#open 001

carmy righted himself in the water, tugging himself back to his board by way of his still-attached leash and grabbed hold of the resin, pulling himself up to straddle his trusty board, splaying his hands in front of him on the cream-and-navy-colored surface. he shook his head, sending droplets flinging in a 360-degree halo from the ends of his dark curls. the solid surface of the board beneath his fingertips helped steady his nerves after the absolutely monumental wipeout he'd just experienced.

after a minute of letting himself sway with the undulating ocean and regaining his understanding of up and down, he paddled back to the shore, unhooking his ankle from the leash and hoisting the board under his arm, the soft-warm-staticky grains of sand attaching themselves to his wet feet as he scoped for a proper place to take a rest and enjoy the morning warming-but-not-oppressively-hot sun's rays before his day really needed to get underway. he spotted a familiar face along the shore and made his way over. "please tell me you didn't see that embarrassing spill," he said, setting his board down and lowering himself to the sand beside it.

✦ location: the green dragon lounge

It was a busy night, busier than usual, at the upscale and exclusive Green Dragon Lounge. Most of the emerald velvet seats were filled, confirmed by Alecto as she wove her way through the tables, stopping by here and there to lend an ear or laugh to a client. Keeping her patrons happy and drunk was how her business was more booming than ever. It also helped that the Ministry’s Benefit Gala had reminded her clientele that private, exclusive gatherings were much more favorable to a charity ball, open to the public like a common village fair.

Alecto swept her dark hair from her shoulders as she sauntered away from a Ministry official’s uninteresting story about his recent South American travels. As she did so, she was approached by one of the many security wizards around the lounge. “Miss Carrow, there is someone claiming to know you trying to get into the lounge,” her employee explained.

Alecto’s interest piqued. Who would dare to name drop her? She wanted to see it for herself, and as she looked towards the entrance, a sly, wicked grin spread across her painted lips. “Well, this should be fun,” she remarked.

Jackie often tried to cling to her youth. With two little ones making her feel older by the day, she let Gen Z influence her probably a little too much. She parted her hair in the middle. She’d ditched her skinny jeans. If she could be mistaken for even one year younger than her approaching thirty, she was happy. But if there was one Millenial thing she’d cling to, Mean Girls was probably it. It was, arguably, one of the best comedies of all time. So she was making a night of it, all dolled up in pink, and, naturally, ordering cheese fries from concessions, Jackie was ready for a fun night. Turning away from the counter, she smiled at the person walking through the door. “Ordering a tub of butter seemed like going too hard. But this feels appropriate, right?”

                                               ┊Calladium  não  pode  se  importar  menos  com  a  opinião  que  outros  tem  sobre  si,  e  deixa  isso  visível  pela  falta  de  travas  na  língua  mesmo  em  um  bar  de  Arthurian.  Bate  o  pulso  contra  a  madeira  ao  estabelecer  ali  o  copo  vazio,  o  olhar  cai  no  garçom  que  o  serve  após  tirar  os  excals  do  bolso  do  jeans  surrado  --  pretensão  de  mostrar  que  pode  pagar  por  mais.  “―  Vamos  brindar!  Afinal  não  sou  eu  o  castigado  que  está  sendo  algemado  hoje,  e  isso  merece  uma  comemoração!”  Ele  ergue  o  copo,  agora  cheio,  apenas  o  suficiente  para  simular  um  brinde  e  então  sorve  um  longo  gole.  “―  Cheers.”  É  claro  sua  insatisfação  com  o  ocorrido  de  semanas  antes,  e  sua  crítica  ao  sistema,  pouco  incomodado  com  quem  pudesse  o  ouvir.

Viktor feels like he’s been schmoozing forever. Dragged like a leopard on a leash from group to group to group until he feels like his brain is melting out of his ears from how boring all this small talk was. Surely nothing was that important that it had to be sardonically defended at a casino. There were people being actively brainwashed on slot machines as they spoke for crying out loud. Viktor swears that if he has to fake laugh at another subpar gang related pun, he’s going to start walking into the desert and never fucking stop.

He excuses himself from the suffocatingly leery crowd of old men and makes a B-line for the closest bar and weasels his way in between a set of bodies to order a drink. The lights above the countertop strobe down in neon red and blues and Viktor drums his fingers impatiently on the countertop, a scotch order already barked into the face of a bar tender who was definitely not getting paid enough to take his shit.

“Well well-” he muses out loud, having twisted away from the bartop with a new tumbler in hand to linger somewhere close to a haphazardly thrown together buffet table. “-they really do just let anyone into these things, don’t they?” Those too bright blue eyes flicker pointedly down and up the other person, and when Viktor smiles in that chagrin sort of way that he was known for, its only ever so slightly mockingly.

☼ location: ministry of magic

As a Curse Breaker, Benjy had worked abroad in many corners of the world. He had traversed the insides of ancient pyramids, explored thick jungles in the dead of night with only wand light leading him. Yet somehow, he never got more lost than he did in the bureaucratic maze that was the Ministry of Magic. After only a couple of months being employed there, he still had a difficult time navigating the place. 

For the third time that day, he got off on the wrong floor, looking in bewilderment at the department he was in that was most certainly not his. He had wandered naively, hoping he would stumble on his office, before realizing he didn’t quite know how to get back to the lift either. “Yup, I’m lost,” he remarked out loud.

The situation also possesses the unfortunate caveat of requiring her to share a roof with treacherous Bolton’s and Greystark’s, but she tells herself that she won’t let that get in the way of her duty. She can ignore the memories of being fourteen and terrified, locked in her chambers and clutching her little brother tightly in her arms, as the sound of screams and metal slamming against metal filtered into the room, of the look on Alaric’s face when he’d come to retrieve them and informed them that their parents were dead. No, she will not think of any of that now. The time for justice will come soon enough.

She finds herself in the High Hall, running a hand along the blue-veined white marble. The clearing of a throat signifies that she is not alone and she remarks without turning around, asking, “While one would hope we’ll have no cause for it to open during our time here, I must admit I have quite the urge to see the view from the Moon Door. Do you think it’s as impressive as they say?”