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sweetpinkpixie · #1 (**permalink**) 06-04-2021, 11:21 PM

It’s true, the rattle and clang of the lift as it goes frontways, backways, sideways, and the good old fashioned up and down may be annoying. It may make you grind your teeth in a way that will make your dentist recommend you wear a mouth guard at night. At least you have those spirited elevator music renditions of show tunes playing in the background as you travel about the Ministry to keep you company?

Those traveling though the Ministry of Magic via the lifts have now found themselves somewhere in the midst of the upper levels. Choose a number (one, two, or three) and you'll be dropped off on the level of your choice!

Zoe · 03-22-2026, 02:55 AM

The lift doors were already sliding shut when Coraline slipped through the narrowing gap, one hand catching the brass edge with practiced precision. They hesitated just long enough to recognize her clearance before sealing her inside with a soft, decisive click that echoed faintly in the enclosed space.

Cutting it close, she thought to herself, smoothing a crease from the cuff of her sleeve.

Coraline exhaled a quiet breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Her satchel shifted against her shoulder, the delicate clink of glass vials chiming softly within. They were stabilized, meticulously cushioned, and charmed against fracture, of course, but she still winced on instinct. Years of alchemical work had ingrained that reflex too deeply to unlearn. Fragile things had a way of becoming volatile with very little encouragement.

The lift then gave a gentle lurch. Upward. Coraline's brow furrowed, just slightly.

That wasn't—

She shifted her weight, taking a small step back as her gaze flicked toward the lift controller. Of course. The chosen level was brightly illuminated and unmistakable. One of the upper levels had been selected, sitting in stark contrast to where she would have chosen for herself to go.

*squidnie* · 03-22-2026, 05:03 AM

Anna was distracted as she entered the lift, pressing her shoulder to the doors just in case they tried to close on her. Her arms were full of papers and a few other items. Her messenger bag was hanging from one forearm and knocking precariously against a leg with each step. Still, she made it into the lifts in one piece despite her rush. She’d put everything away in a minute.

She leaned back against the wall, briefly closing her eyes before the tattoo on the back of her neck flared with heat. Not enough to signal danger, but a reminder that she needed to pay attention to her surroundings.

She regained her composure almost immediately, like a spell spreading from her head, down her body, to her toes, which were covered in pointed boots that were much more functional than they looked. She flicked her gaze to the other person in the elevator, then down to the controls. Her heart gave a strong beat, as if chastising her for her carelessness.

“Going up,” she sighed. “I didn’t even notice.”

Zoe · 03-22-2026, 03:33 PM

Her eyes lingered on the control panel a moment longer, her fingers twitching faintly at her side and just shy of reaching for the lever that would send the lift back down. The impulse was brief, and she let it pass. Someone, after all, had called it upward or was expecting it to arrive.

When the other woman in the lift spoke, Coraline turned her head slightly, catching her in her periphery. She hadn't noticed her at first, but that, in itself, wasn't unusual. Most of the Ministry blurred at the edges for her; she kept to her work, to her chamber, to the careful, controlled world of her own making.

"So it would seem," Coraline replied, her voice low and even, threaded with a measured cadence of someone already dissecting the moment. "Were you intending to go up, or—" she trailed off lightly, the question more observational than accusatory, as her attention drifted back to the steadily climbing numbers.

Another quiet chime of glass occurred when she adjusted the strap of her satchel.

"I'm meant for Level Nine," she added, tilting her head just slightly. "Which, unless the Ministry has decided to reorganize itself overnight—" a pause, the faintest brush of dry humour touching her voice, "—would be in the opposite direction."

*squidnie* · 03-22-2026, 08:01 PM

Anna almost smiled. Almost. The other woman in the elevator appeared to be just as distracted as she was. Or just as focused, she supposed, depending on your viewpoint. She took a moment to assess the situation, noting the quiet sound of glass bumping against glass that was coming from the woman’s bag.

