Post by orion on Jan 21, 2012 19:17:34 GMT -8
December 6th, 7:05am
A mass of children swarmed past Orion. They were like a school of fish, engulfing him and flitting away, ever moving in their darting habits. Watching them go, Orion saw at least three major health concerns that troubled him. It wasn’t as if they weren’t being cared for…He saw it himself: clinics filled to capacity and people being turned away because there weren’t enough healers. It wasn’t just in the City, either, but all over London. Even St. Mungo’s was turning away cases simply because there weren’t enough people. All the while, he was standing here moping about trying to find something to do in the subterranean city. Sullivan had dropped hints at him multiple times about how everyone worked, everyone made a contribution, and every bit of help made a difference.
What’s to stop me from making a difference as a healer?
Well, first off, he’d need training. And secondly…well. There was no second point. He needed training. And hell, he was only eighteen. Many people his age were just getting into the work force. Surely he wasn’t unfit for actual work. And, he continued arguing with himself, it wasn’t as if the Burgess enterprise was in need of a new CEO right NOW. Besides, if he were to make his way in the world, should he make it with all the pomp and grandeur of making it a better place, or should he skulk in the shadows and wonder what the people in charge were going to shape the world into?
Orion cast a sneer at the over turned stone bowl of the cavern and made his way towards the flame that would allow him to travel out. Of course, returning would be much harder, given that he hadn’t been provided with the Shadow powder that allowed return to the city itself. The maze too, would be difficult, but he’d been practicing. He slowed to a stop, considering the nature of the thing he was about to undertake. If he were to become a healer, he’d be that much more useful to Sullivan. He’d warrant getting a supply of the powder at that point. Why didn’t he deserve it now, then? His mouth worked as he contemplated the issue. Would he return to the Hub and beg for the powder? Degrading and distasteful. Would he chance leaving and being unable to return? Frightening. Would he just simply leave, stating that he had things to take care of topside? Gemma wouldn’t be happy. He could take her with him. That would be fortuitous in the long run, but it would be difficult to secure right now. She would no doubt throw a fit if he were to leave without her.
Orion paced as he thought over the problem. The end result was obvious: One of the lieutenants would be easier to deal with than with Sullivan himself. And, as design would have it, McGarret was the closest. But…would the werewolf be at the bar at this hour? Would he even be in the city? Orion slapped his hand against a near wall, startling some refugee’s chickens. He was trapped in this lightless hell and he wasn’t able to muster the humility to ask Sullivan for his freedom. What the hell was he supposed to do?
A light hand on his shoulder turned his gaze back to the real world instead of his internal conflict. A doe-eyed witch was looking at him with a puzzled expression. He didn’t know her, and she apparently didn’t know him.
”Sir, are you alright? I’ve watched you for the past five minutes just pacing and mumbling to yourself…
Orion’ stared at the woman for several long seconds. She dropped her eyes immediately, and then flushed. She hesitantly looked back up at him with an odd determination set in her jaw. Her reaction confused the boy until he noticed the faint band of paler skin around her neck. She was a former slave, then. He felt his expression soften, and he explained his situation to the woman.
”I just feel trapped. I want to go out into London and get training as a healer…it isn’t that the healers here aren’t good enough…they’re just so busy I don’t think they’d have time to train me. But…I…ah dammit…I don’t know how I’d get back if I DID leave.”
He felt awkward, explaining his feelings to someone he didn’t even know. Her small smile surprised him, however, since it seemed almost nostalgic. What about his situation would make her happy? He tilted his head at her, trying to read her expression. Her eyes, luminously brown he noticed, drank in his face and reflected back the small happiness that curved her mouth. Her short, dark hair was a mess of soft spikes. It was hard to tell the exact color of it in the blue light of the mushrooms and gold light of the city, but it appeared to be dark brown. She drew a hand up to her face and caressed her cheek in thought. Orion noticed her hands and their strength right off. These hands had been accustomed to work and had a quiet strength about them. Bracelets on either wrist added color to her pale skin. They looked to be the woven cloth of a child’s making. He started to wonder at the significance of it. Was she one of the social workers here in the city? Did she have a family? Did she make them herself some time ago? Were they artifacts of a time before she was a part of the Syndicate? He started studying the rest of her, listening to his instincts. Knee length skirt and leggings, long sleeved shirt under a grey short sleeved hooded shirt, fingerless gloves, scarf, boots, belt with a belt purse…her whole look said ‘refugee’ to him. There were enough of those around that you picked up the general idea of the look quickly and applied it even more so. She broke his train of thought with her words, however, and managed to get his attention in one sentence.
”I used to be a nurse in St. Mungo’s, before the world went to hell. It’s good to see someone else wanting to take up the healer’s mantle. I’ve not had the heart to get back into it since coming here, though. I probably should. My name is Artemis. I’ve not seen you around before, have I?”[/b]
Now how was he supposed to answer that? A month ago, Sullivan had forced him into a very public, very sudden wedding. If she wasn’t there, she’d not recognize him. Artemis’ puzzled expression, however, spoke of a vague recognition. Maybe she hadn’t gone to the reception. A lot of people had opted out of that, preferring instead to go home. Orion couldn’t say that he blamed the people who left. He himself had wanted to leave far earlier than he had been able to, but had stayed as polite protocol required.
”Well, I was the groom in the wedding, a month ago. My name is Orion. It is a pleasure to meet you Miss Artemis.”
”Ah, of course! My son was sick, so we just watched the ceremony from the shore and didn’t go to the reception. It was a beautiful ceremony, however. Sully must think highly of you to have given you two such a high honor like that.”
