(1938-01-16) A Story Time Unfit for Children
Details for (1938-01-16) A Story Time Unfit for Children
Summary: Rhyeline comes to visit Mikhale in the CII ward of St. Mungos.
Date: January 16th, 1938
Location: Creature Induced Injures Ward, St Mungo's

Creature Induced Injuries London
Wed Jan 16, 1938 ((Mon Dec 17 06:55:29 2012)) (F,3 NE - CI)

It is a winter morning. The weather is cold and clear.

Three of the four walls in this large room are taken up by cabinets secured both by Muggle locks and heavy duty charms. Within the cabinets there are all sorts of medical supplies including things as simple as bandages and cotton swabs and things as magical as Skele-gro Potions and Blood Replenishing potions. Anything a Healer would need to help treat injuries and maladies caused by unfortunate encounters with creatures mundane or magical can be found in these cabinets. One of the more unique items in this wing of St. Mungo's are the ambulatory screens that follow Healers around on their little wheels and are capable of seeing into patient's bodies and displaying what they find as easily as they can create a magical image of any creature described by a patient to help identify what might have caused their injuries. Curtains hang from the ceiling and can be used to provide patients and their guests and doctors with complete privacy when necessary as they are ensorcelled to cut out all sound coming in rout when completely closed. During the day the rooms is illuminated by the sunlight coming in from the wards windows, supplemented by shiny light globes floating around the ceiling.

Mikhale is in his hospital gown, pacing around the little space they've given him. For a man that is used to being in a different country half the time forced confinement to St. Mungo's is driving him crazy. He is listening for anyone coming by, so he can jump into the bed and pretend like he isn't awake. The healers don't seem to like his agitated pacing, the stack of books near his bed has grown having read through and discarded over a dozen now.

Rhyeline is light on her feet as she makes her way carefully through the Creature Induced Injuries ward, not wanting to attract their attention. Silent, she approaches Mikhale's door, hands clasped anxiously in front of herself. At last she appears in the doorway and peeks inside. "Mikhale?" Her voice, soft as ever, has filled with a subtle anxiety.

There is a quick sound just as Rhyeline reaches the door and the flash of pink flesh as Mikhale's hospital gown swings open revealing his rear end for a moment. But by the time the door is open enough for Rhyeline to see through it, he is on his bed laying back and snoring quietly. At her voice a sigh of relief escapes his mouth and he closes his eyes for a moment trying to control the pain the sudden movement caused. His left arm is heavily bandaged, and the low hanging nature of his hospital gown reveals a several old scars along his chest. "Rhye?" He says after getting the pain under control.

Rhyeline closes the door with care behind her. Tonight, the young one wears a delicate little dress of pure, pale green with the most subtle silver embroidery pouring from the neck over the subtle swell of her breasts and down nearly to her ankles. Her dark gaze lingers upon him with quiet, sympathetic pain. "What happened to you?"

Mikhale opens his eyes again and smiles at the little mouse, "It's a long story." He says gesturing toward the stool at his bedside, "Come in, how are you? How is work? How is Annie? She sort out the Tim thing yet?" He rapid fires questions at Rhyeline, plainly starved for company.

Rhyeline makes her way over and seats herself beside him. "It is not my place to share with you what she has decided. If she trusts you, she will tell you, perhaps. Though you shouldn't ask her."

Mikhale frowns and then nods his head, "A shame." He says looking Rhyeline over, "Glad you came, you alone?" He glances towards the door, unsure if he should be mentally preparing for a battle with an angry redhead.

Rhyeline looks to the door and nods. "Yes. I was going to come with Annie, but- she needed to work tonight. And I wasn't sure when I'd get another chance to come."

Mikhale quirks an eyebrow, not expecting Annie to be the company suggested, but he'll let the matter of Alis out of hand. "I was out doing some scouting, and I came across a Manticore den, I had an antidote on hand but someone had spliced the dumb thing. Put some bug in it I think, I killed it… but the thing twitched when I went up to inspect it and the stinger got me in the arm. Luckily it's poison wasn't that different, took me a few hours to realize my antidote hadn't worked and came here."

"I see. And- and how long are you here for?" Rhyeline's dark gaze is full of a perhaps surprisingly deep amount of sympathetic pain for the man, as if she knows exactly how much he must suffer being locked in here.

"Hopefully they'll let me go home tomorrow." Mikhale grimmaces, "Four or five days total." He shakes his head, "How have you been?" Since Rhyeline hasn't answered any of his questions about herself.

