(1941-08-11) Premature Landing
Details for Premature Landing
Summary: Thyri reaches London at last after an arduous flight. She touches down a few miles short of her goal, just down the street from Daniel's flat.
Date: Thursday, August 11, 1941
Location: Chelsea, London
Related: A Mudblood's Oath

It's late and the blackout in effect leaves London looking all together deserted. The oncoming fall brings a chill with it and laces its way into the evening air in such a way as to dig the damp, English air deep into anyone's bones. The shadows do not war in the streets in current times but that means anyone benefiting from it is doing so many times over.

The speedy decent of a broomflying figure is likely not meant for the muggle street but there seems little choice by the way the flyer hastily dismounts at the corner and uses one of the stoops to collect themselves, the sound of heavy breathing loud as the hiss of a nearby tom greets the newest arrival. Cursing at the feline below her breath in heavily accented Swedish, the tone is distinctly feminine. Righting herself, the cloaked figure takes a step and then another, grimacing before a sharp gasp of pain sounds, a hand going for the next railing of the stoop as she passes it by.

The broom is let go, fumbled as both hands take hold of the solid anchor she uses to stay upright. The clatter of the handle fills the empty void of the night rather loudly.

In the shadow of the alley across the street, the tip of a cigarette glows red. A muggle emerges, the sound of his footsteps echoing down the silent street. Releasing a serpentine cloud of smoke, he tilts his head. He watches the witch without surprise. A wicked smile grows upon his lips, bringing out a hint of dimples in the creases of her cheeks. "Good evening," he says with a nod. Stepping out into the street, he meanders towards her.

The woman's head comes up quickly after being address, dark hair escaping the hood in wisps as she spots the approaching male. The woman hesitates a moment but the thickly accented English is nearly flawless in execution. "I did not expect to find anyone out, if you will excuse me," she says and carefully reaches down, feeling for the broom so that she does not have to take her eyes off the man - though it appears she does not succeeed for that very reason.

Her head dips down for a split second so her hand can close around the handle.

Daniel slows and pauses in the middle of the road. "It's alright. I don't think anyone else saw you. And I doubt you'd have landed if it weren't urgent. So rest a moment. I'll be off, if you like. But I can also stick around if you'd like someone to fend off any passing muggles." Taking a slow drag on his cigarette, his eyes gleam with relaxed mirth.

Shoulders lower from the defensive rise they had risen to when he speaks. She pushes herself up and stares at him, gauging him in her silence. "It has been some years, since last I visited.." the thick northern accent remains. "With the city dark I could not find the alley…I need to reach the ministry as soon as possible," she says, the rush of her words quickening near the end as her hand remains, tightening upon the stoop. "Tell me I am not too far?" Dark eyes are hard to make out within the hood but the pale flesh reflects even what little light there is from above.

Daniel arches a brow. "The Ministry?" He glances off down the street. "Actually, you're not too far off if you don't mind a walk." With a wry smirk, he adds, "There's a quicker way, but it's not particularly pleasant."

"The hour, it is too late, I realize this," she begins, her lips curling up in a wince before she nods, drawing a breath as her nostrils flare. "Quickly, yes, quicker is by far better," she prompts and letting go of the stoop seems to take a great deal of fortitude on the woman's part. "Take me, please, I will pay you in whatever sum you need," she presses, looking all together ready to press on though her first step seems to be one of experimentation and near failure before she gets herself straightened out.

Daniel studies the witch with a slight frown. With a shake of his head, he says, "No need for payment. It's no trouble." Flicking away his cigarette, he approaches and offers his arm. In a quiet tone, he adds, "I can carry your broom if you like."

Reluctance to touch him follows the offer of his arm. "No, no I have the broom and …I can walk, just show me the way," her voice is somewhat biting, dark eyes flitting across his features and the offer well meant or not. She turns the broom upside down, haft to the walk as she uses it as a sort of aid. "Not far you said…" she nods at him to begin, placing her other hand over her stomach, wincing a little, her teeth gritting. "Fine.." she growls slightly, her acceptance delayed as her hand reaches out to take his arm whether he is ready or not.

Daniel lifts his hand in a gesture of acceptance. Taking a half-step back, tThe muggle-dressed man glances off down the street. Her change of heart catches him off guard, but he recovers quick with a bit of a grin. "Alright. Then we're off. And let me know if you need to pause." At a slow, considerate pace, he begins leading her off down the street.

Slow is the exact opposite of quick and even though the pace is definitely needed, she seems agitated at their pace, the soft pants sounding as she grips his arm. She is quiet, not truly offering anything until she asks, "How much further do you think?" the pale color of her flesh is hard to make out but her expression is one of constraint touched with pain.

"The underground is just around the corner." Out of the corner of his eye, Daniel studies her. Noting the pain tightening her features and the palor of her cheeks he sighs and pauses. Against his better judgement, he says, "Listen. There's an even quicker way. My flat is just around the corner. Its fireplace is connected to the floo network. That'll take you there."

"Floo?" Thyri's voice goes a little shrill at the idea of it and seems to consider the option. "If it is faster, it may be wise…" she grips him a bit more tightly. "Your name, give me your name and I will decide," nails dig into him, burying past his shirtsleeve, carrying the cloth with the bite of her fingers.

Daniel winces as her nails dig in, but watches her with a relaxed smile. "I've got a lot of names. But most call me Danny. Full name that you can give at the Ministry is Daniel Smith." He tilts his head. "And you?"