Highly? Really? Maybe of Gemma, but not me…not yet.[/i]
Orion was surprised at her words. Sullivan never gave him the impression that he even liked the Burgess boy. The disdain, the scoffs, the dismissals, and the not-so-covert threats all combined to make Orion wary of the older man who ran the city with an iron fist. He cleared his throat to distract from the rapidly building awkward silence. As nice as it was to meet someone new, he wanted to get out of this city. To that end, he turned looked towards the district gate, thinking. Would she be able to help him? Or, a better question, would she be willing to help him?
What? You stiffened when I mentioned Sully. He’s a nice guy…well, sometimes. He can be an ass…what? Tell me, Orion!”[/b]
She grabbed his arm playfully and turned him back to look at her. Her smile…something about it quirked one from him as well, as odd as the expression was for him. She was dangerous in her own way, apparently. Not as dangerous as Gemma, perhaps, but Orion felt that this Artemis woman would draw something out of him in just the same way that Gemma did. Her playful attitude finally cajoled an explanation out of him. She started walking with him. At first, he was nearly dragged off of his feet, but he managed to get his legs caught up with the motion and they were walking together. Her arm was still entwined with his, and he didn’t know how to ask her to remove it without sounding rude. She didn’t seem to be flirting, so…it wouldn’t cause any harm, right?
”I actually think Sullivan hates me. I broke the defense of the maze, see….My wife and I were separated for a while. I returned to London to find her and wound up following her into the labyrinth and into the city. As soon as I arrived, I was hustled off to be interrogated. He’s dropped subtle and not so subtle hints about not liking me ever since. I think he watches me to make sure I’m not a spy.”
”Are you?”
“…no, but-“
”Then don’t worry what he thinks. If you want to get out and be a healer, would you bring your skills back to the city?”
“Yes, but-“
”Alright then. I’ll help you learn your way through the maze. I’ll lead you through it going out and then meet you back at the entrance at…say…five this evening? That’ll give you enough time to scout the different healing houses and then when you return, we can talk about which ones have a good reputation.”
“Wouldn’t St. Mungo’s be a better place to learn?”
”Oh if this was back before they started checking blood status before admitting cases, then yes, I’d tell you to go there. They have, however, stopped practicing good medicine…elitist jerks…”
“What do you mean by that?”
I mean that it’s horrible that they’ve turned people away at the door because they didn’t have the right paperwork in hand. Not only that, but they’ve called the Imperium Guard down on people before! It’s madness, what they’ve become.
“That…that’s horrible….”
”Yup, and that’s why the healing houses started springing up. So…go to those, ask around. Find one that’s neutral ground and got a good staff. You don’t want to go to one that takes sides in the political side of things…”
“Why’s that?”
”Hot heads on either side of the aisle have gotten into the nasty habit of burning them down.”
“What? With people still inside?!”
Orion stopped walking out of sheer shock. The political landscape was one thing. People always wanted things that others wanted to deny them. But…burning down hospitals? The grim look on Artemis’ face was enough to make him sick. For once, Orion was glad to support the Syndicate. He thought there was some plot afoot to bring down the current government. If such was the case, then Orion would support whoever put a stop to the terrorist events like that.
Their walk had brought them out of the city and to the middle of the bridge that spanned the lake that circled the city. Blue upon blue and deep black shadows surrounded the water and reflected back to meet Orion somewhere in the night of the cave. The city itself was a golden ember in the midst of the blackness. Was it some metaphor for hope or was it that the city lighting spells were just gold hued? Orion didn’t want to waste too much time thinking on it, so he turned back to Artemis. She wrapped her small frame with her arms and stared at the city. In the weird half light of the cave, she looked like a ghost. Her voice was thick when she spoke next.
”Aye, there are usually people still inside. Death Eaters don’t care, Orion.”
Her words stung him. He remembered last summer when his father had made him go through the initiation. Technically, HE was a Death Eater. But he didn’t want to be associated with the people who would destroy a hospital. He didn’t want to be a part of a society that condoned such evil. Was Sullivan so different though? Would he bring something different or was he going to be the same thing in a different flavor? Now wasn’t the time to think about that.
”Shall we go on, then?”
Artemis nodded and tore herself away from staring at the city. She led him straight on past the platform that had the eternal pyre and the guards who watched it. Orion didn’t know the two pale beings that stood guard, but he bet that they were Nosferatu. He turned away from them and back towards the cleft in the rock that Artemis was leading him towards. She waited for him at the mouth of the passage. She put a finger to her lips and pointed up at the ceiling. Thousands of things that looked like bats hung from the craggy roof. A closer inspection revealed them to be pruning shears that had been transfigured. The implication of being caught unaware by this flock was disturbing. Who came up with this stuff? Orion swallowed a smart remark and nodded, indicating that he understood that they’d need to be quiet. They carefully picked their way through the winding tunnel that housed the transfigured guardians and came to a bronze door. The woman placed the tip of her wand on the door and recited a rhyme.
”Sunshine gone and midnight bright, I travel to day from the endless night.”[/b]
Inside was what looked like an Egyptian funerary chamber, complete with statues guarding a sarcophagus. The far end of the room had a silver door. Each of the statues had baboon heads. In one hand they held a spear. The other was open, palm up, as if looking to receive something. Artemis went around the room in a specific pattern, placing her hand upon the statues’ hands. Something clicked and the lid of the sarcophagus slid sideways to reveal a stairway descending into blackness. Artemis ignited the tip of her wand and looked at Orion.
”The path is fairly simple from here…it is far easier to get out than in, but there are several paths. I’ll teach you all the ones I was shown. Same with getting in…there are multiple paths there, too, and some of them are quite dangerous.”[/b]
Orion nodded wordlessly and lit his wand. He followed the woman down into the blackness. There were hundreds of stone statues in the inkiness. The way they were lined up, like soldiers on parade, had the young man curious.
”What are these for?”
