1994-09-05: Whispers In The Fog

Participants:

Sechnall_icon.gif Septima_icon.gif

Scene Title Whispers In the Fog
Synopsis Sechnall and Septima have a late-night meeting in The Chaser.
Date September 5, 1994
Watch For Floating teapots
Logger Sechnall

The Chaser

Outside, the weather is chill and grey, and sheets of rain are drizzling down sporadically every now and then. Because of this it's gotten quite foggy, and the humidity is enough to make it seem far colder than it actually is. Luckily, the inside of this shop - The Chaser, as the large wooden sign outside declares it - is kept quite snug and warm by the huge fireplace at the back end of the display room. The interior is quite neat and clean, with shelves full of ingredients from ceiling to floor covering most of the walls. Large racks of vials containing all manner of liquids, solids, powders and other oddities take up most of the center of the room, but there's enough space between them to navigate easily. All in all the decor is pleasant but unexciting.


A young-looking man dressed in a brown overcoat is standing near the register, leaning up against the counter. He's the only one in the shop, presently, and the lights have all been put out or dimmed, throwing long shadows throughout the small enclosure. Sechnall has a wooden pipe, not unlike the one Sherlock Holmes is so typically imagined smoking, hanging from betwixt his lips. He draws a long breath through it and then exhales a plume of thick smoke, his gaze settled on the door as if in expectation.

And it seems as if his expectations were not for naught. The door opens slowly, and enter in a woman who appears to be only a few years older then the man in the shop. Wavy golden hair falls over her face and behind her, she wears a black dress with glittery floral designs sown in. She wears a matching jacket to keep her warm during these chilly days. As the woman walks, the clickity-clack of her high-heel shoes can be heard. The woman is Septima Falton.

When the door swings open Sechnall's hand slides inconspicuously inside the sleeve of his coat, and he slowly draws out his wand. When it becomes evident that nothing is awry, however, he merely taps the tip of the wand on his pipe, instantly putting it out. Extinguished, it is set on the counter next to him. "Hello, Miss Falton," He says pleasantly, pointing the wand at the door. There's a soft click as the lock slides into place, and then another as the deadbolt does the same. The wand is then re-tucked into its original location up his sleeve. "I trust you made it here undisturbed?"

Septima doesn't make a move for her wand, which is in a handbag slung over her shoulder. "Ah, Mister Swancoate. How pleasant it is to see you." She says, making the pleasantries first. Offering a nod, she says, "Yes, I did not appear to have any…problems along the way." By the way she says 'problems', it is most likely they are on the same track of thought. She takes a few more steps in, looking around. "Quite the shop you have here. I am surprised I've not come here before for supplies."

"Good, good. I didn't think you would, but it's always better to be certain," Sechnall says amicably, folding his hands in front of him. He smiles, obviously pleased, at her remark about the shop. "Ah, well thank you. I've been working on it for a number of years; it was quite a shabby little place when I purchased it. It's taken quite a bit of effort to bring it to the condition you see now." He idly runs a set of fingers along the polished counter-top. "At any rate, I hope I haven't intruded upon your valuable time by asking you to come here.. but I was hoping perhaps you could clarify a few, mm, tidbits of news I've heard floating around lately." He examines her carefully from his position near the counter, his hazel eyes finding hers and locking on them unwaveringly. "Do you know the rumors that I'm speaking about?"

"But of course, good sir. I understand quite well. I've been suspicious since the first attacks happened here in Diagon Alley." Comes the response from Septima. "You have certainly made it into quite the little shop. It appears that you are doing very well." She says, clearly impressed. She turns back to face Sechnall, her pale blue eyes looking directly at him. "I know the rumour you speak of, but I'm afraid that I'm no less in the dark than you are. I've spoken to one or two others, none of whom know what is happening either. But…with the slow and gradual appearance of the mark, there have been inklings of what may come."

"Ah, I see.." Sechnall looks quite disappointed at the revelation that Septima knows no more than he, and a look of pain momentarily flashes across his features, but it's quickly replaced by a smile. "Well, I expected as much. If the Master /had/ risen, I would expect to be among the first notified.. I do not think that events have been made entirely clear to any of us yet." He shakes his head and absently rubs his forearm at the mention of the mark. "Ah, but I'm being very rude, where are my manners - may I offer you something to drink, Miss Falton? I have a kettle of tea still boiling - or a glass of brandy, if you prefer that."

