Post by xiulan zhou on Jan 7, 2021 22:50:41 GMT -7
August 4, 2025
If she could have managed to conduct whatever bureaucratic nightmare of paperwork the British Ministry of Magic needed from her from the comfort of her flat, Xiulan would have welcomed it. She was living her life more or less in exile in London, but there were some things that even she couldn't get around. As put-together as she might have looked on the outside, it had been a struggle for her to make it out the door, and every step she made—from her flat and then Apparating nearer to Whitehall—filled her with dread. It wasn't her first time to the Ministry, and a part of her hated the visitors' entrance. Every passerby must have been staring at her and wondering why a woman dressed as she was was standing inside of a grimy old phone box.
Her manicured fingers trembled as she lifted the receiver and dialed the number, but she managed to do so without incident. Affixing her silver name badge to the front of her dress, Xiulan looked down, trying to avoid the sensation of being sent downwards into the Ministry. It might as well have been her stomach dropping, she thought, though she soon reached the Atrium.
Xiulan hated that the security desk was on the far end of the room, as it meant bypassing countless others to reach where she needed to go. The feeling that she might be sick didn't cease, however much she wanted it to, as she put one foot in front of the other and stepped out into the crowd. Her legs shook unnaturally, though she wasn't at all unused to the stilettos she was wearing. She knew what the feeling was, but she didn't have enough time to do anything about it.
She collapsed to the floor, no color in her face aside from that provided by her makeup. From around her came the sounds of gasps, though she was entirely unaware of them, her body rigid against the polished wood floor. To anyone in the vicinity, it must have been absolutely frightening to see the woman with her eyes rolled back into her head. She might have seemed dead, even; her breathing was hardly perceptible as a voice that was far from her own inhabited her body instead.
All that Xiulan could see, meanwhile, was fog, with barely anything able to be made out in it. In that fog, however, was a huge stone statue. It was alone somewhere, towering. Ancient. She was watching as it broke apart, crumbling until it had collapsed.
The words she spoke were clearly audible:
Her manicured fingers trembled as she lifted the receiver and dialed the number, but she managed to do so without incident. Affixing her silver name badge to the front of her dress, Xiulan looked down, trying to avoid the sensation of being sent downwards into the Ministry. It might as well have been her stomach dropping, she thought, though she soon reached the Atrium.
Xiulan hated that the security desk was on the far end of the room, as it meant bypassing countless others to reach where she needed to go. The feeling that she might be sick didn't cease, however much she wanted it to, as she put one foot in front of the other and stepped out into the crowd. Her legs shook unnaturally, though she wasn't at all unused to the stilettos she was wearing. She knew what the feeling was, but she didn't have enough time to do anything about it.
She collapsed to the floor, no color in her face aside from that provided by her makeup. From around her came the sounds of gasps, though she was entirely unaware of them, her body rigid against the polished wood floor. To anyone in the vicinity, it must have been absolutely frightening to see the woman with her eyes rolled back into her head. She might have seemed dead, even; her breathing was hardly perceptible as a voice that was far from her own inhabited her body instead.
All that Xiulan could see, meanwhile, was fog, with barely anything able to be made out in it. In that fog, however, was a huge stone statue. It was alone somewhere, towering. Ancient. She was watching as it broke apart, crumbling until it had collapsed.
The words she spoke were clearly audible:
"White, willow, will you see?
Touch, turn, south you be.
Different, same, children's play
Blow at death to make it home
Giggle, groan, we stand alone
Hover, hey, please let us stay!
Stand, fall, feathers at the call
Breathe the stone, don't feel alone…"
