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hh_mirrorIn the summer of 1999, very little surprised Claire Tourneur. She simply wouldn't let shock take away valuable time that could be spent partying away the fact that her life was going to end. Everyone's lives, actually. The nuclear satellite hung precariously over the earth, losing a battle with gravity that would end life on the planet when it finally succumbed. That was the theory, at least. Nobody was quite sure what would happen, but there was no point in taking chances. Faced with her own mortality, Claire had decided that if she couldn't beat the satellite to the punch, she was going to live the rest of her life in an unending fog.
The party she had just left was a one in a long string of interchangeable gatherings. She had woken up on a couch she couldn't remember falling asleep on. She'd picked up a champagne flute that certainly wasn't hers, grabbed shoes that possibly could be hers, and had stepped outside to leave in her stolen car. That was when the world had ended.
How else could she be in a cold castle, and not out in the drive? She was frozen, shocked into feeling her first strong emotion in months: fear. The fear didn't last long, though. The pills she had consumed the night before formed a protective chemical barrier against those bothersome feelings, and her pharmaceutical defenders were quick to come to her aide. So that was the end, she thought. I suppose that a warning would have been too much to ask for. French was her native tongue, but she was fluent in English and German, if the situation called for it.
If this was the end of the world, though, she had expected a bit more fanfare in the next life, or at least a bit more crowding. As it was, she was the only person in the room. There was one other object of note: a small wooden table with a sheath of papers and a pen. Or not a pen, really. Claire appreciated that. She would not enjoyed the afterlife very much if the celestial powers did not have a sense of flair. The paper had writing in English, so she answered in turn.
1. What is your favorite cheese? Why is it your favorite?
Claire couldn't remember the last time she'd had cheese. With the world in a panic, making cheese had been abandoned for more important uses of the cheesemaker's time. But in their dying days, people wanted to eat their favorite foods. Gourmet treats were always available, for the right price. Claire had crashed all the best parties, and had kept herself in the diet of her choosing.
I have stuck to a strict diet of caviar and alcohol, and I see no reason to change that now that I am dead, she wrote with firm and decisive strokes.
2. Who would you kill first, Barney or Carrottop?
They're both dead now. No difference.
3. What time is it where you are?
She was amused by the concept of time in the afterlife. Wasn't heaven meant to be eternal? Or was this hell, where part of her torture would be to watch the seconds drag by forever? If she had been a religious person, Claire would have put more stock in the latter. Fortunately, she had tucked her faith into the bottom of a champagne bottle, where it couldn't bother her. Heaven and hell were for other people.
Two seconds past the end of the world, she wrote. Truth be told, she hadn't even known what time it was she she'd left the party, or even what day. The days had turned into weeks, the weeks into months, and with the end of time rushing so quickly to a close, there had been no point in keeping track anymore.
4. If you were Albus Dumbledore returned from the dead, which member of the Order of the Phoenix would you sexually harass? How would you harass them? If you are Albus Dumbledore, please answer as if you were Sirius Black.
She had not returned from the dead; she had joined their ranks. Claire thought this question was unnecessarily cruel. Congratulations for Albus Dumbledore. When he is done fucking, would he share the secrets of his resurrection with me?
5. If you are pushing to be in:
A. Slytherin - please state the clever, witty name of the bar in which you bartend, in the dark.
Satellite is too pathetic. Every new bar is named after the end of the world, in one way or another. So much scorn from a woman who had planned to spend her last days on Earth emptying every bottle she came across. I would name my bar Remember, where people can bitch about how terrible their last days were. Even in death we will want to complain.
B. Gryffindor – Debate whether Harry should ultimately end up married to Fred or George. Use examples from a variety of world mythologies to bolster your argument.
So simple-minded. Always thinking that it is one or the other.
C. Ravenclaw – You guys are supposed to be smart. Explain why my desk is inundated with paperwork at all times, even though I’m constantly disposing of it.
She didn't know whose desk it was, but did it matter? Because you did not want to die picking up papers! Did you have nothing better to do?
D. Hufflepuff – Prove you are not useless.
The piles of discarded lovers and artists would attest otherwise, but Claire knew the answer to this question. As a muse, she had always been self-depreciating. I am useless. Do not forget it.
6. Offer a bribe to the members of this community so that they will not squib you. Items used in bribery do not necessarily have to belong to the person offering the bribe. Do not threaten us rather than offering a bribe. A threat indicates you either don't really want to be here, or don't have enough sense to answer the question properly. The hat will automatically squib you, regardless of other votes, if you do.
Out of everything on her body, only her dress belonged to her. The jacket had been picked up at the last party, and the keys in her hand belonged to a car she had driven off with weeks ago. Without the car, the keys were useless. The jacket held more promise. A collection of pills were gathering lint in the pocket. There was an antidepressant, a sedative, and one of a more home-made variety. She set them on the paper and drew a circle around them, so that whoever read her sheet would notice them. It's all I've got, she wrote. In your stomach, the dirt doesn't matter.