Septima bows her head slightly. "I know that you do not wish to be left in the dark. I don't either. But surely we shall know soon enough what is going on. I've got a feeling. When the time is right…He'll call us to him." She says quietly. "But I know that it shall be worthwhile the wait, do you not agree?" She asks in her regular tone. She smiles then. "Ah, yes, tea would be lovely, thank you." She says, stepping forward slightly. "It has been quite the day."

Nodding in agreement with Septima's words, Sechnall walks calmly behind the counter. A large pot has been left to boil on a small metal plate to keep it from burning anything, and he picks it up, wordlessly summons a pair of cups, and pours some of the steaming liquid into each. "Oh, more than worth the wait, Miss Falton. Or is it Misses Falton? I have a terrible memory.." The alchemist smiles wanly and walks back to the other side of the counter, moving slightly closer to the woman so that he can extend one of the teacups to her. "And yes, quite a day for myself, as well. Very busy."

Septima gingerly takes hold of the cup offered to her, taking a sip before responding. "Misses Falton. But I am sure I can forgive you this lapse in memory this time around." She says in a light tone. She takes another, long sip of the hot tea. "Thank you, Mister Swancoate. This is very kind of you." She adds, indicating the tea. "You shall have to forgive my memory as well…but are you married? Have children?"

"Ah, my apologies, then. But no, I never married.. came close to it, once, but it didn't quite happen," Sechnall responds with a shrug and then another genial smile. "It simply wasn't meant to be, I'm afraid." He sips gingerly on his tea, letting the hot cup warm his bare hands, since he's generally used to wearing gloves and isn't at the moment. "And what is it that you do these days, Misses Falton? You've seen the inside of my own humble little shop.." He motions around and chuckles. "But I'm curious as to how you keep yourself busy these days."

"Such a shame. A young man such as yourself…I'm surprised that it did not work out." Septima says, sipping the tea some more. "I keep my days full and busy with charity events and galas and balls and the like. And raising two children. That, in and of itself, is a full time job." She says with the smallest of smiles.

"That sounds like a very.. eventful life. Certainly far more so than mine," Sechnall muses, keeping his eyes trained on the slightly older woman. Actually she's not very much older at all, and despite being quite attractive, the Ravenclaw man still looks considerably younger. Unnaturally younger, really. So much so that her comment isn't surprising. "I always did want children, you know. But I suppose I was never really the father-figure type.." He smirks ever-so-slightly and takes another long drink of his tea. "How old are yours, then? Still in school?"

Septima sighs softly and nods. "It certainly fills up my time. Though I can always find time for…old acquaintances." She says softly. "Oh, my children are still young yet. My oldest has just entered into first year, actually. She was sorted into Slytherin. My youngest is a year younger…by a fair bit." She smiles softly. "So much so that he won't be going to Hogwarts next term, but the one after." Indicating he was born after September first."

Nodding, Sechnall finishes up his tea. He fetches his wand and gives it a hardly-noticeable flick, causing the teapot to hover over towards him. He pours himself another cup, and does the same for Septima, should she acquiesce. "Ah, very good. Slytherin's a fine House. My parents both wanted me to be in Slytherin - I'm a Ravenclaw, myself," He admits with a slight grin. "But I trust you won't hold that against me, Misses Falton."

Septima bows her head in response to more tea. "There is certainly nothing wrong with some who have been in Ravenclaw. It shan't be held against you, of course." She sips her tea and thinks. "Though I was always most partial to Slytherin myself." There's a hint of jesting in her voice.

"I'm certain. As are most of the Master's followers, admittedly.." Sechnall says quietly, his hazel eyes twinkling with - what, mischief? It almost looks like it, but not quite. "Well, some of us who are not so ambitious make up for it with.. other qualities." He chuckles softly, glances out of the shop's windows and into the foggy street beyond, and smiles. "It's odd, but I've always preferred rainy weather. And snow. I do love snow - can't wait for winter to be here."

Septima smiles softly and nods. Finishing off her tea, she moves to place her cup on the counter. "It has been most pleasant speaking with you today, Mister Swancoate. But I must be off. I've got an evening out that I've got to prepare for now. But I shall keep in touch." She says with a small bow of her head.


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