His name is filtered as her eyes go distant, thinking over the information he has given her. Thyri shakes her head, "Rather not say, to the floo. I do not know your name and you likely do not know me," she says, "All the better," she says quickly, her nails relaxing from their urgent hold, "We must be swift, Daniel Smith," she persists, giving a tug to his arm. The hood offers her some respite from his gaze and as she turns her head he will not make out her expression at all.

Daniel follows along at the tug of his arm, letting the mysterious woman set their pace. As promised, it isn't far. Rounding the corner, they come upon a road that splits in two, divided by a wide open green, lined with trees. The two rows of homes facing each other appear constructed of smooth, white stones. The muggles living here must be quite wealthy. "It's just over here, number 25." Passing 21, 23, the pair comes at last to 25.

Each step makes her breathing worse until they reach the number twenty five. Perhaps it is the idea of finally reaching some sanctioned location that causes her to give a little. Thyri lets out a groan and she clutches her stomach, legs shaking. "Ministry," she pants and the beads of sweat on her forehead begin to blossom, falling down her forehead. The pale hue of her skin begins to turn somewhat grey as she fights with the ability to keep her feet. "Open the door," she nearly spits out.

Daniel produces an iron key to unlock his front door. Though no windows are lit along this street, it still wouldn't do to brandish a wand. But once the door shuts behind them, he draws his wand and encants, "Lumos." Floating lanters illuminate at once, casting a warm glow across the well-furnished home. At once, Daniel leads the woman to the grand fireplace in the sitting room just off of the mudroom and entryway. He pauses, gazing at her with a deepening frown. "Will you make it through the floo? I can fetch a medi-wizard… and bring a Ministry official here, if you need."

Eyes lift quickly as he offers to fetch help. "Something is wrong," she says faintly, worry catching her brow. She's in his home now and there is a sudden look of uncertainty. "Please…he must not know where I am and I must do this quickly…" her hands shake some as she stares at the fireplace, drawing a breath as now in the light the white slickness of her skin can be seen, dark hair caught by her sweat despite the chill in the evening air. And there, despite the wealth of her cloak is the faint curve of her stomach that pushes outwards.

With a frown of concern, Daniel tries to take her hands in his. "You're safe here. But the floo can be a rough ride. Let me fetch a medi-wizard. If you make it to the Ministry, that's the first thing they'll likely do. St. Mungo's is even safer than the Ministry. And I can bring a Ministry Official to you."

Thryi grips his hands when he takes her own, if nothing else than to focus her concerns. She looks at what she grips and then up at him. "Swear to me, swear to me you do not know my husband, that you will aid me..swear to me by everything you hold dear you will protect me!" She exclaims in a whispering gasp. Her hands are strong, gripping to his as her body shakes from the pain. "I am going to lose the child…" she says and if he swears, she will release him.

Daniel studies her with a rare, serious edge. "I swear. By the few things I hold precious." And then, in a foreign tongue, he adds a quiet oath. As the woman releases him, he takes her by the arms and eases her down onto a sofa. Then, without a word, he apparates away. The grandfather clock against the wall doesn't have a chance to count a full minute before Daniel returns through the fireplace with a witch in lime-green robes. The 'adept healer' bears two patches: a black wand and bone crossed on a white background and a white stork on an orange background.

Left even in that small amount of time, Thyri's mind plagues her. When they return, she's nearly to her feet, struggling to do so but stopped nonetheless. The dark hood has been thrown back to reveal the thick main of hair fraying free of its braid and the length of her slender neck. Sharp feverish eyes watch them both and the healer tuts forward quickly, setting her things aside. "Help me get the cloak off of her, I need to see what is going on," she says quickly, with a voice that sure enough in its position of instruction.

Thryi will allow them to peel off the cloak, the blouse is wet and stuck to her neck and its now easier to see the way her stomach pushes at the bottom part of it tucked into her trousers. The healer places her hands on the witche's belly and begins to push and move the mound lightly. "How long have you been bleeding?" she questions the witch who answers her, "I do not know…maybe several hours," she replies.

The healer shakes her head. "We need to get you back, I am going to give you something to ease the stress so you do not prompt early labor.." the healer is about her mixtures then in the bag she brought and Thyri looks to Daniel, "YOu," she says and swallows, "You are coming with me..you swore.." she says, blinking rapidly before the draught is pressed to her lips and she is forced to down the concoction.

Daniel acts as he is bidden, easing the cloak from Thyri's shoulders before stepping aside. He settles, resting an elbow on the mantelpiece. He blinks as the mysterious witch tells him he's coming with. It wasn't quite what he'd promised, but with a sober frown, he nods. "I'll come with you."

"Good," she says in reply after swallowing down the liquid. Thyri blinks a few more times but slower, as if whatever she drank is easing her out of consciousness. "I must stay here," her thick accent echoes. "I must not leave London," she tells them both, her speech slurring again. And instead of pain or stubbornness, there is fear in her gaze before she looks at Daniel. There is a desperation in the motion made, her hand extending in his direction still resting on the sofa as if to bid him closer. That fearful gaze hazes and then her eyes close so that the healer can do what she will. "We can get her to the hospital now, she is in safe hands. I will need you to report what you know but other than that you are free to go after." Thryi is carefully secured for transport through magical means.

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