All that is gold does not glitter
Category: Pink Sheep RPG
Ever since leaving the aurors, Millicent had been in a fog. She'd tried returning to her lab and the research that had been assigned to it, but nothing made sense in her state. With a huff, she set her wards and escaped down the corridors of the Department. She wanted to be lost for awhile.
It was one of those darker days. They were fewer and further between since he'd moved in with Jake, but Cedric had again reached a point where he needed...something. He didn't quite know what he needed, except to prowl the dark hallways of the DoM until he felt a little less lost and angry. Smith had let him go, well versed in recognising when Ced needed him to shut up and leave him alone; a compliance that would have surprised a fair few. Cedric would pace and stew until he regained his equilibrium, each lap down the hall taking him ever closer to the chamber that had once been his world.
She stalked down the corridor, not really looking where she was going. Surely down here, somewhere amongst the bowels of the Ministry, there would be adequate space to hex the everlasting shite out of something. Confusion was not an emotion she was familiar with, nor did she care to be. On the other hand, anger was an old ally and friend.
Wandering in the fog of his own thoughts, Cedric hadn't even noticed the angry woman striding towards him, colliding with an audible "oof." The instinctive reflex had him grasping her upper arms to steady her, while he tried to dredge up manners through his surprise and apologise. "Very sorry, Miss, er..." he looked down to search her face, she'd not been here long, "Bulstrode."
Millicent stiffened when hands were put on her person without her express permission. Casual touching was not something she had ever been familiar -- or very comfortable with. "Mr. Diggory," she nodded as she extricated herself out of his grasp.
Cedric dropped his hands to his side, noting her discomfort. "Sorry about that," he broke off momentarily, shaking his head with a huff of breath, "wasn't really here at all." The surprise collision had shocked a little of the fog out of him, though he still felt hazed.
She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "If you're not really here than why are you here?" The halls of the DoM were no place for an Unspeakable if his head was in a fog. Then again, wasn't that a bit hypocrtical of her?
"They don't pay me if I leave," it was a half arsed attempt at a joke, to be sure, but more conversation than he'd managed in the past few hours. It was a start.
"They brought you back from the dead," she countered, though it really wasn't an accusation as much as a statement of fact. She'd want to be free of this place as well. She was consciously aware, after spending so many of her years being neutral, that she had chosen a side. Never mind the fact that it had been chosen for her.
"That just means they want their money's worth," he noted dryly, pushing a hand through already erratic hair.
She eyed him. Money? Did he really think it was about something so mundane? "Funny, I always figure it was something else." After all, the Ministry had a much easier time of controlling this Golden Boy's image rather than the Boy-Who-Lived-to-be-a-Pain-in-the-Arse. Don't play to our whims? Fine, we'll find another.
The man lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. "There's always something else, down here." Sometimes he wondered if any single person had a bead on the myriad, labyrinthine workings of the DoM, or the motivations behind them. "Speaking of, what is it they've got you doing?" Trying to make conversation was helping to clear his head, if only a little, and there was no reason not to be polite to the woman.
"If I spoke of it, wouldn't it be in violation of my job title? Unspeakable". Unable to speak to nosy crazy-haired men.
"Two 'un's cancel each other out. Makes you entirely speakable." He almost had the ghost of a smile at that. Puns could work wonders.
She lifted an eyebrow. "Seems just like a convenient way to guarantee the dagger comes from the front rather than the back."
"Exactly. You can see it coming, then. Gives you time to eviscerate." He swallowed a wince, having done similar to attackers on the odd occasion. Experimental spells developed in the DoM didn't tend to leave the best taste in one's mouth, literally or figuratively.
Millicent blanched. Brought up twice in one day, the topic of evisceration was not something she'd care to talk about. "I'd prefer not to be stabbed at all, if it's all the same."
"Then why'd you take a job down in the dark here?" There was still cynical sulleness apparent in his voice.
"Who said I took it?" she returned coolly. "Perhaps it was given." Fuck. Perhaps the potion hadn't worn off as quickly as she had hoped.
"Dark gift horses and mouths, then," Ced surmised. He'd not exactly had a choice himself.
She looked away, unable to keep eye contact. Already she had allowed parts to be shown that should have been kept hidden. "Something like that."
Summary: Cedric and Millicent bump into one another, literally, in the halls.
