DATE: 16 may 1945
TIME: 02.13
LOCATION: underground tunnel
AVAILABILITY: open
The world above had fallen silent, and the world below was drowning in white noise — or, at the very least, Veronique was.
Sleep danced around her, a dangling string barely out of reach from her fingertips and she had all but given up on trying to snatch it from whatever taunting force. She hardly slept nowadays anyways, with a dozen or more troubling thoughts constantly parading on a loop throughout her brain, and now was certainly not an exception. Adrenaline was still coursing through her veins from the moments in trying to escape the streets from the curses being hurtled around — Veronique would always head in the opposite direction of a duel, it was her personality and had come around to bite her in the ass as she tried to weave in and out of charms and spells, and then there was still the real, very threatening fact that the Muggles were unleashing hellfire on one another. It was enough to leave the woman drained, and drained she was. She couldn’t bare to head home and face what would certainly be a terrible memory all over again, so she made herself at home in the damp tunnels filled with an utter darkness.
Fingers absentmindedly rolled her wand in between them, merely keeping idle hands busy as she tried to stay alert. It was only a matter of time, she thought, until a levy broke and something spilled down into the safe haven she’d momentarily found. Whether it was more Muggles searching for a place away from the bombs or wizards bringing their conflicts to new terrain, she was fully aware of one thing: whatever twisted peace she’d composed would be shattered sooner rather than later. Her head was still spinning, most of her emotions reeled back in but they were the looming storm cloud on the horizon, threatening to bring rain at any given moment.
Echoes, of course, had been no shy presence in Veronique’s company, only this time, it didn’t seem to be coming from above on the streets, but rather down here, with her. So far, this part of tunnels had been abandoned (it was, after all, why she’d nestled down here), and sooner had suddenly become now. Her brain began to jumble again, an all-too-familiar sensation of adrenaline spiking in her system and the hairs on her arms starting to rise as the noises grew closer, and in which direction she couldn’t be certain. Scrambling to pull herself together, she held her wand out as a mere defense mechanism with her knees drawing towards her chest. “Hello?” she called out, voice rough and husky from the damp environment and a sore throat that would surely grow worse in the days to come with smoke inhabiting her surroundings. Silence followed, and Veronique found herself growing impatient. “Bon Dieu, si vous êtes ici pour me tuer, faites vite?” The words flew out of her mouth in a heated irritation, a threat made out of frustration that she would probably regret if whomever followed up on it, but it had been a long enough day. No longer was she in the mood for games.
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