Strange Visitors // Dorcas & Open
Days like this, no one seemed to like the precession that followed. Dorcas was forced to return to her homey little sector located in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement with dirt built up beneath the tips of her fingernails and bloodstain clinging to her cheeks. Though it was difficult to tell, it wasn’t her own. She exasperatedly tugged open a medium-sized drawer to reveal a dingy-looking towel, which she used to dab away the sweat and grime built up on her face. A large sigh protruded from her lips, and Dorcas traded in the dirty towel for a half-consumed bottle of scotch swirling around the bottom of the same drawer.
Though there was nothing more she wanted than to retreat to the safe barricades that were home for the night, her civic duty could not be ignored. Shuffling to one particular French Mustard yellow colored page of her case files, she poured herself an ample amount of the smoldering amber liquid and sat back in preparation for the long night ahead. Hit Wizard Headquarters was the quietest Dorcas had seen it in months. There wasn’t a semblance of a life echoing through the corridors, with the exception of a single glow emitting just the right amount of light from a fixture floating above her desk. She knew she was the only one left for the night, motivating her to work faster than she would during peak office hours.
As time passed, she finished her drink and began to pour another one. It seemed her brain was falling behind however, her body unable to register the simple muscle reflexes she was trying to send herself. Her mind was weighed down and cluttered by the violence of another long day and, though she knew her own delirium well, could not shake the feeling that something else was wrong. A bizarre siren suddenly flooded the adjacent room—green haze trickling in through the cracks in the ceiling and walls before she sprung to her feet—splattering ink across her desk and nearly toppling out of the chair she occupied in the process. Crippling darkness settled in again after the all too familiar silence was restored, but there was nothing peaceful about it. Dorcas could almost taste the beating of her own heart as nervousness swelled like a lump and took up residency in the back of her throat.
She could feel the scotch tightening its hold on her as she swiftly placed one foot in front of the other. Each step, she anticipated; carefully allocating every movement as she danced along the dark perimeter’s edge. Flexing her wand, Dorcas released a pent up breath of hot and heavy air before ejecting herself around the corner and positioning herself in the direction of what appeared to a shadowy silhouette. “Is there something I can help you with?” She cleared her throat, allowing her tone to drip through stone cold while subtle darkness shielded her cocked wand from this strange visitor’s view.
