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If Damian lived a hundred years, and a hundred years after that, he would not be half as wise as Jane Howard. Being clever got him this far, and being tricky got him into the Ministry of Magic. "You are right." She always seemed to be. She could turn trauma into strength. A true alchemist. "We'll persevere." The hand on his arm seemed to send a jolt of positive energy through him. "Nothing lives in darkness forever. The sun rises. Even if we have to hoist it up above the horizon with our own hands." Damian let a moments silence linger between them. A thousand words living and dying on his tongue without any escaping. Until. "I would ask about this experiment of yours that has taken you so close to the edge, but privacy is one of the few luxuries that we are afforded here." He spoke more out of concern than curiosity. |
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"Hey.." He had met her gaze with a roguish grin. "Hey, you must be mistaking me for someone that causes trouble." Damian should probably be offended that Jane didn't entirely trust him with his work in the chamber, but he didn't mind a chance to prove himself. He knew that he could be unpredictable, and how that made people uncomfortable. "I really tried my best to care for your lab while you were gone. I hardly know my mortar from my pestle, but the chamber didn't explode... If that was possible." The wizard was rather proud of how well he took care of the place during Jane's convalescence. "And as for the book, remember: It's only dangerous if you read it. And there's nothing in there that I could ever want." Damian punctuated this by pointing at himself, and then moving the finger in her direction. "But an alchemist? The possibility of living forever? To bring back the dead? Even when it's done with the most noble of intentions, it all ends in horror." He could go from joking to serious at the drop of a hat. "But, I trust you even more than I trust myself. So, there's nowhere safer in the world." With that finger he turned on her, Damian gave her nose a little boop. |
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"And I promise not to try to read the book. I wasn't particularly afraid of danger, only of--what people in the '60s used to refer to as 'bad vibrations.'" |
"I know a few things about bad vibrations. I once had this cursed guitar that--" Damian began excitedly, though he cut himself off before he could get far into his fantastical, and long winded, story. "Instead of another tale, how about I share something actually useful?" Dangling his wand loosely between his thumb and index finger, he struck it gently against his chest while saying "Interi vibratus." Like a tuning fork, the wand vibrated with a low, steady hum. "Isn't that neat? Everything vibrates, and this lets you hear it." He added, waving the wand around a bit, as if conducting music. "It helps identify cursed objects, and getting a read on someone's general mood." He was full of surprises. |
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"Sorry.." Damian said, not needing his spell to pick up on the vibes Jane was giving off. "My mind has been all abuzz lately." In a magical world of endless possibilities, how could it not? "Trying to turn all this nervous energy into something positive." The urge to ramble, and spin an anecdote off into a long-winded story, was strong with him. But, instead, he only spoke a simple statement. "I have some theories about this chamber." Holding his hands up in surrender, he added. "But that can wait. I should let you get back to work." The wizard knew how important her work was. To her, and the larger wizarding world. He couldn't help but feel a little guilty for taking up her time with his prattling on. |
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She turned and walked back up the steps to the sectioned off area in one section of the top level that had been turned into a laboratory for her. Just before she disappeared around the partition, she turned and called over her shoulder, "And Damian--try not to let your emotions override your judgement out there." And she gave one of her enigmatic smiles before returning to her work. |
New Timeline... Jane Howard was standing before the small potions laboratory set up at the top of the Death Chamber staring blankly at her current experiments. The Chamber seemed strangely empty and hollow, the atmosphere disturbing. Her colleagues, Damian Pendragon and David Truebridge were strangely missing. Odd--she hadn't seen them in days; where could they have gone? After rather a long time, Jane picked up a large flask of water, held it over the tabletop, and proceeded to douse everything in sight with water, causing a plume of black, oily smoke to rise up from her cauldron, filling the Chamber with an unpleasant pungent odor. Then Jane opened her mouth and emitted an impossibly loud, high, squealing SCREEEEECH!!! which filled the Chamber and even seemed to stir the curtains on the Dais down below in the center. Then Jane dropped the flask, which shattered on the stone floor, and wandered erratically out of the door... |