”Oh the statues? If the city defenses get breached, Sully has a spell that will bring these to life in defense of the entire city. This is one of the defense repositories. Supposedly, there are twenty such rooms…”
Orion held his wand aloft and became more aware of how paranoid Jacob Sullivan really was. His wand light didn’t pierce the depths of the room. And, if this was only one of twenty rooms, of equal volume… Orion stopped thinking about how crazy the man was. That craziness, the paranoia, may very well be the factor that protects Gemma and their children. Still…was the man a safe leader? Probably not.
The dark passage eventually became a corridor that sloped gradually up. The condition of the architecture changed as well. What was dry stone and concrete became more damp. The floors became brick. The walls went from squared hallways into curved brick tunnels that oozed with mold. Through the slime covered walls, Orion heard the churning and grinding sound of machinery. Where were they? Several branching cross-passages began presenting themselves, but Artemis never veered from the path straight ahead. A dim light in the passage ahead heralded a room. His guide stopped in the center of the room, right over a grated drain.
”This room isn’t tricky per se, but I want you to look up. We’re at the bottom of a well on a piece of abandoned property in London. Well, it’s not really abandoned. It’s owned by the Syndicate. I’ll show it to you some other day so that you can use it if you need to…it’s a safe house and an emergency entrance to the labyrinth if you need one. You can’t get down the well, but a trap door in one of the closets gets you in at…oh geeze, what room was it…not the library, not the aquarium….um…I’ll find out later, but anyway…Before you ask, no you can’t get in through the well…you’d think so, but if anyone tried, the floor drops out from under them and into a pit filled with Dementors. Nasty bit of work. Anyway, let’s go on.”[/b]
Orion looked up at the knut sized patch of grey above them. That was the sky. He’d not seen it in so long…He brought his attention back to the tunnel system. Following the earlier trend, they went straight ahead. The floor continued sloping upward. Eventually, the brick flooring gave out to packed dirt. The walls lost their mold and slime covering, and a breeze began blowing on Orion’s face. They were nearing the surface rapidly now. A low glow ahead marked the exit. An arched portal, engulfed in white flames, waited before the pair.
Artemis looked at Orion and smiled.
”Here, we part. Once you go through that door, you won’t reappear in this hallway should you turn around and try to come back. Still, meet me where it leaves you, and I’ll show you the other entrances in the area. I wish you the best of luck, Orion. From one hunter to another.”[/b]
She braced her hands on his chest and stood on her top toes, kissing him on the cheek. Orion was taken aback at the gesture, not sure what to think about it. It wasn’t appropriate for a woman to kiss a married man like that, he felt. She didn’t mean anything romantic about it, he felt, but it was awkward for him. He stepped back after she was done and offered her his own smile. He waved farewell and stepped through the door and into London.
The light dazzled him, despite the overcast weather. He was dressed appropriately for the weather though, in a dark trench coat over a tasteful, charcoal suit. His wand was secure inside his coat. He took a moment, leaning against the door post he just came out of, to assess his surroundings and readjust to the light of the world. The surroundings were simple enough to place: an alley, strewn with trash, and dotted with dumpsters. It was classy, in a Syndicate way. The smell alone was enough to make him sure that there weren’t any people hanging around to be surprised by his appearance. He stepped off the porch and down the stairs leading up to the…he turned to see exactly what type of building it was… industrial warehouse of some sort that was abandoned, judging by the broken windows. The whole structure was familiar somehow, and Orion had to step back and stare at the sky to remember exactly when and where he’d seen this area before.
It hit him suddenly. This was the same warehouse he, DC, Gemma, Sofi, Alexi, and Kira had talked to the werewolf Fang about his life. This was the same industrial park that led to Knockturn alley. He smiled at the realization and oriented himself to enter the Wizarding world. Time was wasting, as they said, and he had to not only find the healing houses, but then find out more about them.
His first stop was the Duck and Dagger to get information. The odd café was pleasingly helpful, offering a directory of services in the local area. Healing houses were apparently scarce, as only four were in the directory. With the aid of a map and an unusually helpful barista, Orion plotted his day’s ventures. Three were relatively close and one only moderately far. All were pleasingly within walking distance, so Orion set out.
The first place was a huge disappointment. Dingy walls covered in a disturbingly grey, peeling wall paper housed disturbed witches and wizards who were being taken care of by a frantic, obviously overworked staff. This was more of an elderly care home than a hospice, Orion realized. He said his polite words to the owners, made rounds in the tour, and tried to not throw up at some of the festering wounds that were being barely treated at all. It was most definitely not what he had in mind for becoming a healer.
”Thank you much for the tour, Mr. Sander, but I think I’m going to keep looking…”
He set off again, face in the wind. The chill air swept the stench of body waste from his nose and cleaned the moaning and whimpering cries of patients from his ears. Hands jammed into his pockets against the cold, Orion kept moving forward to the next healing house. It was several blocks away, and was rumored to be top notch. At least, the barista had said it was rumored to be so. The streets turned from shopping to residential in a subtle fade. Many of the houses in the neighborhood sported signs out front advertising home businesses. The hospice turned out to be one of those. Unfortunately, it also boasted a sign warning off all mudbloods. Orion kept walking.
Mudbloods versus purebloods…did it matter? It seemed rather silly, when he sat down and thought about it. It seemed more important how the person handled magic, not who their parents were. In the end, a witch and a wizard were still magical, and muggles were not. By that extension, though, given the number of mixed blood and muggleborn witches and wizards, even that didn’t matter. It was dawning on Orion that the whole blood status thing and the wizard versus muggle debate was as silly as someone with blue eyes considering themselves better than someone with brown eyes. Wasn’t the point of power to do something with it? Therein lay the problem: people with power WERE doing things with their authority, and it was oppressing those who didn’t have the power. To reach a step further, there were far more people being oppressed and abused than there were in power. The whole situation was beginning to look more and more like a tinderbox waiting for a match, or a cauldron waiting to boil over. Orion realized all of a sudden that Sullivan intended to be that match. Seeing the man’s resources and planning, Orion’s level of respect for the Syndicate leader went up several notches. He was shrewd, canny, and paranoid. He was a master at spellwork, and seemed to not only be able to create comprehensive plans, but enact them as well. The labyrinth itself was his design, wasn’t it? It was complex enough that Orion had trouble with it, and he was no academic slouch.
