Dorian had always been something of a gigglemug. He was an easy man, excited by the simplest of prospects. There weren't many circumstances that threatened this relaxed demeanor of him. Fewer still that left him standing on needles and pins. However, landing himself in the spell damage ward of St. Mungo's in the wee hours of Christmas morning just so happened to be one of those dampening effects.
Working throughout the Christmas holiday was always a task he volunteered for. The Fisk's, unlike most of wizarding Britain, were known to be Jewish, and thus their celebration of Christmas revolved solely upon their close friends who were decidedly Christian. He didn't care much either way whether or not his colleagues got to be near their families for the holiday, but the batty-fang leader of their committee seemingly did. Dorian knew better than to wage war against the pantry politics that were the Ministry of Magic, which left him on call from Christmas Eve until the monday following.
Wonderful.
Christmas Eve had gone well for the most part. The single call consisted of removing the charms from enchanted ornaments whizzing about the room, a no brainer that was more boring than a daisy-five-o'clocker. All hell had broken loose at midnight, though. First, a young child thought to be a harmless muggle, who really ought to have been in bed, had caused a revolveress to shoot off several rounds in a muggle home. Then, a toddler decided to be frightened by the tale of good ol' Saint Nicholas and afternoonified his entire household. The bright daylight took the better part of three hours to disenchant, finished all whilst dear Mrs. Puddlebottom shrieked about Christmas being ruined.
It was the third stop on Christmas that sent Dory to the hospital. He laid in the bed on his side, a bit 'o Raspberry being coughed into the nearby bucket with every breath. He wouldn't have stoped into the hospital at all, except that the coughing left him feeling like the next thing to judgement day. His limbs were like jelly, his head even moreso. And all because a bloody toddler decided to sneak out of bed for a bloody raspberry cookie. Dorian rarely had such reelings from a young child, but this one he dreamt of rebounding this particularly awful charm upon.
He was mid coughing fit when the door opened behind him. Try as he might to turn and greet his healer, Dorian couldn't will his jellied body to move.
https://charmingrp.com/showthread.php?tid=7323&action=lastpost
Working throughout the Christmas holiday was always a task he volunteered for. The Fisk's, unlike most of wizarding Britain, were known to be Jewish, and thus their celebration of Christmas revolved solely upon their close friends who were decidedly Christian. He didn't care much either way whether or not his colleagues got to be near their families for the holiday, but the batty-fang leader of their committee seemingly did. Dorian knew better than to wage war against the pantry politics that were the Ministry of Magic, which left him on call from Christmas Eve until the monday following.
Wonderful.
Christmas Eve had gone well for the most part. The single call consisted of removing the charms from enchanted ornaments whizzing about the room, a no brainer that was more boring than a daisy-five-o'clocker. All hell had broken loose at midnight, though. First, a young child thought to be a harmless muggle, who really ought to have been in bed, had caused a revolveress to shoot off several rounds in a muggle home. Then, a toddler decided to be frightened by the tale of good ol' Saint Nicholas and afternoonified his entire household. The bright daylight took the better part of three hours to disenchant, finished all whilst dear Mrs. Puddlebottom shrieked about Christmas being ruined.
It was the third stop on Christmas that sent Dory to the hospital. He laid in the bed on his side, a bit 'o Raspberry being coughed into the nearby bucket with every breath. He wouldn't have stoped into the hospital at all, except that the coughing left him feeling like the next thing to judgement day. His limbs were like jelly, his head even moreso. And all because a bloody toddler decided to sneak out of bed for a bloody raspberry cookie. Dorian rarely had such reelings from a young child, but this one he dreamt of rebounding this particularly awful charm upon.
He was mid coughing fit when the door opened behind him. Try as he might to turn and greet his healer, Dorian couldn't will his jellied body to move.
https://charmingrp.com/showthread.php?tid=7323&action=lastpost