"I've been alright. Adjusting still to working for Mr. Malfoy. But- I hope very much that they let you go home tomorrow. You should be alright, yes? You are only recovering from poison. Should be alright?" Rhyeline gives him a soft, hopeful little smile.

"Yeah… poison and the blood loss." Mikhale shrugs, slightly, so as not to move his injured arm too much, "Stupid thing had a thinner in it that prevented it from scabbing over."

"I see. Well, I- I'm sorry you've been stuck here. I'm sure that- that it must be terrible to be trapped here," she murmurs, lowering her gaze.

Mik frowns at Rhyeline, reaching out his good hand to rest it on her knee, "I'll be fine." The absolute certainty in his voice at odds with the dark curiosity in his eyes, "Thanks for coming. I know you're busy and it means a good deal that you would be willing to visit."

Rhyeline gives a light, involuntary flinch at the hand upon her knee. Her dark gaze flickers towards him before it darts back to her knees, which have moved out of his reach. However her cheeks have grown warm as well. "You're welcome. I know that- that if I were here, I wouldn't want to be forgotten. So- so I came to visit."

The knee moves just a split second before Mikhale moves to take it off, his original intent or not, the actions are near simultaneous. "How could anyone forget you?" He murmurs softly before changing the subject, "So, unity. We got interrupted last time."

A faint smile finds its way back to her lips. "Ah. Is that what you wish to speak of?"

"No, but it's a safe topic." Mikhale says with a roguish grin. "Whatever helps me understand the inner workings of your head."

Rhyeline turns her face a few degrees to the side, watching him with subtle uncertainty. "To me, unity is the answer. It is the only path I foresee with a chance of bringing about peace. Left to themselves without honorable wizards to intervene, I am certain that the wolves of war will tear Europe and possibly even farther regions to shreds."

"This will sound callous so forgive me, what about… pruning the muggle world?" Mikhale points to the books at his bedside, most of them are political manifestos from dictators and rulers, and rebuttals to them. "Some of these men… are too dangerous to be in control. A limited breech perhaps… wizard's leading the leaders."

Rhyeline looks to her hands which she folds in her lap. "It is my understanding that Cassius Malfoy's unity movement is focused on education and a peaceful, gradual transition where our two cultures are brought together and made able to benefit from eachother's wisdom. I do not see it as a wizarding takeover of muggle society. It will not be for us to simply decide which ones live and which ones go. Instead, it seems that we together, will decide what must be done and our magic will assist them in enforcing these choices.

Mikhale ponders those words for a moment his good hand reaching up to scratch his ear in thought. "Can I change the subject? I find that politics aren't what I want to talk about after all."

Rhyeline bites her lower lip, peeking up at him. "Have I said something you don't care for?"

Mikhale shakes his head, "No… just too much politics in my head already. I need time to sort it all out." He sighs loudly letting his arm drop to his side, and then turning to meet Rhye's eyes. "You told me once that I didn't know you. You're right… I don't. I would like to rectify that. I don't suppose it's as simple as asking you for your story?"

"What would you do with a story from me?" she asks, tilting her head to the side.

"Understand you better?" Mikhale shrugs, "I mean, short of invading the privacy of your mind with magic how else am I supposed to get to know you?"

Rhyeline gives a soft, faint smile. "Or veritaserum. Such is not your way. You are gentle to me. Sincere. I will tell you a story. What sort of story would you like?"

"I thought about it, but it takes so long to brew." Mikhale quips at the mouse, "Hmm… so many to choose from, and I'm not sure which would unfold the confusing knot that is your head… I don't know where to start." He confesses.

Rhyeline's cheeks warm at the quip. Smoothing out her dress, she murmurs, "Then tell me a story about yourself, the sort you would like to hear from me. And then when you are done, I will offer one of a similar nature."

"Fair enough." Mikhale closes his eyes for a moment, sorting out his thoughts, "The past year or so I was working on a job in Eastern Europe. It was a long job, and took me to many places since someone had actively erased the memory of what I was looking for." He takes a deep breath, "I was in a small town on the northwest side of Turkey, I'd been there for a few days before I realized they'd been obliviated."

Rhyeline's eyes widen. "Obliviated? What do you mean? Had you gotten too close and- and someone took your memory?"

"No, someone had taken an entire town's memory." Mikhale explains, "So I started digging… it wasn't, I wasn't gentle. I needed the information, so I took it." He frowns at the memory. "I was in an old man's head, he was a soldier in the Ottoman empire before the war. And the memory was one of him stealing the object I was looking for. There were dozens of similar memories, Armenian nationals crowded into a small paddock and then doused in gasoline and set on fire… the scent of the burning flesh…" He pauses, his eyes opening and staring off into space for a moment.