Maybe I should give the man some credit and some respect…he’s done a well enough job with the city he has…and if I were in his shoes and someone like me broke the defenses, I’d be pissed at them too…
His sudden empathy with Jake was odd. Not uncomfortable or unexpected, just odd. Orion had worked at developing empathy and trying to see how others felt so that he would be able to relate better. His lack of social skills was his biggest downfall, and he’d needed something to work on in the intervening month between his arrival at the city and now. So far, he felt, so good. That he was able to empathize with a closed off man like Sullivan made him feel accomplished.
Checking his self made map, Orion saw that he’d need to turn left soon, and continue for several more blocks. The walking was warming him up in the brisk fall air, and it felt good to be outside of the circular city. The trees, he noticed, were skeletal and desperate in their skyward clawing. There was a beauty in their seasonal death, and it was quite interesting to think about as he walked the streets of London. The houses along the street were quaint, and as old as the tall elms that edged their property. Well manicured lawns and hedges, dormant in the coming winter’s grasp, added to the colors that Orion was no longer used to seeing. He noticed a woman peering out of her window at him, so he raised a hand in greeting. Hesitantly, she waved back and closed the curtain. He smirked after her retreat and looked back at the sidewalk.
Leaves crunched under his shoes, releasing a musty sweet smell. He savored the odor and hunched his shoulders under the coat. The weather itself wasn’t his favorite, but it was a welcome change after the constant atmosphere of the cave. To see other colors besides blue, black, gold, and grey made his heart happy. Perhaps moving Gemma out of the city and into the Burgess Manor was the thing to do. After all, they would still be able to get the work done the Syndicate needed and they would have access to the better workrooms of the Manor. Not to mention, of course, the libraries, the grounds, the privacy. Yes, he’d mention it to Gemma the next time they talked.
Ahead, the hospice came into view. It was quaint enough, and modestly taken care of. Over all, the building blended well with the muggle buildings surrounding it. He stepped up onto the wide porch and knocked on the door. An old woman answered it.
”Is this the Buchenwald house?”
The woman’s furtive looks up and down the abandoned street and quick beckoning in made him slightly suspicious of the whole thing. She didn’t say a word but led him through a sitting room, through the kitchen, and down into a cellar. Once there, she turned to him. She spoke in a heavily accented voice.
”Are you with Ministry? You are so young, I do not think young boy like you is with Ministry. What healing you need from Buchenwald house?”
“Actually, I was wondering if I was able to receive training here….and no, I’m not with the ministry. Actually, I’m…I’m rather opposed to it.”
The old woman’s face relaxed at his declaration of being against the ministry, but she wasn’t open about training him.
”No, no, no…we do not have staff for training, nor case load to train properly…you better off somewhere else, darling.”
Orion hid his disappointment and followed the woman back to the front door. She waved goodbye and wished him well. Before he knew it, however, he was headed to his last hope. Harding House was out of the way, and the afternoon was wearing thin. He pointed himself in the proper direction and began walking. It would take him nearly half an hour just to arrive at the house, and by that time, he really hoped it wouldn’t be another waste. His prospects were thin, at this point. Either he went with the first place and guaranteed his training to be a hellish nightmare of bedpans and dementia, or he went with the bigoted hospice and wound up receiving a healthy dose of propaganda along with his training. That in itself was unsavory. He’d be better off going to St. Mungo’s if it came down to it. Hopefully, the house up ahead was not only neutral but well taken care of. His standards were perhaps a bit high, but health and cleanliness were inexorably linked. It was known for centuries now that clean rooms and things were better for preventing infection than dirty things. As a potions master, he took a certain pride in maintaining a clean work space and clean tools. It prevented cross contamination and promoted a healthy mindset that allowed for methodical, precise potion making. That mindset in turn fostered the environment for good potion work, which resulted in good potions.
Good potions. That was a selling point, he thought. A lot of the healing work done today with the lack of competent staff was done with potions. Nobody could sling a cauldron as well as he could. He therefore required less training in that department. Honestly, he probably didn’t require that much training at all. As soon as he found a place up to his standards for training, that was. He kept walking. The houses eventually grew closer together, newer, and less impressive in their landscaping. Soon, the lawns were no more than strips of grass and the houses were large, monotonous tract houses. He turned on a street and kept walking. Traffic was heavier near here and the fumes made the air noxious. Orion resisted the urge to cover his nose or breathe through his coat. To do so would be childish. Besides, the other pedestrians weren’t behaving that way. In fact, many of them were dressed like the refugees in the Syndicate city. The mismatched clothing, the gaunt looks, the odd looks he was getting. In a moment, he didn’t feel safe. He checked the address that he was headed towards again and noted he was on the wrong street. He’d walked too far, it seemed.
Orion turned onto a perpendicular street that would intersect with where he wanted to be. Growling under his breath about out of the way locations, he kept walking. Who knew how much time he had lost with the little detour? Still, it was informative even if it was wasteful. Muggles looked to be as poorly off as refugees. What was happening in their society that would drive them to such extremes of dress? It wasn’t normal.
The return to suburbia was welcome. The houses were covered in ivy and were large, sprawling things that seemed to be the younger cousins of Burgess Manor. Orion felt comfortable among the brick and ivy. His walk relaxed and he began enjoying the scenery again. Some starlings bounced around a yard, making their chipping song heard. He watched the drab little birds with a smile on his face before moving on. The house numbers counted down and down and eventually, he found it. Harding House, home of a well reputed healer. He walked up and knocked on the door, hoping that this would be the place that helped him achieve his goal.
