April 24th, 2098

13:57:29 [Gloriana] The privacy curtain parted momentarily to reveal a familiar nurse. Gloriana was lying in fetal position. The nurse studied her for a minute and sighed. “That’s it, I can’t watch you spend the rest of your days in this bed. C’mon,“ she crossed the cubicle to pull the sheets off of Gloriana’s bed. Glori instinctively flinched, bringing her limbs closer to her body. The nurse fussed over her, struggling to sit her up and dress her in a soft robe. She fought with Gloriana, trying to place her in a conjured wheelchair that was now missing from a nearby station. “Let’s go. You need sunshine,“ she said, and plopped Glori in the chair, and wheeled her out of the little cubicle to a window. “There, maybe some sun will do you good, hm?“ The nurse kneeled next to Glori and placed a hand on her shoulder, “Would you like a book, dear? Or the prophet?“ Glori didn’t answer, she just stared glumly out the window. “Alright, well… I’ll come back to check on you in a bit, love,“ she dragged her hand away and left her there, hoping that the sun might cheer her up. It would be one hell of a miracle if it did.

14:25:19 [Shef] St. Mungo’s wasn’t exactly a place anyone ordinary went for a pleasurable stroll, what with the fact that anyone there for an extended stay in such a world as the wizarding world was in dire straits indeed. Well. Most of them. There were a few tucked here and there who were there for the free amenities, the attention, the potions. Apollo didn’t mind. If someone knew the strings to pull to set themselves up with a sweet deal at St. Mungo’s, then more power to them – how could we get by in life if not by looking out for ourselves? But Apollo was not here simply to marvel in horror at the patients, or silently applaud those who were there on their own accord. He was there on business – his own grim business. He’d stopped to talk quietly with the staff at the desk, smiling and nodding to their directions and accepting their cautioning. Then the blonde wizard turned down the hall, his coat folded over one arm and his aviators pushed up into golden waves. He chivalrously ignored the glances of more than a few staff members, cutting his path to the small garden to which he’d been directed. He stopped just inside the door to pull out a notebook and quill. The quill set to work immediately, following him and scribbling down a few words as he made to approach the witch in the wheelchair. His eyes lidded – a cloudy gold. He pursed his lips down on some expression that he saw fit to stifle for now. Approaching Gloriana, he crouched down to get a look at her face. “Miss Boulstridge? Can you hear me?” He eyed her hand and gave it a tentative pat.

14:35:25 [Gloriana] She hated the sunlight, it was all the warm and inviting and caring she didn’t think she deserved. There was a depressing cubicle not ten meters away that had suited her just fine. A bird flew passed the window and Glori closed her eyes. Maybe she could fall asleep there by the window and the nurse would simply wheel her back to her bed without another attempt in mind. Instead, she heard an unfamiliar voice pollute the air. Her eyebrows knit together, and she silently wished them away, whoever they were. The alien touch of his hand caused her to flinch and steal her hand away. Her eyes were narrow slits aimed at the floor, body still tense with apprehension. Go away, she begged wordlessly, Leave me be, damnit!

14:43:17 Shef draped his hands back between his knees as he crouched there, casting a glance over to the busy quill. It paused, scratched out a line, and wrote something back in. The notebook tilted towards Apollo, who leaned over to read the note and nodded. He turned back towards the barely responsive woman. Very well. “My name is Apollo Sheffield. I’m… with the Daily Prophet.” A smile found its way to his face, seeming right at home in the lovely sunlit morning. “I know you’re suffering, so I won’t bother you, but I’d very much like to tell your story, sweetheart. I hear, the Ministry is still pressing charges against you – a women who was tortured and carried off while one of their own Aurors stood by, ah – “ He checked his notes again, “Apparently protecting a werewolf and criminal instead. Splendid.” He dismissed the notebook and pressed his lips together. “I do wish you’d help me, Miss Boulstridge… but the last thing I want is to cause you more suffering.” He paused, sighing and looking skyward for a moment. “I’m so sorry…”

14:53:19 [Gloriana] The Daily Prophet. She resolved to shut down completely, to be entirely unresponsive to anything and everything he said. Glori couldn’t very well have her misery plastered across the front page for someone else’s profit (there’s a pun here somewhere…). Were her state something different, she’d have scoffed at him. Tell my story, she thought derisively, I’m sure. He went on to describe it, causing unwanted emotions to stir. ‘Apparently protecting a werewolf and criminal instead.’ It caused her heart to race. She knew she deserved her sentence, whatever it may be, from the Wizengamot, but there was still some residual anger at the fact that Kaust of all people needed protecting. The rise and all of her chest had noticeably changed along with the rhythm of her breathing. Stoppit, she cried internally, stoppit, now! Her hands balled into fists, but still she didn’t speak. No! He wasn’t going to get a reaction from her.

15:05:03 Shef lifted his brows as the woman started a strange kind of panic attack. “Hey now! Calm down! Shh, it’s alright! Nurse!” He got up from his crouch and looked towards the door where a nurse had come running. His brows remained furrowed. “I’m so sorry! I was talking to her about what I wanted to have written-“ Because he’d totally pawn the actual wordsmithing off on someone else. He was a hero, not a workhorse. “I didn’t think I’d said anything she didn’t know already…” He shook his head as he backed up and let the nurse tend to her patient. “Maybe I should go. I thought it would be safest if I came myself, instead of sending someone…”

15:20:13 [Gloriana] Panic attack, maybe, but Gloriana was ready to have herself a fit. She was prepared to rip into the reporter when he called for the nurse. He’d played so much into her emotionally crippled condition that he was stopping himself short of causing her to have an outburst. She silently thanked him as the nurse came to tend to her. It was the same nurse that had previously sat her in front of the window. She kneeled next to her, a hand on Glori’s knee while Sheffield prattled on worriedly about how he shouldn’t have come. “Yes, alright. Careful, or you’ll have your own fit,“ she said, looking him over once. Her attention returned to Gloriana, head canted up to the girl, “Miss Boulstridge… Gloriana, dear, are you alright? Would you like to go back to your bed?“ Glori’s head nodded almost unnoticeably, but apparently just enough for the nurse to understand her. “I’m sorry, Mr. Sheffield. I think… visitors tend to upset her,“ she apologized, lifting the breaks on the wheelchair. She began wheeling her back to her cubicle, and Glori was suddenly looking up at the reporter, silently thanking him for not prying any further. It was all she could seem to muster, since she didn’t think she was worthy of anything more than her exile at St. Mungo’s.

15:36:41 Shef smiled divinely at the nurse, brows pushing together a little. “I completely understand,” he said softly. “I was hoping to get a firsthand account of the incident, but I would in no way want to trouble her into further madness. I know other accounts can be recorded, I was simply looking to start with the most likely.. honest one.” He laughed a little. The Ministry, right? Always covering their tracks over one thing or another. He gave a last glance to the woman in the chair, but she did indeed seem to be a bit of a lost cause. He would need to poke around the Ministry a little, perhaps since Hayden Kaust seemed to have gone into hiding. Very well. He turned and slipped from the sunlight back into the hallway where he made his way to the exit.

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