Gods & Monsters -> Playing Nice
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October 1950. Chilly and gloomy, rainy. Full moon: 25th.

Welcome to Gods and Monsters! We are an au-Riddle Era roleplay with no word count and a short, freeform application.
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 Playing Nice, Tag: Oliver / Aug 1950
beatrix p. nott
 Posted: Jan 8 2018, 09:25 AM
Quote
beatrix p. nott
21
female
pureblood
89
POSTS
International Law Office Secretary
SHIPPER
REQUEST
TRACKER
DEVELOPMENT
Heterosexual
engaged
Di
She - GMT - Online


August 1950 • @oliver a. macdougall
Beatrix couldn’t believe it had come to this. Not only was her duddering old fool of a boss intent on making her run about doing stuff for him (it was in the job description) but he was furthering her embarrassment by turning her into his errand girl. To Macdougall, no less. A bleeding-heart beast lover, only a few years older than her eldest brother, who had somehow wiggled his way into the Wizengamot. Clearly he had done more than enough favours for the previous Minister to inherit such a position. It was enough to make any sane person sick. With a massive smile and a seething undercurrent of disgust in the very fabric of her being, she made her way through the Ministry to the lower levels where the filth Chamber members had their offices.

It wasn’t that Beatrix had much to do with MacDougall that gave her such a dislike of him, but she had heard things. Secrets didn’t stay secret for very long if you were as outspoken as he seemed to be, taking every opportunity to criticise the new werewolf registry. Maybe he was a werewolf, that would explain his dislike of it all. It would also explain why he had decided to waste both her and her boss’ time (not that the coffin dodger needed an excuse to waste time) finding as many statutes as possible, both current and extant, which related to what could and couldn’t be done with registry information. Not that it matters, she thought to herself as her heels clicked along the stone floor and she cast friendly smiles at people she would rather cover in jam and set insects on. New laws get made all the time. If the Minister wants to round up the beasts, why shouldn’t he?

Eventually she arrived outside his office door, his brass nameplate mocking all that real Witches and Wizards, the ones who weren’t about to try and breed with animals, stood for. In the silence of the corridor her top lip curled slightly in disgust as she sighed, straightening out her dark form fitting skirt as she did so. With the large paper file tucked under her left arm, she raised her right hand to knock on the door, taking a moment to plaster a helpful smile on her face before her thin knuckles rapped on the wood.

She hoped she wouldn’t be there for too long, being nice to idiots was hard.

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oliver a. macdougall
 Posted: Jan 12 2018, 08:21 PM
Quote
oliver a. macdougall
28
male
halfblood
85
POSTS
Wizengamot member
SHIPPER
REQUEST
TRACKER
DEVELOPMENT
Heterosexual
single
Lanabanana
she/her - CET - Offline


Playing nice
They had lost a significant battle – one could even argue, the war in its entirety. The Werewolf Registry was now a reality that everyone had to adjust to, regardless of one’s opinion on it, and adjusting they were. ‘They’ made up only a modest number; ‘they’ meant Oliver and what little allies he had within the Wizengamot, and they were now regrouping. No longer was their task obstruction; it was damage control, and the former Hufflepuff was determined to see to it that being on record would have little to no negative effect on the, already difficult, lives of the country’s Werewolves.
Given the recent rise in what was supposedly Werewolf-related attacks in and around London, the Registry could seem like a sensible, almost innocent idea – at least on the surface, but Oliver didn’t have to think much below that to see the more sinister implications. Demanding that the name of every Werewolf in the nation be kept on record amounted, in his eyes, to a vilification of an entire population group based on nothing but race, and that made for a slippery slope. He had raised these concerns in the Wizengamot, but the current political climate was a volatile one. Instead of seriously addressing the critiques that he had presented, a strategy had been employed to imply that, perhaps, Oliver was the one who held dubious sympathies. Did he really endorse the killing of Muggles, etc.