Ever since leaving the aurors, Millicent had been in a fog. She'd tried returning to her lab and the research that had been assigned to it, but nothing made sense in her state. With a huff, she set her wards and escaped down the corridors of the Department. She wanted to be lost for awhile.
It was one of those darker days. They were fewer and further between since he'd moved in with Jake, but Cedric had again reached a point where he needed...something. He didn't quite know what he needed, except to prowl the dark hallways of the DoM until he felt a little less lost and angry. Smith had let him go, well versed in recognising when Ced needed him to shut up and leave him alone; a compliance that would have surprised a fair few. Cedric would pace and stew until he regained his equilibrium, each lap down the hall taking him ever closer to the chamber that had once been his world.
She stalked down the corridor, not really looking where she was going. Surely down here, somewhere amongst the bowels of the Ministry, there would be adequate space to hex the everlasting shite out of something. Confusion was not an emotion she was familiar with, nor did she care to be. On the other hand, anger was an old ally and friend.
Wandering in the fog of his own thoughts, Cedric hadn't even noticed the angry woman striding towards him, colliding with an audible "oof." The instinctive reflex had him grasping her upper arms to steady her, while he tried to dredge up manners through his surprise and apologise. "Very sorry, Miss, er..." he looked down to search her face, she'd not been here long, "Bulstrode."
Millicent stiffened when hands were put on her person without her express permission. Casual touching was not something she had ever been familiar -- or very comfortable with. "Mr. Diggory," she nodded as she extricated herself out of his grasp.
Cedric dropped his hands to his side, noting her discomfort. "Sorry about that," he broke off momentarily, shaking his head with a huff of breath, "wasn't really here at all." The surprise collision had shocked a little of the fog out of him, though he still felt hazed.
She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "If you're not really here than why are you here?" The halls of the DoM were no place for an Unspeakable if his head was in a fog. Then again, wasn't that a bit hypocrtical of her?
"They don't pay me if I leave," it was a half arsed attempt at a joke, to be sure, but more conversation than he'd managed in the past few hours. It was a start.
"They brought you back from the dead," she countered, though it really wasn't an accusation as much as a statement of fact. She'd want to be free of this place as well. She was consciously aware, after spending so many of her years being neutral, that she had chosen a side. Never mind the fact that it had been chosen for her.
"That just means they want their money's worth," he noted dryly, pushing a hand through already erratic hair.
She eyed him. Money? Did he really think it was about something so mundane? "Funny, I always figure it was something else." After all, the Ministry had a much easier time of controlling this Golden Boy's image rather than the Boy-Who-Lived-to-be-a-Pain-in-the-Arse. Don't play to our whims? Fine, we'll find another.
The man lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. "There's always something else, down here." Sometimes he wondered if any single person had a bead on the myriad, labyrinthine workings of the DoM, or the motivations behind them. "Speaking of, what is it they've got you doing?" Trying to make conversation was helping to clear his head, if only a little, and there was no reason not to be polite to the woman.
"If I spoke of it, wouldn't it be in violation of my job title? Unspeakable". Unable to speak to nosy crazy-haired men.
"Two 'un's cancel each other out. Makes you entirely speakable." He almost had the ghost of a smile at that. Puns could work wonders.
She lifted an eyebrow. "Seems just like a convenient way to guarantee the dagger comes from the front rather than the back."
"Exactly. You can see it coming, then. Gives you time to eviscerate." He swallowed a wince, having done similar to attackers on the odd occasion. Experimental spells developed in the DoM didn't tend to leave the best taste in one's mouth, literally or figuratively.
Millicent blanched. Brought up twice in one day, the topic of evisceration was not something she'd care to talk about. "I'd prefer not to be stabbed at all, if it's all the same."
"Then why'd you take a job down in the dark here?" There was still cynical sulleness apparent in his voice.
"Who said I took it?" she returned coolly. "Perhaps it was given." Fuck. Perhaps the potion hadn't worn off as quickly as she had hoped.
"Dark gift horses and mouths, then," Ced surmised. He'd not exactly had a choice himself.
She looked away, unable to keep eye contact. Already she had allowed parts to be shown that should have been kept hidden. "Something like that."
Summary: Cedric and Millicent bump into one another, literally, in the halls.