A mass of children swarmed past Orion. They were like a school of fish, engulfing him and flitting away, ever moving in their darting habits. Watching them go, Orion saw at least three major health concerns that troubled him. It wasn’t as if they weren’t being cared for…He saw it himself: clinics filled to capacity and people being turned away because there weren’t enough healers. It wasn’t just in the City, either, but all over London. Even St. Mungo’s was turning away cases simply because there weren’t enough people. All the while, he was standing here moping about trying to find something to do in the subterranean city. Sullivan had dropped hints at him multiple times about how everyone worked, everyone made a contribution, and every bit of help made a difference.
What’s to stop me from making a difference as a healer?
Well, first off, he’d need training. And secondly…well. There was no second point. He needed training. And hell, he was only eighteen. Many people his age were just getting into the work force. Surely he wasn’t unfit for actual work. And, he continued arguing with himself, it wasn’t as if the Burgess enterprise was in need of a new CEO right NOW. Besides, if he were to make his way in the world, should he make it with all the pomp and grandeur of making it a better place, or should he skulk in the shadows and wonder what the people in charge were going to shape the world into?
Orion cast a sneer at the over turned stone bowl of the cavern and made his way towards the flame that would allow him to travel out. Of course, returning would be much harder, given that he hadn’t been provided with the Shadow powder that allowed return to the city itself. The maze too, would be difficult, but he’d been practicing. He slowed to a stop, considering the nature of the thing he was about to undertake. If he were to become a healer, he’d be that much more useful to Sullivan. He’d warrant getting a supply of the powder at that point. Why didn’t he deserve it now, then? His mouth worked as he contemplated the issue. Would he return to the Hub and beg for the powder? Degrading and distasteful. Would he chance leaving and being unable to return? Frightening. Would he just simply leave, stating that he had things to take care of topside? Gemma wouldn’t be happy. He could take her with him. That would be fortuitous in the long run, but it would be difficult to secure right now. She would no doubt throw a fit if he were to leave without her.
Orion paced as he thought over the problem. The end result was obvious: One of the lieutenants would be easier to deal with than with Sullivan himself. And, as design would have it, McGarret was the closest. But…would the werewolf be at the bar at this hour? Would he even be in the city? Orion slapped his hand against a near wall, startling some refugee’s chickens. He was trapped in this lightless hell and he wasn’t able to muster the humility to ask Sullivan for his freedom. What the hell was he supposed to do?
A light hand on his shoulder turned his gaze back to the real world instead of his internal conflict. A doe-eyed witch was looking at him with a puzzled expression. He didn’t know her, and she apparently didn’t know him.
”Sir, are you alright? I’ve watched you for the past five minutes just pacing and mumbling to yourself…
Orion’ stared at the woman for several long seconds. She dropped her eyes immediately, and then flushed. She hesitantly looked back up at him with an odd determination set in her jaw. Her reaction confused the boy until he noticed the faint band of paler skin around her neck. She was a former slave, then. He felt his expression soften, and he explained his situation to the woman.
”I just feel trapped. I want to go out into London and get training as a healer…it isn’t that the healers here aren’t good enough…they’re just so busy I don’t think they’d have time to train me. But…I…ah dammit…I don’t know how I’d get back if I DID leave.”
He felt awkward, explaining his feelings to someone he didn’t even know. Her small smile surprised him, however, since it seemed almost nostalgic. What about his situation would make her happy? He tilted his head at her, trying to read her expression. Her eyes, luminously brown he noticed, drank in his face and reflected back the small happiness that curved her mouth. Her short, dark hair was a mess of soft spikes. It was hard to tell the exact color of it in the blue light of the mushrooms and gold light of the city, but it appeared to be dark brown. She drew a hand up to her face and caressed her cheek in thought. Orion noticed her hands and their strength right off. These hands had been accustomed to work and had a quiet strength about them. Bracelets on either wrist added color to her pale skin. They looked to be the woven cloth of a child’s making. He started to wonder at the significance of it. Was she one of the social workers here in the city? Did she have a family? Did she make them herself some time ago? Were they artifacts of a time before she was a part of the Syndicate? He started studying the rest of her, listening to his instincts. Knee length skirt and leggings, long sleeved shirt under a grey short sleeved hooded shirt, fingerless gloves, scarf, boots, belt with a belt purse…her whole look said ‘refugee’ to him. There were enough of those around that you picked up the general idea of the look quickly and applied it even more so. She broke his train of thought with her words, however, and managed to get his attention in one sentence.
”I used to be a nurse in St. Mungo’s, before the world went to hell. It’s good to see someone else wanting to take up the healer’s mantle. I’ve not had the heart to get back into it since coming here, though. I probably should. My name is Artemis. I’ve not seen you around before, have I?”[/b]
Now how was he supposed to answer that? A month ago, Sullivan had forced him into a very public, very sudden wedding. If she wasn’t there, she’d not recognize him. Artemis’ puzzled expression, however, spoke of a vague recognition. Maybe she hadn’t gone to the reception. A lot of people had opted out of that, preferring instead to go home. Orion couldn’t say that he blamed the people who left. He himself had wanted to leave far earlier than he had been able to, but had stayed as polite protocol required.
”Well, I was the groom in the wedding, a month ago. My name is Orion. It is a pleasure to meet you Miss Artemis.”
”Ah, of course! My son was sick, so we just watched the ceremony from the shore and didn’t go to the reception. It was a beautiful ceremony, however. Sully must think highly of you to have given you two such a high honor like that.”
Highly? Really? Maybe of Gemma, but not me…not yet.[/i]
Orion was surprised at her words. Sullivan never gave him the impression that he even liked the Burgess boy. The disdain, the scoffs, the dismissals, and the not-so-covert threats all combined to make Orion wary of the older man who ran the city with an iron fist. He cleared his throat to distract from the rapidly building awkward silence. As nice as it was to meet someone new, he wanted to get out of this city. To that end, he turned looked towards the district gate, thinking. Would she be able to help him? Or, a better question, would she be willing to help him?
