March 22nd, 1890 — St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies & Injuries, Artifact Incidents Ward

In the months since first your fingers grazed its surface, the pendant had become a part of you, the daily wearing of it almost a necessity—though you would protest loudly to all who questioned it that they were being foolish. Even you had to admit, however, that there was something not quite normal about it. Perhaps it was how tired it made you feel, as though it had a substantial physical weight to it. Perhaps instead, the fact that your lady's maid had commented more than once on how slim you were growing (and you were hardly round to begin with).

Still, you persisted.

You do not remember blacking out yesterday, and so are surprised when your eyes open to a hospital ward. The part of your sternum just above your chest feels icy cold, though you cannot see it for the bandages, robe, and thin hospital quilt.

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— Guinevere Lukeson —

  

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Are your characters stuck in the smalltalk loop?
Does your imagination feel like it just can't perform as it used to?
Mid-thread crisis getting you down?
Unable to get that post up?
Is your relationship suffering because of your inability to satisfy your partner?
SUFFER NO MORE!
With a little intervention from The Suggestionizer your RP life could be back on track in no time!

--> Click here for more details <--

Known side-effects include: chronic ridiculousness, immense satisfaction, itching, uncontrollable laughter, burning, deep regret, despair, shock, horror, incidental dismemberment, joy, and death. Use at your own risk!

Days had gone by in which Guinevere certainly wasn't her normal self. Quicker to anger, as least when it came to her necklace. She had always been a gentle soul, and Brenda had made note of that on the last time she visited for tea. But Guinevere had not wanted to hear a word of it. It was just a necklace, wasn't it?

Her own outings had become less and less common as she had grown more tired. It was odd. Something told her it was the necklace, but that just couldn't be right. The weight wasn't noticeable to her, until the lady's maid had brought it up. Not that this changed anything, really.

So waking up in a hospital ward that she didn't remember going to did set of a surge of panic. As did the cold feeling on her chest. She reached for the place that the necklace had rested for so long.

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MJ made Magic!

You feel only fabric and a sense of forboding as the door to your private room opens.

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— Guinevere Lukeson —

  

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Are your characters stuck in the smalltalk loop?
Does your imagination feel like it just can't perform as it used to?
Mid-thread crisis getting you down?
Unable to get that post up?
Is your relationship suffering because of your inability to satisfy your partner?
SUFFER NO MORE!
With a little intervention from The Suggestionizer your RP life could be back on track in no time!

--> Click here for more details <--

Known side-effects include: chronic ridiculousness, immense satisfaction, itching, uncontrollable laughter, burning, deep regret, despair, shock, horror, incidental dismemberment, joy, and death. Use at your own risk!

This, this was not something she very much well expected in the last few months. She was quite overwhelmed. What was she to think? Looking at the door as it opened, she let out a shakey breath that she did not know she had been holding.

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MJ made Magic!

She had been making her usual rounds of the ward, but this time one of their most recent patients seemed to be awake. “Mrs. Lukeson,” Rosamund said softly, relieved to see that the woman was finally conscious. It did not escape her attention that the woman was grasping at her necklace-less chest, but better not mention it to her just yet outright. “How are you feeling today?” She asked instead.

She looked better than she had when she had come in unconscious yesterday, still wearing the pendant. A little rest had done much for her. But, Rommy thought, even without it, she did not yet look well.

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How was she feeling? That really was a good question, now wasn't it. "I..." She still tried to think. "I feel cold." Well, one part of her did. She was so used to thinking of the necklace, she didn't really know how to stop.

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MJ made Magic!

“You were brought in to us yesterday after you lost consciousness, I don’t know if you recall that,” Rosamund explained carefully, sure that the woman was feeling rather perplexed by where she had found herself. She drew her wand and pointed it at the woman’s temple to take her temperature, and her wand tip glowed briefly blue - still worryingly low.

“I’ll have someone bring you another blanket,” she added reassuringly, her gaze falling next to where the woman’s hand was resting on her chest. “But you had better not press on your bandages just there, Madam,” Rommy instructed, wary of the wound at her chest beginning to bleed again from where they had eventually had to sever the pendant’s chain off her. She had not been awake to take it off herself; and she had not shown the faintest signs of consciousness until the object was well away from her.

Hopefully she would not ask where it was now.