The Scot let out a sigh as he leaned back in his chair, offering his tired eyes a moment’s reprieve from reading. At that moment, a knock sounded against the office door.
He could have opened it simply with a flick of his wand, but the thought of stretching his legs seemed pleasant enough for him to get up from his seat behind the desk. There was something about magic that made it easy for people to be just a bit lazy in their lives, but Oliver generally disliked sitting still for long periods at a time. He usually found that his thoughts flowed with greater ease when he was doing something with his body, whether it be walking or manually repotting plants.
He opened the door and revealed a dark-haired witch on the other side. She wore a kind smile, and under her arm, she carried a rather large paper file. It took a second for him to recognise the young woman as Beatrix Nott, secretary to –– whom? For the life of him, Oliver couldn’t recall his name in that moment.
“Miss Nott,” he greeted her with a nod, politely returning her smile, “From International Law, if I remember correctly? Please, come in.”
Oliver took a step back to allow her entry into his office, holding the door open for her. It bothered him somewhat, having to ask, but even if he wanted to, it would be impossible for him to remember the face of everyone he crossed paths with within the Ministry.
He knew her older brother, although far from intimately. He knew him simply as Nott, first from school and later from within the halls of Ministry, and the air between the two had never been particularly warm. It was one thing to downplay your sympathies in a professional context and quite another to do it at a school where rumours, like owls, had fluttering wings. Of the young secretary's sympathies, he new nothing, however, and he greeted her with the same open civility that he did anyone who hadn't given him reason not to.
“So, what can I do for you?” he asked her, once she was inside.
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beatrix p. nott
 Posted: Jan 15 2018, 07:08 AM
Quote
beatrix p. nott
21
female
pureblood
89
POSTS
International Law Office Secretary
SHIPPER
REQUEST
TRACKER
DEVELOPMENT
Heterosexual
engaged
Di
She - GMT - Online


August 1950 • @oliver a. macdougall
Beatrix felt like she was stood for an age staring at the brass nameplate on the dark wood in front of her. How long does it take to open a darn door? She thought to herself sourly, as she could already feel her cheeks hurting from the effort to not scowl. Flick your wand, it’s a simple action! She shifted slightly from foot to foot as she glanced both ways down the still empty corridor. Where was everyone? Did the Wizengamot get packed away in boxes in their offices when they weren’t being used? Maybe there was a big dormitory somewhere. That made sense, half of the men were older than her grandfather, no doubt they needed their naps.

Finally, the door opened to reveal the far too young (for the position) brown haired gentleman she had been instructed to find. Then… nothing. Beatrix found herself smiling politely into the silence between them as she came to the conclusion that he had forgotten her name. Well that was rude. Luckily for him, he remembered it before she had to prompt him, otherwise she really would have been annoyed. “Your memory serves you well, Mr MacDougall,” she informed him with a level of politeness only a secretary could manage as she stepped into the office. “There are lots of people to remember in these departments, sometimes even I struggle.” It wasn’t a lie per se, although most of the time she didn’t actually care.

Walking futher into the office, she politely glanced around at her surroundings with feigned interest. It was a nice office as far as they went, less grand than the ones she was used to seeing upstairs but they were often used for meetings too. It was a shame the space was going to waste on someone like him. “I think it’s more a case of what I can do for you, actually,” Beatrix responded, shifting her focus from the surroundings to the man who was occupying the space in them. “We, and by that I mean my boss and I, heard you were looking for statutes regarding what can and can’t be done with registries. Well, please don’t take this the wrong way, but if you tried to enter our archives I suspect you would get lost. Therefore, we decided to bring them to you.”

