◎ c h a r l i e (spinnets) wrote in valesco,
@ 2009-08-05 21:33:00

Entry tags:

chester scabior, christopher loftus, derek dobbs, diagon alley, earthquake, elphias doge, emmeline vance, gabriel corner, glenda prewett, greta catchlove, group, javier spinnet, jonas ackerly, kobe ackerly, lyssandra vance, miranda frobisher, nicholas hooke, noah boot, patrick vance, ralph frobisher, sebastian goldstein, severus snape

DIAGON ALLEY, EARTHQUAKE
"And you know what? There is not a sale worth going out in this heat, I'm serious!"

Javier grinned, putting up his hands in a defensive manner, "I'm sorry, but I don't need a pair of robes that badly, have you seen those temperatures? I'm surprised Fortescue's is still standing, would've thought they'd have melted awaaaaaay----whoa, what is---"

He gripped onto the desk, eyes widening as he rumbled and rolled away because the fucking building was shaking! Javier let out numerous words that were not politically correct to say on the wireless, and toppled out of his chair, busting his head on the floor. Strings of angry Spanish soared out of his mouth as he crawled up to his knees, and Javier grabbed the microphone.

Through the glass he saw that the other members of his staff were looking like they'd just been shot, and it took Javier a few good seconds to realize what the fuck happened, as another rumbling, rolling coursed through the studio. Javier dropped to the ground, covering his head with his hand as he shouted angrily into the microphone:

"ARE WE EXPERIENCING A FUCKING EARTHQUAKE IN DIAGON ALLEY?"

ooc: http://www.scribbld.net/users/valesco_mods/32947.html

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coverstory
2009-08-08 04:11 pm UTC (link)

Gabriel smiled easily and nodded, "You're very beautiful, Greta."

It wasn't a lie, he just would never have said it to her out loud. Greta was one of his friends (and apparently she thought very highly of him), an intern that he had grown rather attached to and didn't want to see fail or--well, get hurt. Gabriel wasn't sure how he was managing to keep himself so calm when Greta was clearly in a bad state. The idea that he'd been trying to protect her since she took on the internship (protect her from nasty old reporters and her lack of a desk) popped into his mind, and Gabriel settled with that. She was his intern, he couldn't leave her alone.

Gabriel pulled back from her head wound and looked over the rest of Greta's body and her injuries. No, she was in bad shape, but she should definitely be able to move her. He'd carry her out, because with the distance of their offices from St. Mungo's, it would be some time before anyone entered. Gabriel winced as he realized he was going to have to move Greta's obviously broken leg, but he kept his voice calm and soothing.

"I have to move you now," he said, continuing to brush her hair on the side of her face, "It's going to hurt, Greta, and I'm sorry for that, but we need to get you out of here, all right?"

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catchthislove
2009-08-09 03:29 am UTC (link)

Being told that someone who was thus far appearing to be a great friend and ally in one's time of need was about to do something heinous and pain-causing was not the most reassuring thing in the world. In fact, it was very much the opposite—one might even go so far as to call it a betrayal of trust of the most dastardly kind.

"That's not a very nice thing to say. Do we have to? I'm having a nice time just sitting here, actually."

But somehow, despite the fact that Gabriel was sitting there, telling her he was about to do something grotesquely painful to her, all Greta was really thinking about was if he was going to keep touching her hair, because that was surprisingly very soothing in her delirious state.

Until, of course, she realized in the vague alertness of her subconscious, Eurgh, what if I'm bloody?

Such was a testament to her knight in shining armor's stomach of steel, she supposed. Merlin only knew if their situations were reversed, she'd be running around like a chicken with its head cut off.

She thought she'd save Gabriel some of the trouble of moving her own awkwardly long limbs by doing it herself, which worked fine for the first three seconds, or so. Until Greta tried putting weight on her bad leg, which she had not yet figured was broken, despite the odd angle it had rested on.

Shrieking, and undoubtedly turning very white, she bit her tongue so hard it almost split. Greta's eyes squeezed, and in a rare moment of lucidity, her voice came out very small, "I don't think I can do this."

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