What? You stiffened when I mentioned Sully. He’s a nice guy…well, sometimes. He can be an ass…what? Tell me, Orion!”[/b]
She grabbed his arm playfully and turned him back to look at her. Her smile…something about it quirked one from him as well, as odd as the expression was for him. She was dangerous in her own way, apparently. Not as dangerous as Gemma, perhaps, but Orion felt that this Artemis woman would draw something out of him in just the same way that Gemma did. Her playful attitude finally cajoled an explanation out of him. She started walking with him. At first, he was nearly dragged off of his feet, but he managed to get his legs caught up with the motion and they were walking together. Her arm was still entwined with his, and he didn’t know how to ask her to remove it without sounding rude. She didn’t seem to be flirting, so…it wouldn’t cause any harm, right?
”I actually think Sullivan hates me. I broke the defense of the maze, see….My wife and I were separated for a while. I returned to London to find her and wound up following her into the labyrinth and into the city. As soon as I arrived, I was hustled off to be interrogated. He’s dropped subtle and not so subtle hints about not liking me ever since. I think he watches me to make sure I’m not a spy.”
”Are you?”
“…no, but-“
”Then don’t worry what he thinks. If you want to get out and be a healer, would you bring your skills back to the city?”
“Yes, but-“
”Alright then. I’ll help you learn your way through the maze. I’ll lead you through it going out and then meet you back at the entrance at…say…five this evening? That’ll give you enough time to scout the different healing houses and then when you return, we can talk about which ones have a good reputation.”
“Wouldn’t St. Mungo’s be a better place to learn?”
”Oh if this was back before they started checking blood status before admitting cases, then yes, I’d tell you to go there. They have, however, stopped practicing good medicine…elitist jerks…”
“What do you mean by that?”
I mean that it’s horrible that they’ve turned people away at the door because they didn’t have the right paperwork in hand. Not only that, but they’ve called the Imperium Guard down on people before! It’s madness, what they’ve become.
“That…that’s horrible….”
”Yup, and that’s why the healing houses started springing up. So…go to those, ask around. Find one that’s neutral ground and got a good staff. You don’t want to go to one that takes sides in the political side of things…”
“Why’s that?”
”Hot heads on either side of the aisle have gotten into the nasty habit of burning them down.”
“What? With people still inside?!”
Orion stopped walking out of sheer shock. The political landscape was one thing. People always wanted things that others wanted to deny them. But…burning down hospitals? The grim look on Artemis’ face was enough to make him sick. For once, Orion was glad to support the Syndicate. He thought there was some plot afoot to bring down the current government. If such was the case, then Orion would support whoever put a stop to the terrorist events like that.
Their walk had brought them out of the city and to the middle of the bridge that spanned the lake that circled the city. Blue upon blue and deep black shadows surrounded the water and reflected back to meet Orion somewhere in the night of the cave. The city itself was a golden ember in the midst of the blackness. Was it some metaphor for hope or was it that the city lighting spells were just gold hued? Orion didn’t want to waste too much time thinking on it, so he turned back to Artemis. She wrapped her small frame with her arms and stared at the city. In the weird half light of the cave, she looked like a ghost. Her voice was thick when she spoke next.
”Aye, there are usually people still inside. Death Eaters don’t care, Orion.”
Her words stung him. He remembered last summer when his father had made him go through the initiation. Technically, HE was a Death Eater. But he didn’t want to be associated with the people who would destroy a hospital. He didn’t want to be a part of a society that condoned such evil. Was Sullivan so different though? Would he bring something different or was he going to be the same thing in a different flavor? Now wasn’t the time to think about that.
”Shall we go on, then?”
Artemis nodded and tore herself away from staring at the city. She led him straight on past the platform that had the eternal pyre and the guards who watched it. Orion didn’t know the two pale beings that stood guard, but he bet that they were Nosferatu. He turned away from them and back towards the cleft in the rock that Artemis was leading him towards. She waited for him at the mouth of the passage. She put a finger to her lips and pointed up at the ceiling. Thousands of things that looked like bats hung from the craggy roof. A closer inspection revealed them to be pruning shears that had been transfigured. The implication of being caught unaware by this flock was disturbing. Who came up with this stuff? Orion swallowed a smart remark and nodded, indicating that he understood that they’d need to be quiet. They carefully picked their way through the winding tunnel that housed the transfigured guardians and came to a bronze door. The woman placed the tip of her wand on the door and recited a rhyme.
”Sunshine gone and midnight bright, I travel to day from the endless night.”[/b]
Inside was what looked like an Egyptian funerary chamber, complete with statues guarding a sarcophagus. The far end of the room had a silver door. Each of the statues had baboon heads. In one hand they held a spear. The other was open, palm up, as if looking to receive something. Artemis went around the room in a specific pattern, placing her hand upon the statues’ hands. Something clicked and the lid of the sarcophagus slid sideways to reveal a stairway descending into blackness. Artemis ignited the tip of her wand and looked at Orion.
”The path is fairly simple from here…it is far easier to get out than in, but there are several paths. I’ll teach you all the ones I was shown. Same with getting in…there are multiple paths there, too, and some of them are quite dangerous.”[/b]
Orion nodded wordlessly and lit his wand. He followed the woman down into the blackness. There were hundreds of stone statues in the inkiness. The way they were lined up, like soldiers on parade, had the young man curious.
”What are these for?”