Rhyeline's dark gaze remains fixed unblinkingly upon his features, captivated by his story. "Are you a legilimens?"

"No, like I said… it wasn't gentle." His good hand reaching up to his eyes to rub them, preventing the moisture that was threatening to fall from happening. "Hundreds of men… the women and children they loaded into boats and then threw overboard into the black sea during the winter." He shakes his head, "All because they were different, they didn't belong among the pure-breed Turkish. Thousands killed because of hatred and fear."

Understanding dawns on the girl when he repeats that he was not gentle. However, her gaze remains steady as she watches him, unflinching. At last, she murmurs, "That's what you meant. When you mentioned that Ataturk was not involved in any of what the Ottomans did, you were referring to this?"

Mikhale nods his head, "Yes. Since then… I've been watching the muggle news a little more closely." Judging that his eyes are clear enough not to betray the weakness of the moment, the man will look at Rhyeline. "I guess it's why I came back to England."

Rhyeline nods, lost in thought as she processes what he has said. The silence grows for a time before she peeks back up at him. "You would like to know why I returned to England?"

"There is a certain symmetry to that being the story." Mikhale says forcing a grin, his eyes studying the girl.

"Yes. That's true." Rhyeline reaches up and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Keeping her gaze averted, she murmurs, "The situation in Berlin had been growing more and more dangerous. Negotiations were hanging only by a thread to perhaps guide Germany in a less dangerous, less extreme direction. But there were those who couldn't allow Ambassador Troy to be successful. It is not commonly known, but it is not a secret either. There were five attempts on Ambassador Troy's life. And the last- would have been successful had the assassin not caught me by mistake."

Mikhale frowns looking the girl over for signs of a curse.

Rhyeline has a perfect, snow-white complexion, but it does not seem ashen. Her lips are pink and as he has seen, she is prone to blush. Though she seems a little wisp of a thing, judging by her personality and how she is treated by those she is close to, that is probably how she has always been. No. The signs are more subtle than that. When she has to place her hands on the arms of a chair, steadying herself before rising, the subtle pause or sway before she moves away from a table. Her gaze flicker to meet his, allowing him to catch sight of the profound vulnerability in her dark gaze as she shares this with him. Fixing her gaze upon her hands once more, she murmurs, "It took ahold of me. It lingers still. I was in St. Mungo's for about four months before they figured out how to keep it at bay enough for me to be able to leave my bed."

Mikhale sits up as Rhyeline explains the curse, the hospital gown around him pulling slightly to reveal even more of the multitude of scars that mark his chest. His good hand extends toward Rhyeline, palm up, inviting her rather than demanding. "We all carry the scars of the battle we wage. My family… we are taught that we are purified by the fire of war. But it isn't just swords and wands, it is over coming the darkness. The strength to resist such a curse, it is a gift you have been given. Life is precious, meant to be treasured and experienced. You do yourself credit."

Rhyeline looks to his hand and after a moment of hesitation, she slowly places her hand in his as she continues to listen. The little one's cheeks glow with a subtle warmth. "I knew long ago that life was a gift I didn't wish to waste. Wanted to do something meaningful with my life. S'why I chose to join the Ministry, to work in the Department of International Magical Cooperation. And it's why- when the negotiations were broken, I found a new path to serve, to prevent the coming storm."

The tears Mik hid from Rhyeline are perhaps a obvious now in the slight moisture on his finger tips. His hand tightens around the brunette's squeezing in reassurance. "I hope it's as guilded a path as you think it is." He says softly, "For all of us."

Rhyeline is silent for a time, gazing up at Mikhale with a steady stare. At last, she murmurs, "I trust Cassius Malfoy."

"This is more than just a man… some of the people who back him…" Mikhale trails off, returning Rhyeline's gaze.

"Who?" she asks, unwavering as she meets his gaze.

Mikhale's head shakes almost imperceptibly, "It's not my place to shed light on skeletons people have hid in their closet. I just know too many of them from my time as an Auror."

"I see. I prefer to see the truth for myself. Have you read the Daily Prophet recently? There was an article about him. There are dark ones who have tried to attach themselves to his cause. And he has not allowed them to, regardless of how dangerous such a rebuff might be." Averting her gaze, Rhyeline carefully rises and murmurs, "I should go before the healers come to check on you. I don't like this place and- and I hope they let you leave soon. Good night, Mikhale."

Mikhale watches Rhyeline go, "Goodnight Rhyleine." In a voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you." His eyes lingering on the little brunette Witch until she leaves the room. His eyes thoughtful.

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