New year, new timeline... Jane Howard, Department of Mysteries alchemist, lowered the flame on her Bain-Marie, and spent a few moments gazing fondly at the dark, somewhat gelatinous mass inside. "Patience, all will be completed in due course," she murmured gently, but whether to the experiment or to herself was hard to tell. Giving one final glance, to make sure nothing was amiss, she wiped her hands with a specially-charmed cleaning cloth (casting a cleaning charm this close to the experiment might cause undue magical reverberations). Then she straightened her hair and clothing and stepped away from her small laboratory area in the upper areas of the chamber and made her way out of the Death Chamber. It was high time she had a break, after all, and it didn't do to spend too much time under the influence of the chamber. The experiment in the Bain Marie simmered softly, emitting a faint cloud of steam which began to expand and float down the stairs of the chamber, seeping into the cracks and crannies of the walls. When it reached one particular corner, it began to turn black in colour. Soon a billowing dark cloud of vapor was expanding in the Death Chamber. |
Smelling faintly of petrichor, with hair recently dried by the morning sun, Damian approached the entrance to the chamber in mud flecked shoes. It was a long morning after a long night, and he had promised himself that he would only come to the Ministry to grab breakfast before going home to his bed and blackout curtains. He was only a couple bites into his breakfast burrito when he heard a disembodied voice speaking in a dead tongue. Hunger and sleep were distant memories when the unspeakable finally entered the Death Chamber. The dreadful voice beckoning him inside was more than just sleep deprived delirium. The black cloud at the bottom of the chamber, surrounding the vale in the center, reeked of pure malevolence. Whatever elixir or tincture that Jane had been brewing awakened something Damian had hoped to keep buried. A mortemist should know that what was dead and buried was not guaranteed to stay that way. "Some right Barney Rubble down there." Damian often let his cockney accent slip when he was alone, shedding his more dignified airs. With no clue how to get out of this predicament, he would have to at least make an attempt to contain it. Having confiscated nearly every saltshaker from the food court, a circle was walked around the upper edge of the room, leaving a trail behind him. Discarding the final shaker when reaching back where he started, Damian had his wand out while uttering a protective spell. There was a gnawing feeling that things were going to get worse before they got better. |
Jane had allowed herself a half-hour's tea break and then returned to the Death Chamber to finish tidying up some things and make some final notes. She was humming under her breath as she closed the door, but cut herself off mid-phrase as she stopped in her tracks to survey the chaos inside. Can't go out for even a few minutes in this place... she muttered to herself. Looking down into the center of the Chamber she took note of the black cloud, which was emanating misery and despair even at distance. Oh no... What could have gone wrong? She was certain she'd done the experiment correctly, but it shouldn't be doing this. Then she noticed her colleague up on the top ring of the Chamber, scattering some substance that looked a great deal like common table salt. Jane hoped that was all it was, because they really didn't need any more chemicals in here right now. "Damian!" she whispered, moving a bit closer to him, but taking care to stay out of the way of whatever he was doing. "What's happened? My experiment should not have produced this effect." |
"That thing I told you wouldn't be a problem? It became a problem." Damian stated plainly after finishing his incantation. That would buy a little time. "This was supposed to be the safest place to hide that book. The vale was keeping it in a dormant state, but whatever you cooked up had some unforeseen side effects." He was nervously gesturing while he talked. The black fog was shaking his unflappable confidence. "It-It's not just dark magic: It's anti-life. That thing can give the power to subjugate the living as well as the dead, and it might even reveal how to create dementors. Just thinking of it feels like a splinter in my minds eye." It wasn't just the fog; black lines, like veins or tree branches had begun to slowly stretch across the stone floor. The air felt thick and oppressive. If they listened closely, they could hear the whispers of forbidden knowledge, or was that all in their heads? "We. I have to destroy it." |