"I have read the hogwarts_hocus faq, and understand it is a crazy, cracktastic sorting community and RPG. _Claire_______
I have read the hogwarts_hocus rules and agree to abide by each and every one of them. _Claire______.
I agree to be a good sport and not get my knickers in a bunch. _Claire_______.
One day, marmalade will rule the world too late. _Claire_________"
The party she had just left was a one in a long string of interchangeable gatherings. She had woken up on a couch she couldn't remember falling asleep on. She'd picked up a champagne flute that certainly wasn't hers, grabbed shoes that possibly could be hers, and had stepped outside to leave in her stolen car. That was when the world had ended.
How else could she be in a cold castle, and not out in the drive? She was frozen, shocked into feeling her first strong emotion in months: fear. The fear didn't last long, though. The pills she had consumed the night before formed a protective chemical barrier against those bothersome feelings, and her pharmaceutical defenders were quick to come to her aide. So that was the end, she thought. I suppose that a warning would have been too much to ask for. French was her native tongue, but she was fluent in English and German, if the situation called for it.
If this was the end of the world, though, she had expected a bit more fanfare in the next life, or at least a bit more crowding. As it was, she was the only person in the room. There was one other object of note: a small wooden table with a sheath of papers and a pen. Or not a pen, really. Claire appreciated that. She would not enjoyed the afterlife very much if the celestial powers did not have a sense of flair. The paper had writing in English, so she answered in turn.
1. What is your favorite cheese? Why is it your favorite?
Claire couldn't remember the last time she'd had cheese. With the world in a panic, making cheese had been abandoned for more important uses of the cheesemaker's time. But in their dying days, people wanted to eat their favorite foods. Gourmet treats were always available, for the right price. Claire had crashed all the best parties, and had kept herself in the diet of her choosing.
I have stuck to a strict diet of caviar and alcohol, and I see no reason to change that now that I am dead, she wrote with firm and decisive strokes.
2. Who would you kill first, Barney or Carrottop?
They're both dead now. No difference.
3. What time is it where you are?
She was amused by the concept of time in the afterlife. Wasn't heaven meant to be eternal? Or was this hell, where part of her torture would be to watch the seconds drag by forever? If she had been a religious person, Claire would have put more stock in the latter. Fortunately, she had tucked her faith into the bottom of a champagne bottle, where it couldn't bother her. Heaven and hell were for other people.
Two seconds past the end of the world, she wrote. Truth be told, she hadn't even known what time it was she she'd left the party, or even what day. The days had turned into weeks, the weeks into months, and with the end of time rushing so quickly to a close, there had been no point in keeping track anymore.
4. If you were Albus Dumbledore returned from the dead, which member of the Order of the Phoenix would you sexually harass? How would you harass them? If you are Albus Dumbledore, please answer as if you were Sirius Black.
She had not returned from the dead; she had joined their ranks. Claire thought this question was unnecessarily cruel. Congratulations for Albus Dumbledore. When he is done fucking, would he share the secrets of his resurrection with me?
5. If you are pushing to be in:
A. Slytherin - please state the clever, witty name of the bar in which you bartend, in the dark.
Satellite is too pathetic. Every new bar is named after the end of the world, in one way or another. So much scorn from a woman who had planned to spend her last days on Earth emptying every bottle she came across. I would name my bar Remember, where people can bitch about how terrible their last days were. Even in death we will want to complain.
B. Gryffindor – Debate whether Harry should ultimately end up married to Fred or George. Use examples from a variety of world mythologies to bolster your argument.
So simple-minded. Always thinking that it is one or the other.
C. Ravenclaw – You guys are supposed to be smart. Explain why my desk is inundated with paperwork at all times, even though I’m constantly disposing of it.
She didn't know whose desk it was, but did it matter? Because you did not want to die picking up papers! Did you have nothing better to do?
D. Hufflepuff – Prove you are not useless.
The piles of discarded lovers and artists would attest otherwise, but Claire knew the answer to this question. As a muse, she had always been self-depreciating. I am useless. Do not forget it.
6. Offer a bribe to the members of this community so that they will not squib you. Items used in bribery do not necessarily have to belong to the person offering the bribe. Do not threaten us rather than offering a bribe. A threat indicates you either don't really want to be here, or don't have enough sense to answer the question properly. The hat will automatically squib you, regardless of other votes, if you do.
Out of everything on her body, only her dress belonged to her. The jacket had been picked up at the last party, and the keys in her hand belonged to a car she had driven off with weeks ago. Without the car, the keys were useless. The jacket held more promise. A collection of pills were gathering lint in the pocket. There was an antidepressant, a sedative, and one of a more home-made variety. She set them on the paper and drew a circle around them, so that whoever read her sheet would notice them. It's all I've got, she wrote. In your stomach, the dirt doesn't matter.
"I have read the hogwarts_hocus faq, and understand it is a crazy, cracktastic sorting community and RPG. _Claire_______
I have read the hogwarts_hocus rules and agree to abide by each and every one of them. _Claire______.
I agree to be a good sport and not get my knickers in a bunch. _Claire_______.
One day, marmalade will rule the world too late. _Claire_________"
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