Post by Max Kameren on May 29, 2019 23:09:52 GMT -5
“Thank you for this interview, Mr. Kameren.”
the reporter’s smile was a smear of scarlet that Max couldn’t interpret as friendly or menacing. He replied with a tense nod, fidgeting with the thin silver rings on his two right-hand fingers. The bands controlled his newly-administered prosthetics, each finger controlling another to give the illusion of a five-fingered hand.
Nervously he pulled at the collar of his shirt, impatient to get through one of the rare events that required he wear his only suit. Max was officially going public, reappearing in the Wizarding World after a month of hiding in the Estate. Somehow the press had sniffed him out; Alex had thought it better he come out of hiding on his own terms rather than wait for eager journalists to spot him in a Kameren Estate window.
‘His own terms’, however, was a loose interpretation of this day. They had succumbed to the fact that the only way to keep the press away from the still-fragile fugitive was to speak to them. All of them. Max had read a monotone statement to the general press at the Ministry, a line of aurors behind him and his loved ones in the wings as Head Auror Kameren followed up with an update on the murdered file clerk. Then he sat for interviews; nine of them, a descent into another circle of Hell represented by each paper somehow more obscure than the last. When the previous interview asked him how being an Aquarius had helped him survive torture in captivity, he briefly contemplated taking his chances back in the box.
“So I couldn’t help but notice, at the announcement... Rowena Covington.” The reporter’s thin brow tweaked upward and her colorful quill sprung to work, scrawling away meticulously perched out of Max’s eyeline. “The Dawn that Saved the Shadowed Battle. Now heading up St. Mungo’s Wizarding Hospital, where you also worked. What’s the history there?”
“I, uh...” Max shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his head sagging back to examining the new fingers attached to his hand. “I’d like to keep the interview to the details of the case, if we could. Please.”
“Of course!” She winked and now Max fully understood what her initial smile meant. “Would you say it’s the shared experience of your mutual trauma that brought you together?”
Max sighed. “I need a break.”
.. .. ..
Max practically crawled into the Aurors’ break room, so heavy were his shoulders. After a month he still wasn’t sleeping at night, the dark and the quiet pulling his mind back to his capture. The days had been just as long at the Kameren Estate, with Alex working long hours and leaving Max alone without an aura to ground him.
But he could rejoin the world now, at least. It had been all he thought about in the box, what the world outside was like and how his loved ones had fared. Now he could join them, return to his apartment, and tell his mum. Maybe even rejoin St. Mungo’s. Rowena was there, after all.
The thought gave Max the momentary spark that was just enough to bolster him across the break room, his newfound fingers finding a Ministry mug at the coffee station. But when he picked up the carafe it lifted too easily. Empty. Max groaned perhaps too loud for the very minor setback, letting off some of the frustration from his interviews by clumsily resetting the coffee maker and melting into a break room chair to wait.
the reporter’s smile was a smear of scarlet that Max couldn’t interpret as friendly or menacing. He replied with a tense nod, fidgeting with the thin silver rings on his two right-hand fingers. The bands controlled his newly-administered prosthetics, each finger controlling another to give the illusion of a five-fingered hand.
Nervously he pulled at the collar of his shirt, impatient to get through one of the rare events that required he wear his only suit. Max was officially going public, reappearing in the Wizarding World after a month of hiding in the Estate. Somehow the press had sniffed him out; Alex had thought it better he come out of hiding on his own terms rather than wait for eager journalists to spot him in a Kameren Estate window.
‘His own terms’, however, was a loose interpretation of this day. They had succumbed to the fact that the only way to keep the press away from the still-fragile fugitive was to speak to them. All of them. Max had read a monotone statement to the general press at the Ministry, a line of aurors behind him and his loved ones in the wings as Head Auror Kameren followed up with an update on the murdered file clerk. Then he sat for interviews; nine of them, a descent into another circle of Hell represented by each paper somehow more obscure than the last. When the previous interview asked him how being an Aquarius had helped him survive torture in captivity, he briefly contemplated taking his chances back in the box.
“So I couldn’t help but notice, at the announcement... Rowena Covington.” The reporter’s thin brow tweaked upward and her colorful quill sprung to work, scrawling away meticulously perched out of Max’s eyeline. “The Dawn that Saved the Shadowed Battle. Now heading up St. Mungo’s Wizarding Hospital, where you also worked. What’s the history there?”
“I, uh...” Max shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his head sagging back to examining the new fingers attached to his hand. “I’d like to keep the interview to the details of the case, if we could. Please.”
“Of course!” She winked and now Max fully understood what her initial smile meant. “Would you say it’s the shared experience of your mutual trauma that brought you together?”
Max sighed. “I need a break.”
.. .. ..
Max practically crawled into the Aurors’ break room, so heavy were his shoulders. After a month he still wasn’t sleeping at night, the dark and the quiet pulling his mind back to his capture. The days had been just as long at the Kameren Estate, with Alex working long hours and leaving Max alone without an aura to ground him.
But he could rejoin the world now, at least. It had been all he thought about in the box, what the world outside was like and how his loved ones had fared. Now he could join them, return to his apartment, and tell his mum. Maybe even rejoin St. Mungo’s. Rowena was there, after all.
The thought gave Max the momentary spark that was just enough to bolster him across the break room, his newfound fingers finding a Ministry mug at the coffee station. But when he picked up the carafe it lifted too easily. Empty. Max groaned perhaps too loud for the very minor setback, letting off some of the frustration from his interviews by clumsily resetting the coffee maker and melting into a break room chair to wait.