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WHAT DO YOU DO?
a. Follow directions
b. Press on the bandages

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— Guinevere Lukeson —

  

---

Are your characters stuck in the smalltalk loop?
Does your imagination feel like it just can't perform as it used to?
Mid-thread crisis getting you down?
Unable to get that post up?
Is your relationship suffering because of your inability to satisfy your partner?
SUFFER NO MORE!
With a little intervention from The Suggestionizer your RP life could be back on track in no time!

--> Click here for more details <--

Known side-effects include: chronic ridiculousness, immense satisfaction, itching, uncontrollable laughter, burning, deep regret, despair, shock, horror, incidental dismemberment, joy, and death. Use at your own risk!

What? Yesterday? How long had she been here? Had it been evening that she can't recall? Or morning? What had she been doing before this? It felt like a haze as all she could truly focus on was that the necklace was gone. It was hers, it should be with her. It was a gift, for Merlin's sake. What could she do without it?

"But... I need my necklace." She stated with insistence, not even realizing that she was putting pressure on her chest until she gasped in pain. That wasn't what she had planned to feel. Even her instincts planned to find a necklace that didn't belong there in the first place. She needed her necklace though.

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MJ made Magic!

“Madam!” Rosamund declared in warning, even as her last was disregarded and the woman kept patting at her bandaged chest, obviously not finding what she was looking for and only doing herself more damage in the process. “Mrs. Lukeson, please take care,” she said, reaching out to try and grasp around the woman’s wrist to guide it - force it - back down to her side.

“I’m afraid I cannot give it back to you,” Rommy added. She didn’t even know exactly where it was now, herself - it had been confiscated the moment they’d gotten it off the woman, as it was obviously highly cursed, and had been feeding off its owner with an increasingly brutal appetite.

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Can't give it back? Did they destroy it? "What did you do with my necklace?" She demanded, grabbing the young woman's wrist. This was certainly not like her, but Guinevere couldn't think about anything else. What else was there to think about?

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MJ made Magic!

“Madam Lukeson,” Rommy said sharply, flinching as her patient got ahold of her wrist now, and none too lightly. She had faced... disconcerted patients before, whose panic or affliction might cause some amount of lashing out, but she had not expected it of a society woman who had come in faint, necklace or not! And the necklace wasn’t even on her anymore!

“It’s in safe keeping, I promise,” she lied hastily, trying not to get worked up and make things worse, but glancing sidelong in spite of herself to see whether someone else might be near, a little wary of the woman’s unnatural reaction.

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By the way that the healer couldn't meet her eyes, Guinevere could almost feel the lie. Letting go of the wrist, she started an attempt at getting up. If this so called healer was not going to give back her necklace, she would find it on her own.

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MJ made Magic!

There was no one around to come to her aid, Rommy saw, and so forced herself to exhale, to somehow get a grip on this situation. She wasn’t an intern any longer, and Mrs. Lukeson was a respected society lady on paper: this ought not to be so threatening an encounter.

Madam Lukeson had let go of her wrist, and for a moment Rosamund thought she had succeeded - but then the woman started getting out of bed. “Mrs. Lukeson, I must insist that you stay where you are,” she ordered with a new degree of forcefulness, loath to take any further measures against a patient who was as physically drained as her, but... having to contemplate next steps, all the same. They could not have Mrs. Lukeson tearing down the halls and ransacking the hospital, after all!

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There didn't seem to be any way that Guinevere was going to listen to this child for a moment longer. Goodness sakes, this girl looked younger than Ace. Then again, Guinevere didn't really take a good look at her. How was the girl ever to be taken seriously?

Guinevere Jenessa Lukeson stood for all of two seconds before promptly stumbling into the healer.

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MJ made Magic!

The woman didn’t listen, which Rosamund had half-expected. What she hadn’t quite prepared for was that Mrs. Lukeson’s sudden surge of furious energy had deserted her within seconds flat as soon as she stood, and she collided with Rommy, knocking the healer to the floor.

It had been a long month, Rommy thought wearily, as she didn’t rest on her (sore) laurels long before kneeling upwards to steady the woman, propping her up with both hands - a little more gently this time, just in case she reacted the way she had.

“Your children are all very worried about you,” Rosamund said meaningfully, trying to convince the woman that her priority ought to be getting better rather than worrying about the necklace, and physically guiding her back to her bed as she spoke. Mrs. Lukeson didn’t feel like herself, obviously; Rommy hoped this time the truth would sink in, past the unsettling connection the woman had to that thing. “It was the necklace that did this to you.”

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