Post by sezja on Mar 9, 2010 1:17:01 GMT -8
(It may not be quite in-between, but it's pretty long ago, and I was really itching to write it out.)
6:45 am
February 16th, 2010
King's Cross Station, London
6:45 am
February 16th, 2010
King's Cross Station, London
The station was already bustling. Nobody looked awake. That had been the first thing she'd noticed when she'd come here for the first time, months ago -- and then it had been the middle of the day. No one seemed awake here, and it looked as if it were intentional. Sezja Sokolova folded her arms around herself, pulling her nondescript double-breasted black coat closer about her to fight the chill. She watched with wary eyes as a train pulled up the platform at which she sat and more tired-looking people poured out, refusing to look at each other, each doing little dance steps to avoid touching another human being. The world had been overturned two days ago; who knew who that lady with the little dog could be, or her pinch-nosed husband? If Walter Crane could be Harold Masters and Trevor Williams could be the Lord of wizarding UK, then they could be anyone. Death was anywhere and everywhere.
Sezja gingerly smoothed out the paper that she held in her gloved hand, her eyes going over it for the millionth time. It was half in English and half in Russian, hurried and desperate. Ink blots abounded. My sister... do not risk it... the attacks are targeting... qualifications make no difference... no safety in England... And no signature at the bottom. No clipped, professional little Adaline King with a flourish on the final 'G'. No time, perhaps? In the months of peace that marked the end of 2009, Sezja had dared to hope that Ada might resurface, or at least some promising rumour of her whereabouts. Perhaps she was one of the many in hiding. Feeling a tear make it's way down her cheek, she hastily brushed it away to halt it's progress onto the precious, final missive from her friend. If she was not in hiding, than she was a slave, a prisoner or dead. Let her be hidden. Let her be safe.
Sezja thought back to two weeks prior, when she had caught a thief and in the process gained some purpose: The Order of the Pheonix; S.A.V.I.O.R. The wand shop had been a diversion at first, a reason to keep going among the death of all that she held dear. She felt terribly alone. Her entire family was gone now and she was in a strange country with no friends, a half-blood where anything less was without rights. Now, in addition, she was part of an organisation whose members were prime for execution if caught by the government. Was she cut out for this? Did she have a choice? She needed a miracle.