We decided? Beatrix decided nothing. If it was up to her, they would have all been incinerated rather than given to someone like MacDougall, but here she was. “They’re all in here,” she continued as she deliberately opened the folder upside down and back to front. “Oh, hang on. I knew I should have marked the front on the folder.” She let out a short, embarrassed laugh as she walked over to the large desk and placed it down on it, this time the correct way around, before opening the front cover to reveal a small mountain of pages with the occasional slip of paper jutting out from them. “I’ve organised them too for easy reference,” that at least was true, she hated doing half a job, even when it was for a Blood Traitor. “Not just by current and previous laws, but also who they affected and things like that.”

Standing up properly from her previous position, she once again turned to look up at the gentleman, ever the perfect helpful secretary. “Do you think this would be any use to you?”

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oliver a. macdougall
 Posted: Feb 2 2018, 10:38 AM
Quote
oliver a. macdougall
28
male
halfblood
85
POSTS
Wizengamot member
SHIPPER
REQUEST
TRACKER
DEVELOPMENT
Heterosexual
single
Lanabanana
she/her - CET - Offline


Playing nice
There were lots of people to remember in the departments, and sometimes even Beatrix Nott struggled. Most people who worked within the Ministry did, Oliver suspected; he knew of at least a couple of colleagues of his who went so far as to keep charts that contained not only names but also select personal details about other Ministry employees – ‘conversation topics’, they called them. He hadn’t been a member of the Wizengamot for more than a month before someone advised him that he do the same, but the suggestion had made him strangely uncomfortable. Something about it was a little too calculated for the former Hufflepuff – it seemed almost dishonest and frankly, a bit creepy.

The secretary entered the office, and Oliver closed the door behind her for good measure. Now that she was inside his office, the hallway was once again depopulated, but if he had learnt any lesson from years of working within the Ministry, it was that prying ears were never far away.
He had asked her what he could do for her, but his phrasing should have been the other way around, she informed him; it was more of a case of what she could do for him. Oliver regarded the secretary attentively, eyebrows slightly arched. From what she related, he quickly gathered that an “ally” of his must have spoken to her boss, as he had promised he would.

She didn’t want him to take it the wrong way, but she suspected that he would get lost if he ever tried to enter her department’s archives. Oliver laughed at this, briefly bowing his head in agreement. The archives of the International department were famously labyrinthine, and he didn’t delude himself for one moment into thinking that he would stand a chance inside the systemised chaos.

He regarded the witch with mild patience as she briefly fumbled with the folder that she was carrying, seemingly opening it the wrong way. She let out an embarrassed laugh as she walked over to his desk, but as he followed her in order to take a closer look at the file, he simply smiled in understanding. Fortunately, his desk was experiencing one of its more orderly days, and there was ample room for the secretary to open the file. She revealed a minor ridge of papers, and the wizard’s eyebrows arched once more in mild surprise.

She had organised them for easy reference – did he think it would be of any use to him?

Oliver took a step closer to the desk, taking a moment to inspect the stack of papers.
“Yes,” he mumbled, his mind only present in the conversation in part, as he examined the writing on the little pieces of paper that stuck out from the pile. “Yes, this is very helpful,” he elaborated with a slight nod for emphasis following a quiet moment. He looked up at the secretary once more.
“Thank you. This is much more than I had expected.” A smile accompanied this addition, the last part of which wasn’t intended to be condescending – hopefully, his tone indicated as much. As a rule, Oliver didn’t expect anyone to do a bad job (and in the rare cases when he did, it was founded on sound empirical evidence), but he knew how busy most departments were, and scraping by by doing the bare minimum was generally an accepted practice under some department heads.

“It’s a terribly messy affair,” he offered, mainly as a commentary, knowing full well that the registry was a divisive subject, even amongst those who generally favoured equality. It seemed that there was nothing like fear that could erode a person’s principles.

He lightly tapped the first page of the file, briefly debating whether or not he should dive in right away – but he remembered his aching eyes and stiff neck.
“Can I offer you anything, Miss?” he asked, indicating a kettle that floated in the corner, the water already bubbling inside, “I was just about to have a cup of tea myself.”
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