worth a try.

He didn’t think that hanging out around the Bones’s was a great way to spend his Friday night, but it had been long enough that he just had to cave—in spite of the fact that he had promised Emmeline the last time that he wouldn’t get hurt.

“Emmeline? I know that—you know, I told you I wouldn’t get my arm sliced off again?” It was hard to be humorous about the whole thing. “I tried using that charm and some leftover herb for it, but I don’t think it’s the same cut. I have no idea what those Death Eaters are working with.”

[benjyfenwiick]

Date: February 17th, 1982 Location: Potter Estate, Library @emmeoutofline​

Benjy was called to the Potter Estate by Emmeline - urgent matters to discuss, apparently. But, when he’d gotten here, she just wanted to make sure he knew the techniques and theory behind splinching, as they’ve had several recently. It was all rather boring to Benjy. He preferred the on the job training, even if he knew this other stuff was important, too.

He found his mind wandering accidentally as Emmeline explained something, twirling his wand between his fingers.  “You really think someone read all these books?” he said to Emmeline, not realizing if he had cut her off or not. “I don’t think anyone could read this much in their lifetime, do you?”

He looked back at her and eyes widened a bit. “Ah, yes! The, uh, theory. Assess first, then... dittany? Wait no... Mente Unoque Consilio first. Then dittany.” The Knit-Skin Spell - that had to be right, didn’t it?

[bristlybranwen]

notes

Location: Letters from Farm / Estate Time: 14th - 15th of February Status: Closed, for @emmeoutofline

14th of February, about half an hour after the death of James Potter.

Cicero, the Order’s great Horned owl flew inside the house and halted sharply on a table right before Emmeline, a letter in his beak. It was neither sealed nor in an envelope. Just a scrap of paper with blood on it.

Em.Va.,

Big battle at the party. Don’t know what happened but keep yourself ready for wounded. Am at the Farm, gonna take care of those coming here and apparate the badly injured ones to you. Send me the minor inj., I got it.

Taking orders if needed.

Br.Ya.

[untamedmeadowes]

Going For The Face

@emmeoutofline

Dorcas cursed as she fumbled her exit from the floo, toes catching on the hearthstones and sending her down hard onto her knees and then her shoulder as she rolled, trying to keep her hands held tight to her chest and away from the floor. She succeeded only partially and swore again, a long and fluent mixture of childish epithets and eye-watering vulgarity.

Her own eyes were watering as she clambered to her feet, the typically easy motion made grueling by the fact that today she was doing it hands-free. Muttering under breath at herself, at treacherous fireplaces, and at the idiot responsible for her current state, she limped down the hallway toward the sitting room that had been converted to a makeshift infirmary long before Dorcas Meadowes herself had joined the Order of the Phoenix.

“Emmeline, are you -- ouch -- you there?” Dorcas asked hopefully, shouldering the door open and poking her untidy head inside. The other witch had an actual job after all (and not one that she could flake-off from the way Dorcas did her parents’ bookshop) and Dorcas had no idea what hours the Healer worked at St. Mungo’s nor when she was regularly found here instead -- while injuries were not uncommon for Dorcas Meadowes, paying attention to schedules was. When she indeed spotted the older witch inside, she sagged with relief -- and promptly winced as the motion jostled her wand-hand against her chest.

“I uh...I need some help, if you’ve got a minute?” Dorcas said, walking over and extending her hands for inspection -- both bloody, although the left was in worse shape than the right. It sported only split knuckles while the former was swollen and bent in a way that nearly screamed broken bones to even a casual glance. There was more blood smeared across her cheek, although that looked like it had been deposited when she’d shoved her wand behind her ear for temporary safekeeping -- not the best way to carry the thing, especially through the floo, but she had been more focused on grabbing it and running than on stowing it securely when she’d pushed it in there. Her tangled curls were helpful, at least: with them knotted around its shaft, that wand wasn’t going anywhere.

[auror-frank]

Wounds Reopened

closed for @emmeoutofline​ 19 February 1982 at the Healer’s Quarters, Potter Estate

It made no sense for Frank to be here, but it made less sense for anyone to be around. Even if Ainsley hadn’t given away the location yet, someone was bound to. Frank was careful not to talk to anyone who wasn’t in the Order—and when he had to, his mind stayed on the Rosier Estate. That was the business that he was officially supposed to be dealing with.

Frank could still come and go like he had before, and the place was no longer just casually empty. Sure, everyone had their own business to deal with during the day, but with the loss of the homeowner, it didn’t seem like much of a stretch to assume that people just avoided coming here.

That didn’t mean that Frank hadn’t picked up the habit of stopping by after work to check and see if there had been anything that happened. If there were more witnesses. More people to try to get the story straight, more information that Frank could gather that could help them. As far as he was aware, the amount of help was not much—the last time he had come, he cut himself on a hedge and gotten help with a minor injury, which didn’t seem to be so minor anymore.

“Sorry, is Benjy here? He helped me with a cut I had before—but it’s opening up again…” Frank peeked his head through the door of the Healer’s Quarters. Usually at St. Mungo’s he’d be able to see the same Healer again, and Frank had hoped that Benjy had just used the wrong potion, and that it wasn’t something worse.

[bristlybranwen]

Yahoo me - Emmeline (Thanks, Sims, for making that sound dirtier than it's meant)

Emmeline and Bran’s eyes opened to the realisation of what they’re were doing right now pretty much at the very same time. Opened wide.  

Their bodies froze before they hastily drew apart from the hug. Bran cleared her throat loudly, drowning out any other awkward attempts for either of them to speak about what had just happened.

“Yes, well.”

“Anyway.”

“Yes.”

“Well done, is what-,”

“Indeed. Yahoo, and shit.”

“Yes.”

“Back to work.”

“Back to work.”