Jane looked perturbed for a moment as she listened to Damian. Yes, she'd urged caution way back when he said this wouldn't be a problem, because she knew what she was working on was tricky, but he'd seemed so assured about it, she had let herself be convinced. "I've been working on the Black Phase for several years now--that's why I needed the lab set up in the Death Chamber, the vibrations in the Love Chamber lab were causing interference." Jane paused, unsure how much Damian knew about alchemy. "It's a very difficult phase--the term "Dark Night of the Soul" might sum it up. But I was very near to completing it--I'd managed to decay it all down in a sort of embryo state, ready for the Fermentation Stage. But if what you were storing in there does what you say, it is very bad. Because my experiment is the concentrated essence of depression and despair, and it sounds like your thing could exacerbate it." Jane had pulled out her wand and was using it to take readings on the black vapor, trying to nail down just what they were dealing with. She certainly wasn't going to leave Damian to try to fix this on his own. He might be an expert on dark objects, but he was no alchemist, and that was now part of what they had on their hands. |
Another time. Another mystery. Approaching the hall that lead to the locked and sealed door to the Death Chamber it sounded as if there was a heated argument accompanied by the sound of thrashing and crashing. Upon closer inspection, it appeared the sound was some classic British punk coming from an old tombstone shaped, wood cased radio. The one responsible for this racket was the infamous Damian Pendragon. He'd gone back to his roots over the holiday. Leather jackets and combat boots was who he was before being employed by the Ministry of Magic. The Unspeakable's head was bobbing along with the music as he paced in front of the large, imposing door. Chains and runes had kept anyone from entering until Jane and Damian could sort out the dire situation brewing within. |
Jane was running uncharacteristically late, but she had wanted to make sure she had all the notes and equipment they might need. Damian had been pretty set on destroying whatever their mutual experiments might have created, but Jane was equally set on trying to save at least the germ of the result of her work in the Fermentation phase. She had had to start over so many times already and she wasn't willing to abandon it now without trying. |
"Ms. Howard." Jane's name was lost in the loud music before it came to an end with a gentle pop and hiss of static when Damian turned a knob to switch off the radio. She was the type of witch you could set a watch to. On the other hand, you would have to tell Damian a nine o'clock meeting was at eight thirty in the hopes that he would get there by a quarter after. Jane's tardiness did not go unnoticed, but he didn't think it'd be wise to acknowledge it. "How are ya, Jane? Did you sleep well? Did you eat?" Leaning in with his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, the wizard looked over his fellow unspeakable along with the notes and equipment she brought. She looked prepared, but was she really? Damian was never shy about his professional and personal concern. With just his wand and his wits, he seemed ill prepared for the task ahead, but the often-melancholy mortemist was radiating confidence. |
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Jane cocked an eyebrow at her colleague. She suspected he though of her as a sheltered bookworm sort of person, hiding away from the world in a laboratory. But there were parts of the alchemical process that would chill the stoutest of hearts, and Jane had seen some things, as the saying went. Anyway, whatever they faced, they were both responsible for it and therefore it was up to them to try to make it right. |
"Jane." Damian started with a small laugh. He was a professional loner, but if he had to work with someone it would be Jane Howard. She would be prepared and take things as seriously as they deserved. She was the best of the best, but he still had his concerns. "The important question was: How are you?" Damian was often silly, but he was always sincere. "My secret weapon in situations like this is a full heart. Started my day sleeping in without an alarm clock and having eggies in a basket like my mum used to make. The leather jacket, the music, my favorite cologne. All alchemical ingredients to keep my fire burning. Sometimes I visit a shelter and pet all the dogs, or I go out to dinner and kiss someone pretty. There's no room in here for whatever is in there to latch on to." He punctuated this by pointing at his heart and then at the locked door to the chamber. Damian was well aware of the dangers that his line of work entailed. It was an inevitability that some darkness would take root, but this did not make him a dark wizard. His love for life allowed him to defy the darkness in all its forms. Jane knew all this. She was a master alchemist. The archeus and the ethers. Life, light, chemical, reflection. He was just doing his best, and it helped to say it out loud. Pulling an old brass key from his jacket pocket, Damian gently placed it inside the lock and stepped aside. It would be up to her to turn it when she was ready. |
