Order
James sat in the corner of the Order house's living room, bending his shoulders in to fit against the walls. With his knees up and head pushed as far back as he could, it seemed that he was literally trying to disappear between the cracks, to become one with the stagnant, unfeeling wall. He couldn't hear the soft murmuring that was going around the house, he'd tuned himself out of that what felt like ages ago. If he dared pay attention again, it would only force him to listen to the crying and horrible mutterings of the rest of the Order. The only reason he'd left the house was to await any sort of news from the Longbottoms, who had apparently come up with a valid way to capture Travers, the fucking bastard---

"James."

His eyes lifted to stare up at Emmeline Vance, who was far too dressed up to be here.

"Why are you wearing that?" he muttered. She looked down at the green dress and sighed, pulling at the ponytail that looked like it'd been done and undone a hundred times.

"I was at Jugson's wedding when--everything."

"Oh." James looked down and across the living room to try and garner the other members' faces. He didn't want to deal with them, but felt this unnerving need to. "What?" he asked when Emmeline didn't move.

"I took a calming serum from the basement," she said quietly, "for--Anneliese, my friend? She's--Jugson, and...pregnant, and--"

"Fine."

He watched her twitch and then she turned to cross the room again, and James' gaze dropped back down to the ground. What the hell did it matter, anyway? Not like they did any sort of good any more, the Order. They'd let one of their own get taken, right out from under their noses. What was the point?

OOC: This thread is intending for...anything the Order wants to do. Rant/vent/cry/plan/plot/mentally ramble. Tag others or do a stand-alone, your choice. Getting them all together is the important thing.