- Messages
- 183
- OOC First Name
- Beth
- Wand
- Yew Wand, Essence of Crystallized Dragon Fire, 12 ½"
Ruth had just got the children to sleep and was in the library, a book on wild fungi open across her knees, when the news arrived in the form of a house elf. It was to be truly life-changing. She would look back on that day with great curiosity as to the way things would be if the events had not gone as such. That next week would be the most crucial. And Ruth knew it.
Ruth had spent the day at the nearest muggle village, her children in an enchanted, old-fashioned, black pram. It was the same pram, with its silver innings and white velvet lining, which had encased Ruth for her youngest years. The pram was enchanted to hold more than it seemed to and it would set off an alarm should the child or children present, be removed without the charm being deactivated. Ruth felt safe with this pram and she pushed it, happily, past many staring muggles. She was wearing a large knitted fleece which draped down to the ground. She looked like she had walked straight out of the nineteen-fifties. She had considered killing a few muggles for the fun of it.. But why? Ruth needed to start thinking fast about her life and the way in which she responded to decisions. The murder of muggles, for instance; if she was for such a thing, she would be entitled to the Adler estate. All of it. But if she chose to fight against, to save muggles or to just ignore them in general, she would be cut from the Adler inheritance and all would go to her brother.
These thoughts had accompanied her back home and upstairs. But now, she sat in the library, an eyebrow raised, silently questioning the house elf's presence. It was the pained expression which gave it away. Ruth leapt from her chair, her hand on the elf's throat, forcing it up to head height. "Darusm," she began venomously, "What has happened?"
Ruth had spent the day at the nearest muggle village, her children in an enchanted, old-fashioned, black pram. It was the same pram, with its silver innings and white velvet lining, which had encased Ruth for her youngest years. The pram was enchanted to hold more than it seemed to and it would set off an alarm should the child or children present, be removed without the charm being deactivated. Ruth felt safe with this pram and she pushed it, happily, past many staring muggles. She was wearing a large knitted fleece which draped down to the ground. She looked like she had walked straight out of the nineteen-fifties. She had considered killing a few muggles for the fun of it.. But why? Ruth needed to start thinking fast about her life and the way in which she responded to decisions. The murder of muggles, for instance; if she was for such a thing, she would be entitled to the Adler estate. All of it. But if she chose to fight against, to save muggles or to just ignore them in general, she would be cut from the Adler inheritance and all would go to her brother.
These thoughts had accompanied her back home and upstairs. But now, she sat in the library, an eyebrow raised, silently questioning the house elf's presence. It was the pained expression which gave it away. Ruth leapt from her chair, her hand on the elf's throat, forcing it up to head height. "Darusm," she began venomously, "What has happened?"