”Oh the statues? If the city defenses get breached, Sully has a spell that will bring these to life in defense of the entire city. This is one of the defense repositories. Supposedly, there are twenty such rooms…”
Orion held his wand aloft and became more aware of how paranoid Jacob Sullivan really was. His wand light didn’t pierce the depths of the room. And, if this was only one of twenty rooms, of equal volume… Orion stopped thinking about how crazy the man was. That craziness, the paranoia, may very well be the factor that protects Gemma and their children. Still…was the man a safe leader? Probably not.
The dark passage eventually became a corridor that sloped gradually up. The condition of the architecture changed as well. What was dry stone and concrete became more damp. The floors became brick. The walls went from squared hallways into curved brick tunnels that oozed with mold. Through the slime covered walls, Orion heard the churning and grinding sound of machinery. Where were they? Several branching cross-passages began presenting themselves, but Artemis never veered from the path straight ahead. A dim light in the passage ahead heralded a room. His guide stopped in the center of the room, right over a grated drain.
”This room isn’t tricky per se, but I want you to look up. We’re at the bottom of a well on a piece of abandoned property in London. Well, it’s not really abandoned. It’s owned by the Syndicate. I’ll show it to you some other day so that you can use it if you need to…it’s a safe house and an emergency entrance to the labyrinth if you need one. You can’t get down the well, but a trap door in one of the closets gets you in at…oh geeze, what room was it…not the library, not the aquarium….um…I’ll find out later, but anyway…Before you ask, no you can’t get in through the well…you’d think so, but if anyone tried, the floor drops out from under them and into a pit filled with Dementors. Nasty bit of work. Anyway, let’s go on.”[/b]
Orion looked up at the knut sized patch of grey above them. That was the sky. He’d not seen it in so long…He brought his attention back to the tunnel system. Following the earlier trend, they went straight ahead. The floor continued sloping upward. Eventually, the brick flooring gave out to packed dirt. The walls lost their mold and slime covering, and a breeze began blowing on Orion’s face. They were nearing the surface rapidly now. A low glow ahead marked the exit. An arched portal, engulfed in white flames, waited before the pair.
Artemis looked at Orion and smiled.
”Here, we part. Once you go through that door, you won’t reappear in this hallway should you turn around and try to come back. Still, meet me where it leaves you, and I’ll show you the other entrances in the area. I wish you the best of luck, Orion. From one hunter to another.”[/b]
She braced her hands on his chest and stood on her top toes, kissing him on the cheek. Orion was taken aback at the gesture, not sure what to think about it. It wasn’t appropriate for a woman to kiss a married man like that, he felt. She didn’t mean anything romantic about it, he felt, but it was awkward for him. He stepped back after she was done and offered her his own smile. He waved farewell and stepped through the door and into London.
The light dazzled him, despite the overcast weather. He was dressed appropriately for the weather though, in a dark trench coat over a tasteful, charcoal suit. His wand was secure inside his coat. He took a moment, leaning against the door post he just came out of, to assess his surroundings and readjust to the light of the world. The surroundings were simple enough to place: an alley, strewn with trash, and dotted with dumpsters. It was classy, in a Syndicate way. The smell alone was enough to make him sure that there weren’t any people hanging around to be surprised by his appearance. He stepped off the porch and down the stairs leading up to the…he turned to see exactly what type of building it was… industrial warehouse of some sort that was abandoned, judging by the broken windows. The whole structure was familiar somehow, and Orion had to step back and stare at the sky to remember exactly when and where he’d seen this area before.
It hit him suddenly. This was the same warehouse he, DC, Gemma, Sofi, Alexi, and Kira had talked to the werewolf Fang about his life. This was the same industrial park that led to Knockturn alley. He smiled at the realization and oriented himself to enter the Wizarding world. Time was wasting, as they said, and he had to not only find the healing houses, but then find out more about them.
His first stop was the Duck and Dagger to get information. The odd café was pleasingly helpful, offering a directory of services in the local area. Healing houses were apparently scarce, as only four were in the directory. With the aid of a map and an unusually helpful barista, Orion plotted his day’s ventures. Three were relatively close and one only moderately far. All were pleasingly within walking distance, so Orion set out.
The first place was a huge disappointment. Dingy walls covered in a disturbingly grey, peeling wall paper housed disturbed witches and wizards who were being taken care of by a frantic, obviously overworked staff. This was more of an elderly care home than a hospice, Orion realized. He said his polite words to the owners, made rounds in the tour, and tried to not throw up at some of the festering wounds that were being barely treated at all. It was most definitely not what he had in mind for becoming a healer.
”Thank you much for the tour, Mr. Sander, but I think I’m going to keep looking…”
He set off again, face in the wind. The chill air swept the stench of body waste from his nose and cleaned the moaning and whimpering cries of patients from his ears. Hands jammed into his pockets against the cold, Orion kept moving forward to the next healing house. It was several blocks away, and was rumored to be top notch. At least, the barista had said it was rumored to be so. The streets turned from shopping to residential in a subtle fade. Many of the houses in the neighborhood sported signs out front advertising home businesses. The hospice turned out to be one of those. Unfortunately, it also boasted a sign warning off all mudbloods. Orion kept walking.
Mudbloods versus purebloods…did it matter? It seemed rather silly, when he sat down and thought about it. It seemed more important how the person handled magic, not who their parents were. In the end, a witch and a wizard were still magical, and muggles were not. By that extension, though, given the number of mixed blood and muggleborn witches and wizards, even that didn’t matter. It was dawning on Orion that the whole blood status thing and the wizard versus muggle debate was as silly as someone with blue eyes considering themselves better than someone with brown eyes. Wasn’t the point of power to do something with it? Therein lay the problem: people with power WERE doing things with their authority, and it was oppressing those who didn’t have the power. To reach a step further, there were far more people being oppressed and abused than there were in power. The whole situation was beginning to look more and more like a tinderbox waiting for a match, or a cauldron waiting to boil over. Orion realized all of a sudden that Sullivan intended to be that match. Seeing the man’s resources and planning, Orion’s level of respect for the Syndicate leader went up several notches. He was shrewd, canny, and paranoid. He was a master at spellwork, and seemed to not only be able to create comprehensive plans, but enact them as well. The labyrinth itself was his design, wasn’t it? It was complex enough that Orion had trouble with it, and he was no academic slouch.