Jane smiled a little at her colleague's description of his feel-good routine. Somehow, she had not suspected some of the things he mentioned, especially the puppy-petting. But for Jane, the mere prospect of new knowledge, of making a new discovery, and, of course, of working once more with her creation, was enough to fill her with a sharp and curious joy. Rather like the feeling one got when catching a glimpse of the rising sun on a fine morning. Just thinking of her little alchemical embroyo in there filled her heart with love, for it, for the joy of discovery, and for life in general. No, she would not let anything happen to her work now; she had had to start over again too many times already. The forces of darkness might be powerful, but they had never had to deal with a determined and capable nanny before. All these thoughts passed through her mind in an instant, and from the outside it would appear to be hardly any time at all before Jane took a step toward the door. Carefully, but firmly, she took hold of the brass handle and turned the key in the lock. |
Per usual, David was set on minding his own business, keeping to himself and largely ignoring the shenanigans caused by his quirkiest coworkers. As he approached the pair at the door, however, he had to hold back more than a few snorts at what he was overhearing. Eggies, really? Grown men used the term eggies?? He sighed as he stopped outside the door and behind the two turning the key. Quickly he dug into his pocket, and unearthed his palm-sized notebook and miniature golden Muggle pen which resided in its spirals. He clicked it out and began jotting down notes, with a soft, "Don't mind me," as the pen started scratching. Yes, yes, he was here to watch their proposed "strenuous activities,' though he would, of course, be maintaining a calculated safe and significant physical distance. He had no need to really involve himself in this beyond the observational, no desire to become more ambitious, no thank you at all. Unlike his coworker who liked to 'kiss someone beautiful,' David's highly excitable dinner plans typically included tending to the Anyway. Must stay focused. Brass handle he underlined, pen poised to write the results of the door opening. |
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Stepping quickly over the threshhold, Jane looked into the Death Chamber, scanning the upper rim where her temporary laboratory was set up, straining to see...whatever, through the dim light. Was that a sound she heard up there? Sort of a slimy rustling, like a giant snail was creeping along the top level. She wanted to get a better look at her retort, but waited Jane waited until Damian could join her, quite prepared to slam the door behind them, in Mr. Truebridge's face, if necessary. |
Sorry for the delay. Enjoy a rambling post. "David!" Damian started excitedly. "I am glad you could make it, my friend." Clapping a hand on David's shoulder, his eyes were distracted by the golden pen. "It may be wise to stay outside, but today calls for bravery." Offering a warm smile, he was trying his best to play off Jane's rebuff as an act of concern. "I don't want you to feel like a third wheel. There's power in the number three." Damian drew a triangle in the air with a finger as he said this. "Bringing disparate opposites together as a stronger whole!" Thinking about the shiny gold pen, he reached a finger towards it. "Might want to write that part down." Taking a step towards the open door, Damian could feel what seemed at first like a cold breeze, but it was more like it was absorbing the heat from the hall. "Our foolish hearts get us into all sorts of trouble. That's why we need people like you to keep us honest. Honest hearts leading to honest actions an' all that, right?" Looking back one last time before entering, he pointed a thumb over his shoulder towards the doorway that appeared like a gaping maw ready to swallow them whole. A journey into mystery. "Once more unto the breach?" |
La la la continuing on with our scheme For the record (not that anyone is recording one or anything, ahem): David Truebridge was N O T a reporter. He did not hold the press in high regard, in fact, ever since they reported on his underwater kidnapping and then left him high and dry (all puns fully intended) and rather scarred from the whole thing afterward. "I will NOT be sitting this one out," he retorted hotly, though he did jot down Damian's quip (as it WAS a good one). Davie then quickly stuffed his notebook into an interior pocket of his jacket and began rolling up his sleeves. See? He meant business. He was risking wrinkles in this fine suit for this. He did hope his coworkers appreciated the small sacrifices as much as the large ones. "Once more with the door...." He intoned, wand out now and at the ready. "Lead the way, Jane." |
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