the pit | jimmie

[oberon anteros blishwick]

when your eyes adjust

and you see what's in view

January 2029
Jameson Hera Blishwick

”Jim Bean!” Obie exclaimed happily as he pulled his younger cousin into a quick hug. ”How are you prima?” Obie wasn’t terribly busy that day, not that it was difficult for him to find time to escape the secretive dungeons of his department. And Felix didn’t mind, not that his previous Department Head had minded either. A grin plastered itself on his face. Despite his head constantly in the clouds and many hours in the Space and Time Chamber, Oberon knew very well his cousin Jimmie was well on her way to journalistic stardom after over two years of training. She was bright and focused, though perhaps a bit too serious.

Not that it discouraged Obie from attempting to spread his cheery nature. One day it would catch on. ”What are you doing here?” As far as he knew, the Prophet didn’t visit the Ministry often. Then again, what did he know? He probably didn’t pay attention enough. Most of his meetings outside his department were with Department Heads or the Minister’s office as he carefully coordinated information from The Department of Mysteries. It was a challenging position, but Obie didn’t mind it. And aside from the usual grumbles of their secrecy, there weren’t many complaints.

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[Jameson Hera Blishwick]

no care in the world.

jan 2029

THE MINISTRY WAS RARELY EVER DESERTED, A constant flow of robed figures moving swiftly across the atrium floor like a sea of well made moving parts. Jimmie used to be fascinated by the draw of it, the prestige of the great building and the new stature erected in the middle. A limb spouting water out into the adjoining marble pool. A smattering of copper knuts and glinting sickles decorating the bottom filled with business-like wishes. As time had moved on, and Jimmie had found herself there more and more for meetings relating to the Prophet, the shine had worn thin. It was just an old building filled with red tape and buttoned mouths, quick to refuse to be named as a source as soon as they seen a journalist pin.

The sound of her wretched boozy nickname, however, was not something that had lost its immediate effect. Jimmie stopped dead in her tracks, a body knocking her shoulder with a shrill complaint as she turned sharply to find the culprit. A head of curly brown hair bounced in place from across the tiled floor. Jimmie made to turn back and storm away on principle, but stopped with a huff as she stalked toward him and smacked a hand against his shoulder in greeting reprimand. Obie certainly wasn't Jimmie's favourite cousin, but he had a way of refusing to be ignored that she couldn't deny.

"Are you high on department fumes, Obie?" She asked him almost pleasantly, her jaw clenched just a little too stiffly to be entirely friendly. "It's Jimmie." She reminded him sternly, in case he had forgotten. Jimmie didn't like to feel cornered, and Obie had terrible timing, as ever. Another Blishwick drunk on the 'power of love', they did not always see eye-to-eye, but he had an impeccable cheer that rivalled even her father in its intensity. "Had to chase down a quote," She shrugged loosely, grabbing Obie's sleeve to politely move them to a less congested part of the atrium. "Why are you out of your Amortentia tomb?" She asked him curiously, "I thought they kept you chained to cupid's ankle this close to Valentine's." 

oberon anteros blishwick

NEVERLAND at ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0!

[oberon anteros blishwick]

when your eyes adjust

and you see what's in view

January 2029
Jameson Hera Blishwick

As expected, Jimmie was not very receptive to Oberon’s warm welcome. Had she responded in any other way, Obie would have been tempted to bring his younger cousin down to the Department of Mysteries to see what had happened to that grumpy brain of hers. Or check for some curse—that was perhaps easier. ”That’s what I said.” Obie responded. Jim Bean, Jimmie, close enough. ”We can also go with Jack or Johnnie if you like. Although I can’t say, I’m really too fond of Jack Daniels. Chivas or Crown is a little more up my alley—anyways—“ Obie stopped before getting too carried away, knowing his cousin would have little patience for that.

Despite the dreamy look in his eyes and the leisurely way he often strolled from point A to B, Oberon was quite observant and knew his cousins well enough. Rambling conversations were best with Lulu rather than Jimmie. He let Jimmie lead him near the side of the atrium so they weren’t in anyone’s way or blocking any of the floo’s. ”Quote about what?” Obie’s curiosity got the better of him. Despite his privileged status within the Department of Mysteries, he didn’t know all that went out in other departments.

”That’s funny—but no, we have interns for that.” He smiled confidently, although with the air of mystery still about him. Never would Oberon actually share what occurred in his workplace—let alone to a budding journalist, even if she was family. ”I don’t recall. Did you brew Amortentia in school?” Not everyone attempted a NEWT level in Potions, so not everyone shared that experience. But Obie was always curious about what people smelled when they brewed the potion since it was an individual experience.

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[Jameson Hera Blishwick]

no care in the world.

jan 2029

EVER THE OPTIMISTIC FOOL, OBIE BOBBED IN place like a loose love-heart shaped balloon. Beaming at Jimmie stupidly as he brushed off her ire and ran with his own shite sense of humour, she thought bitterly. Shaking her head and glaring at him over a pouted mouth. There was little Jimmie hated more than her given name, except perhaps the ooey-gooey concept of modern romance, but that was a conversation for another day. Obie, unfortunately, had been bitten by the Blishwick Bug. It made him barely tolerable, sometimes.

"You know how it irks me, and yet you continue to give me every reason to wish you disinherited." Jimmie griped unhappily, kicking out the toe of her shiny designer wedge to knock against his shin petulantly. Leading them to a quieter corner, Jimmie crossed her arms and acted very professional once both of her feet were back on the ground and they were no longer at risk of being trampled. Obie looked unphased, like a dog on a leash with its tongue hanging out, she thought meanly.

"I can't tell you," Jimmie sniffed haughtily. Now that Jimmie had graduated up into her investigative journalism position, she took it very seriously. She didn't even use names when she gossiped anymore, afraid her boss would find out and her story would be discredited. The quote about a certain famous comic book artist's arrest was kept very close to Jimmie's chest. She practically vibrated with the excitement of its sheer potential. "It's very high profile." She flicked her hair and couldn't even stop the slight smirk that curled the corner of her mouth.

"Oh, you would delegate," Jimmie sneered tauntingly, too pleased with herself to be entirely bothered by her irksome cousin. Though her face crumpled in a mild confusion as Obie asked her about the love potion that love weavers tended to hate on principle alone. Jimmie just found the entire performance a farce, but that fact was well known among those who knew her. She made no great secret about her disbelief in the 'power of love'. "Yeah, I think so... why?" She asked, feeling as if Obie was about to whip out a questionnaire. 

oberon anteros blishwick

NEVERLAND at ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0!