#how: thread

[vanityemmas-blog]

WHEN: June 18th, 00:21 WHERE: The Dungeon WHO: @ofamycus

Emma needed a drink. Actually, she needed more than just a drink, but multiple, quickly sliding down her desperate throat, hoping the sting of the liquor was enough to mask the sting of trying to hold in sobs and screams. She was an accessory to murder, now, and despite being the only one with all the pieces of the puzzle, she was too busy fretting the loss of her already stretched-to-the-max morals to realize the power that contained. She knew who delivered the deadly blow. She knew who ordered it. She knew who was to be punished for it. All these things, Tom Riddle knew, as well. But what he didn’t know was every word the police said. Every lead they blindly followed and every theory they conjured up, often at the direction of the results Emma placed upon their desks. She knew both worlds. The only missing piece, was why. Emma had a feeling she knew that, as well, though, for it was exactly what she feared would happen to her if she ever slipped up for even a second. It was the reason she could imagine herself in that chair, flailing as he did. Accepting fate as he did. Dying as he did.

She needed another drink. And another, and another. Until the room rocked and swayed with the music aand the jumbled letters of words she did not say clogged up her throat so that she could not scream or cry or break. Emma could never break. Another slosh of liquor sliding down her throat made the line between fine and not fine grow thinner. She wants to get lost in this crowd tonight; she wants to feel as if there aren’t two pairs of eyes harshly beaming down upon her from two different directions, and to feel a mere number in a sea of others was the ideal decision. The place was filled enough for her desires on this night, people surrounding her at the bar to the point where, had she been more sober, she might have fought them off. Now, she needed to be surrounded, no matter how alone she felt. Alone in a sea of others, trying to forget the evil she had become. Trying to forget all that pained her. Leaning against the dark wood of the bar away from a girl trying to convince the guy beside her to buy her a drink, Emma ran a hand through her hair, which surprisingly rested down over her shoulders tonight, and looked out to the crowd.

[vanityemmas-blog]

WHEN: June 16th, 1:12 WHERE: Borgin & Burke cellar WHO: @caputserpentis​

Emma Vanity has witnessed a murder. It’s not something most people should ever do in their lifetime – it wasn’t something Emma ever wished to do in her lifetime. Her morals had been stretched and stretched until their elasticity had reached its maximum and holes began to form in them like a piece of fabric fraying at the seams, and now she seemed lost in the sea of darkness, searching for air bubbles. It most certainly felt suffocating to watch someone take their last breath; Regulus had stopped breathing now, so what gave Emma the right to continue? She didn’t tear her eyes away, after all, pupils dilating as emotions flooded them, with fear and adrenaline taking the controls. She watched Regulus die. More to the point, she watched Rabastan kill him. It was hard to hear the final blow and the final gasping breath over the sound of her own heart rapidly drumming up into her ears. Her heartbeat sounded eerily like a gunshot.

Her breaths were short and shaky and gasping, as if there wasn’t enough air despite only two of the three bodies in the room now breathing it in. Her shoulders shook violently as she looked upon the boy who would move no more. He was not a child, no, but he was still a teenager, technically. She had made a stupid mistake at his age and it landed her here. He had made a stupid mistake and ended up dead. If Tom had assigned her this task for a specific reason, she got the message loud and clear: stay in line, or someone else will be cleaning her blood off the floors. She knew that was her task, now. Cleaning supplies and the evidence she was to plant sat off in the far corner of the cellar. Yet Emma could not find it in her to move, emotion paralyzing her, only allowing her to release the hot tears that welled up in her eyes. “Fuck,” she sobs out; her body wished to scream, but there was not enough air in her lungs. “Fuck! Rabastan!”

[vanityemmas-blog]

WHEN: June 13th, 8:34 WHERE: Knockturn Alley WHO: @atted

Of course Emma’s got to investigate the disappearance of a Black. There’s no reason why it wouldn’t be of the utmost priority to Operation Auror, though waiting two days to investigate scenes of interest was, in her opinion, a waste of time, with the exception of the home. The park was a waste of time with how many people had trudged through that same area in the three days since he was known to have been there, destroying most physical evidence while the weather ruined the rest. They’d have to impound his car from the alleyway, which was a whole other burden to Emma, plus there was no clue who or what might have touched the items they could potentially see as “evidence” when they got to this public space. Plus, she didn’t sleep well the night prior, so it was needless to say that Emma wasn’t in the greatest of moods.