Level Nine. “The Department of Mysteries,” she said. It wasn’t a question, and she didn’t expect any more information on the matter. She knew how those people worked. The information did bring up an annoying urge to ask about another employee of the department. Maybe this woman knew him. Maybe she could ask.

Instead, she lifted her gaze to the ceiling briefly and shifted her belongings in her arms. A breath of air left her mouth in a soft huff - not a laugh, but an appreciation of the dry humor in the woman’s words. “I was meaning to go to the Atrium. I guess I was in too much of a hurry…” She trailed off as one of the items in her arms, a small stuffed animal (was it an elephant or a bunny? It was so beat up it was hard to tell) gave a baffled squeak.

“It’s not exactly a rush, though.” Not an emergency, that is.

Zoe · 04-03-2026, 07:25 PM

Coraline's gaze dipped, briefly and precisely, to the source of the squeak, her eyes lingering on the worn little creature for half a second longer than strictly necessary. There was a flicker of something there—not quite amusement, not quite curiosity—before her attention returned, neatly, to the present.

Her fingers brushed absently against the strap of her satchel, as though reassuring herself of the integrity of what lay within. The faint chiming of glass answered her touch, quieter this time. She smoothed her thumb over the strap without looking as the lift hummed with its continued ascent.

"Then it would seem we've both been carried along by someone else's intentions," she observed, tone even, analytical rather than inconvenienced. "Though I imagine the Atrium will be more forgiving of the detour than my department tends to be."

She shifted her weight slightly, settling into stillness as the numbers continued their ascent. Her eyes flicked once more to the illuminated panel, its deviation still occupying her thoughts.

"We can always correct the direction the lift is heading, since we both need to go down," Coraline added after a moment, her voice calm, assured. "Provided nothing else intervenes."

*squidnie* · 04-09-2026, 11:47 PM

Carried along by someone else’s intentions. Anna’s first inclination was to disagree and deny, simply because the insinuation that she would allow others to influence her behavior was the exact thing she’d been running from since leaving England all those years ago. However, she was able to catch onto the feeling and cool it. This poor woman in the lift had no idea how her seemingly-innocuous comment would land. It wasn’t her fault.

She gently scratched at the anxious elephant-bunny in her arms to give herself something tactile to focus on. Then she smiled, only a half-second too late to the woman’s words. “I’m sure you’re right. Although there’s a cup of tea expecting me shortly that may notice my absence.” Hopefully that sounded funny, and not as lonely as it felt leaving her mouth.

Her own gaze jumped to the panel as well. “We can intervene,” she replied, though her tone implied she may have been speaking to herself. She momentarily searched for her wand, remembered it was holstered on her arms which were currently full, and gave up. Instead she stepped forward to change the intended floor manually. They should stop at the next, then turn around and land at the atrium, then, “Level Nine,” she said remarkably cheerfully, stepping back again and resettling the items in her grip. There. Solved.

Zoe · 04-17-2026, 03:04 AM

Coraline watched the panel as Anna stepped forward, her gaze sharpening with a quiet, almost keen attentiveness as the selected floor shifted. There was a small, almost imperceptible pause in her posture as though she were measuring the response of the lift itself before the mechanism complied.

A soft chime answered, the ascent slowed, and then it stopped. For a fraction of a second, there was stillness. Then came the gentle, corrective lurch, subtle but unmistakable, followed by the smooth shift into descent.

The blonde exhaled, the tension in her shoulders easing by a degree so slight it would have gone unnoticed by most, though it softened the line of her posture all the same. Her fingers brushed once more against the strap of her satchel, a habitual motion, and the faint clink of glass answered like a quiet reassurance.

"Well corrected," she said after a beat, her tone measured but not ungenerous, the cadence of it deliberate. "It's remarkable how often the simplest intervention is the most effective."

Her eyes flicked briefly to Anna, then to the precariously balanced assortment in her arms, lingering—just for a moment—on the worn creature to analyze it for a fleeting moment.

"I suspect it will forgive you, your tea," she replied, the faintest trace of dry humour returning, subtle but present. "Most things do, given enough time."

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