Maybe I should give the man some credit and some respect…he’s done a well enough job with the city he has…and if I were in his shoes and someone like me broke the defenses, I’d be pissed at them too…
His sudden empathy with Jake was odd. Not uncomfortable or unexpected, just odd. Orion had worked at developing empathy and trying to see how others felt so that he would be able to relate better. His lack of social skills was his biggest downfall, and he’d needed something to work on in the intervening month between his arrival at the city and now. So far, he felt, so good. That he was able to empathize with a closed off man like Sullivan made him feel accomplished.
Checking his self made map, Orion saw that he’d need to turn left soon, and continue for several more blocks. The walking was warming him up in the brisk fall air, and it felt good to be outside of the circular city. The trees, he noticed, were skeletal and desperate in their skyward clawing. There was a beauty in their seasonal death, and it was quite interesting to think about as he walked the streets of London. The houses along the street were quaint, and as old as the tall elms that edged their property. Well manicured lawns and hedges, dormant in the coming winter’s grasp, added to the colors that Orion was no longer used to seeing. He noticed a woman peering out of her window at him, so he raised a hand in greeting. Hesitantly, she waved back and closed the curtain. He smirked after her retreat and looked back at the sidewalk.
Leaves crunched under his shoes, releasing a musty sweet smell. He savored the odor and hunched his shoulders under the coat. The weather itself wasn’t his favorite, but it was a welcome change after the constant atmosphere of the cave. To see other colors besides blue, black, gold, and grey made his heart happy. Perhaps moving Gemma out of the city and into the Burgess Manor was the thing to do. After all, they would still be able to get the work done the Syndicate needed and they would have access to the better workrooms of the Manor. Not to mention, of course, the libraries, the grounds, the privacy. Yes, he’d mention it to Gemma the next time they talked.
Ahead, the hospice came into view. It was quaint enough, and modestly taken care of. Over all, the building blended well with the muggle buildings surrounding it. He stepped up onto the wide porch and knocked on the door. An old woman answered it.
”Is this the Buchenwald house?”
The woman’s furtive looks up and down the abandoned street and quick beckoning in made him slightly suspicious of the whole thing. She didn’t say a word but led him through a sitting room, through the kitchen, and down into a cellar. Once there, she turned to him. She spoke in a heavily accented voice.
”Are you with Ministry? You are so young, I do not think young boy like you is with Ministry. What healing you need from Buchenwald house?”
“Actually, I was wondering if I was able to receive training here….and no, I’m not with the ministry. Actually, I’m…I’m rather opposed to it.”
The old woman’s face relaxed at his declaration of being against the ministry, but she wasn’t open about training him.
”No, no, no…we do not have staff for training, nor case load to train properly…you better off somewhere else, darling.”
Orion hid his disappointment and followed the woman back to the front door. She waved goodbye and wished him well. Before he knew it, however, he was headed to his last hope. Harding House was out of the way, and the afternoon was wearing thin. He pointed himself in the proper direction and began walking. It would take him nearly half an hour just to arrive at the house, and by that time, he really hoped it wouldn’t be another waste. His prospects were thin, at this point. Either he went with the first place and guaranteed his training to be a hellish nightmare of bedpans and dementia, or he went with the bigoted hospice and wound up receiving a healthy dose of propaganda along with his training. That in itself was unsavory. He’d be better off going to St. Mungo’s if it came down to it. Hopefully, the house up ahead was not only neutral but well taken care of. His standards were perhaps a bit high, but health and cleanliness were inexorably linked. It was known for centuries now that clean rooms and things were better for preventing infection than dirty things. As a potions master, he took a certain pride in maintaining a clean work space and clean tools. It prevented cross contamination and promoted a healthy mindset that allowed for methodical, precise potion making. That mindset in turn fostered the environment for good potion work, which resulted in good potions.
Good potions. That was a selling point, he thought. A lot of the healing work done today with the lack of competent staff was done with potions. Nobody could sling a cauldron as well as he could. He therefore required less training in that department. Honestly, he probably didn’t require that much training at all. As soon as he found a place up to his standards for training, that was. He kept walking. The houses eventually grew closer together, newer, and less impressive in their landscaping. Soon, the lawns were no more than strips of grass and the houses were large, monotonous tract houses. He turned on a street and kept walking. Traffic was heavier near here and the fumes made the air noxious. Orion resisted the urge to cover his nose or breathe through his coat. To do so would be childish. Besides, the other pedestrians weren’t behaving that way. In fact, many of them were dressed like the refugees in the Syndicate city. The mismatched clothing, the gaunt looks, the odd looks he was getting. In a moment, he didn’t feel safe. He checked the address that he was headed towards again and noted he was on the wrong street. He’d walked too far, it seemed.
Orion turned onto a perpendicular street that would intersect with where he wanted to be. Growling under his breath about out of the way locations, he kept walking. Who knew how much time he had lost with the little detour? Still, it was informative even if it was wasteful. Muggles looked to be as poorly off as refugees. What was happening in their society that would drive them to such extremes of dress? It wasn’t normal.
The return to suburbia was welcome. The houses were covered in ivy and were large, sprawling things that seemed to be the younger cousins of Burgess Manor. Orion felt comfortable among the brick and ivy. His walk relaxed and he began enjoying the scenery again. Some starlings bounced around a yard, making their chipping song heard. He watched the drab little birds with a smile on his face before moving on. The house numbers counted down and down and eventually, he found it. Harding House, home of a well reputed healer. He walked up and knocked on the door, hoping that this would be the place that helped him achieve his goal.