Being the only member of Operation Auror on her team meant there wasn’t really a coordinated effort to drag all her shit to the scene, so those who arrived early likely would have seen Emma hauling a large duffel bag from her car. It wasn’t normally this heavy, which was one of the facts she mumbled under her breath through clenched teeth in frustration, but she had to ensure there were enough supplies for at least four people, three of which probably had no idea what the environment required. She was sure Daisy or Moody didn’t think to bring any crime scene equipment – they weren’t technically investigating crime scenes, after all, since they didn’t know where the crime had exactly occurred, but Emma knew measures needed to be taken to preserve physical evidence nonetheless. If they contaminated things, it wasn’t her fault (but was to the benefit of the ulterior motives she carried). 

She wasn’t going to give much attention to the figure approaching her where she crouched over the duffel until it was obvious he was approaching her. Emma had fully prepared to stand and tell the guy off for interrupting a police investigation until she recognized the personal style of the clothing he wore and stood to find herself faced with an even more familiar face. “Thank god it’s you,” she greeted, obviously relieved to see Ted stepping up to volunteer. Her friend had never seen her on the job, but he had seen the stress that came from it (as well as other things), and yet he still stuck by her, listening to her emotions and never for a second acting as if they were invalid. She wondered what she did to deserve that, to deserve him. “Ready to get into the action? You’ll finally get to see me at work after all these years.”

[vanityemmas-blog]

WHEN: June 11th, 10:18 WHERE: Operation Auror HQ WHO: @dci-daisy

It was just another day at work, Emma tried to remind herself. Sure, one of the Black heirs was missing and it was now her job to help find where he is and who might have done it, but it was just another case and just another job and just another day regardless of the names and titles and fortunes of those involved. She could feel the pressure sinking down upon her shoulders with how monumental this case was to both sides she worked for. Still, there was nothing Emma could do but square off her shoulders, pull them back, and carry the load as gracefully as she could. 

Only, Emma had never been graceful.

Thankfully, if she faltered, it was not in ways so monumental that it would oust her to her team, but rather she only faltered to keep her emotions in check. She’d never been good at it, and what made anyone think she ever could have been? She grew up hearing insult after insult, no matter who it was directed at. Outburst after outburst, screaming matches with her mother turning Emma to sobbing fits with clenched fists that never seemed to form tight enough. Emotional control never existed in her upbringing, and so there was none to be found now – especially not when the IR was broken for the third time this month. “Fuck!”

Okay, so thankfully, the IR wasn’t broken, but the software wasn’t working, and it was a pain to reboot everything. Emma was really hoping someone would have thought to just have the instrument company install new software, but that was above her responsibilities and seemingly the responsibilities of everyone around her, and so, she was stuck in her frustration. Her rant went on past the one exclamation likely heard by a few others in the department, until her gloves had been stripped from her hands so they could tensely run through her hair and her footsteps paced so harshly the glassware on one of the shelves rattled with small clinks and Daisy Hookum appeared in the doorway. Emma looked up to notice the other woman, stopping immediately in her tracks. Part of her hoped this was about fixing the IR and part of her hoped this was about anything but. “What,” she demanded.

[vanityemmas-blog]

WHEN: June 11th, 20:21 WHERE: Operation Auror HQ WHO: @bigassmoody

Late nights at work often required coffee or tea to get through – only, Emma wasn’t allowed such luxuries in the lab. Food or drink weren’t permitted in an area where they could easily contaminate evidence or be contaminated themselves by whatever gross items came into Emma’s possession, and while the opportunity to spill coffee all over a stained t-shirt was tempting in the quest to destroy certain pieces of evidence, it was much too careless for someone like Emma, who obviously knew much better than that. Instead, she allowed her frustration to fuel her, and it grew by the minute with the increasing headache the microscope was giving her. Of-fucking-course they didn’t have the budget to get her the one that plugs into a computer, instead.

At least looking at fibers wasn’t as boring as it sounded. While she still would rather be home than staring at the little red strings, the way the colors danced under polarized light was a break from the boring, and she became entranced for a brief moment before blinking away the harsh light to scribble some notes about how a few of the fibers weren’t changing color the same way as the others, suggesting they were of different composition. Her thought process was interrupted by a presence in the doorway, however, causing Emma to sigh. “What do you want, Moody,” she called, not even having to look up from her sample to know it was him. His footsteps gave him away, as did most people on the team – with her head so often down in her work, Emma had learned to tell people apart by their gait. Plus, Moody wasn’t exactly a subtle person, and she knew he wanted her to acknowledge his presence. It’s what came after she did that she would likely dread.

