and the stream runs in circles from the chasm to the core

[lumenrelegandus]

Who: MULTIPLE THREADS! Expected: there are some plans. Unexpected: how would I know?
When: Right after this-with flexibility. All sparked by this after this.
Where: The Clinic
Format: [hates choosing] Whatever I start with, do your own thing!
What: Tonks visitations. Lupin's return. Shirley in da house. Trepkos the Grouch. AND MORE.
Warnings: Ow ow

Comments

in lieu of posting that log, I will hijack this one.

[impossibly]

[ If you build a temple in marble and daub the keystone with the blood of your first-born son, is it an inoculation or a ward? The Clinic always smells like growth, cells repairing and tissues knitting together and flowers with little white cards. River isn't always obvious when she comes, and barely ever helpful, but to her, as a building, it rings more of warm steady hands soothing her back than needles and sharp shocks through the teeth, spilling over, spilling over. ]

[ Today she has bouquets, half a dozen all piled in her arms, and their wrappings crinkle as she climbs the stairs with soft feet. Somehow there's hope in decay, and she will carry them from room to room, silently leaving one behind. They have no signature and no vase; just lilies and chrysanthemums, stark and sweet. ]

[ In the corridors, River hums softly, a few notes, high and sweet. A music-box tune, or a lark song. For a few days thinks were all jumbled but for now everything seems cold and clear and easy. ]

/hijacks you -- wait.

[thenobledie]

[her original entrance into the clinic slipped shirley's notice, but after returning inside, she hears the tune and follows it through a corridor. waiting as river exits one room, as though she knows who river is already. her smile is soft.]

A rare thing.

[insert con air joke here]

[impossibly]

I didn't grow them myself.

[ River tilts her head, responds to the smile with a deer-step forward, a little bewitched by Shirley. ]

i haven't seen that in forever, wow.

[thenobledie]

[unbothered:]

The sentiment will grow something among the patients, though.

[impossibly]

Bacteria?

[ She's kidding. Kidding. ]

[thenobledie]

[wow, shirley actually chuckles!]

It would be infectious.

[impossibly]

[ Apparently so is Shirley's laughter! River giggles too. ]

Want one?

[thenobledie]

[d'aw.]

The patients will appreciate them more.

[impossibly]

Won't miss one from a baker's dozen.

[ Deftly, she plucks a flower out and offers it. ]

[thenobledie]

[nodding, shirley takes the offered flower and, not having much to do with only one, tucks it behind her ear. it feels strangely nostalgic.]

[impossibly]

[ Nostalgia and her own pride. It's a good feeling, warm. ]

What are you doing today?

[thenobledie]

Little. Do you have a suggestion for me?

multi-thread thread within a multi-thread log? like a boss

[wotchesyou]

[ True to his word, Remus had been there when she had awakened that morning. There had not been a moment of panic, there had just been him. It made it a little easier.

Now she's sitting on the bed with Remus' photograph in her lap. She keeps studying it and so she holds it with both hands. Her wand is next to her hip, ready to be picked up at a moment's notice. So when her door opens, Tonks does reach for her wand. She doesn't lift it to aim at the door, she just holds it silently and waits.

It wouldn't be good to have a repeat performance from yesterday. ]

WE HAVE TO GO DEEPER

[impossibly]

Don't burn me.

[ River is scared of Bellatrix, whose fractures are a parable, and so she is in turn afraid of Tonks and how just being in the room with her is dead eyes and rabbit fear, sticking in her throat. She lifts her free hand to hold under her chin, the delicate skin there, as though holding her head in place. ]

[ Be kind she'd told Tonks once, but the sentiment is a little more selfish now. She eyes the wand warily as she proffers her last bunch of flowers. ]

I haven't seen that yet.

[wotchesyou]

[ Her right hand spasms and she lets go of her wand. She doesn't pick it up. Tonks looks down into her lap but that's not what she's focusing on. ]

I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. It was an accident.

I couldn't resist the reference :D

[impossibly]

Don't be sad.

[ But she recognizes madness and if she is having a good day this woman is obviously not. She lets go of her neck and draws out a long-stemmed lily. White, for death. The rest of the bunch she leaves carefully on the side table and comes closer with just the one, laid across her palms rather than gripped like a wand, votive. ]

Please. These are for you. Smell one.