[vanityemmas-blog]

WHEN: June 15th, 20:57 WHERE: Emma’s Apartment WHO: @caputserpentis​

He’s just a kid was her immediate thought when the message was received. He’s not much older than you were when you stepped foot in this world, and he showed you no mercy, either, followed it. The man that contacted her to perform this task felt for no one, it seemed. Not her mother. Not her. Not Regulus. And now it seemed that very man wished to remind her that he was always watching, a firm hand placing more pressure upon her shoulder. It made the light objects submitted to her feel immensely heavy. A piece of paper. A lock of hair. A ring. All to cover his own ass with the ability to expose hers. 

While the evidence didn’t give any significant leads, there was a haunting feeling as she left for the day, one that overtook the stressed-out feelings of having her superiors disapprove of the lack of leads she could provide them. What if they found out it wasn’t the Order who wrote the note? While she wasn’t the note’s author, she knew the man who was could throw her under the bus at a moment’s notice, all to save himself and those he truly protected. Away from him, she could imagine he’d do it, just like he threw her mother to the wolves. He only cared about what others could do for him, and if it came down to it, the evidence Emma could eliminate was not worth as much as his entire operation being brought down by a kidnapping and a ransom note. In his presence, she couldn’t imagine he’d do such a thing, but without his grip on her mind and only his grip applying pressure to her weighted shoulders, she could imagine the feeling of losing it all, her grip upon life slipping through sweat-slicked palms.

She needed an alibi, and fast. These thoughts had plagued her for far too long, making her dinners taste blander and television seem less comical and sleep being harder and harder to attain. Now, she began to craft stories carefully, but not too carefully, not with enough detail as to make others suspicious. She didn’t know why her own coworkers would suspect her in the first place, but sleeping among snakes made you fear everyone carried venom in their fangs, and if they didn’t, that they could coil about you when you least expected it. And speaking of least expected, Emma certainly didn’t plan for a visitor as the buzzer to her unit sounded off. On-edge, she nearly jumped from her own skin at the sound and the immediately accompanying thought of who was at the door and what they possibly knew about her involvement. There was some relief to see it was one of the few people allowed to know of her involvement, but that relief didn’t last for long, followed by a resurgence of worry at the chaos that threatened to unravel any last shred of ease she had as she checked to see who it was. “Rabastan? What the fuck are you doing?” she asked, confused as all hell. Still, she buzzed him in, fearing what others might think if they saw him lingering outside a place like this.

[vanityemmas-blog]

WHEN: June 14th, 18:37 WHERE: Mendokoro Ramen WHO: @emboldens

It’s not the first thing Emma needs this week, but it’s also certainly not the last. The plans were made before all this Regulus shit brought a swirling storm of chaos to her world (she thinks – the past week had been such a swirling storm that all the days blurred into one inseparable timeline), and there wasn’t much of a thought to cancel them. Emma didn’t want to cancel them. Besides, it was probably good to step away from her work and get a taste of a normal life for a few hours, plus the taste of ramen and the inside of someone else’s mouth. 

Only, it would be good to step away if she hadn’t been rushing to get to the address she’d been given. Rushing was also not exactly the right choice of word, when what she was really doing was sitting in traffic and cursing whoever invented cars and roads and roundabouts and lights and whatever else caused her to be late. It wasn’t like first impressions were her strong suit, but it wouldn’t hurt to be on time, at the very least. Thankfully, there wasn’t much pressure going into this. Both parties had expressed their desire for nothing serious to come from this, and it was obvious they were two souls looking for a bit of company for the evening – and Emma certainly needed the stress-relieving kind. She didn’t even know much about her date, save for a few facts not mentioned in her Tinder bio and the notion that she must have been fond of this place to recommend it so quickly when the idea of grabbing dinner was brought up.

Thankfully, she also knew what she looked like, and it wasn’t hard to spot Marlene among the dinner crowd, a beauty nobody in the room could really compare to. There was no use in attempting to soften her look, and Emma never truly hid from being anything but her authentic self, even when that was not the most pleasant thing, as she’d learned growing up. But there was a slight huff of tension that left her body upon approaching the table and running a hand through her hair, and she still held some semblance of manners and apologized as she sat down. “Sorry, traffic was a fucking nightmare.” The key word in that last sentence was some. This was always the odd part, trying to strike up a conversation with someone you only know through suggestive texts and an app where you see what they believe to be their best photos and maybe a song off Spotify that they like. “This place looks amazing,” was what she settled on. She didn’t hold too much creativity, she was afraid.