Absit Omen RPG

An unheard scream woke Cillian in a cold sweat. He sat bolt upright panting, blinking rapidly to clear the images from the back of his eyes. It had been a while since he had a dream. It had been quiet and comforting lately. He felt the spot on the bed next to him in the dark before remembering that there would be nothing to find. It had been a few weeks now since Penelope had moved out and he wasn't exactly sad to see her go. Although at times like these having a warm body next to you was much more comforting than the cold emptiness that greeted him.

He kicked off the covers and rose out of bed grabbing a pair of sweat pants off the floor and tossing them on. He crossed the cool floor and tore back the sashes covering the small window looking out onto Main Street. He calmed his racing heart long enough to focus again on the vision that had woken him. There were screams and fire and crying. He moved his hazel eyes away from the shop lights and towards the small cottages that made up the small wizarding village.

He took a deep shuddering breath as he focused on one house in particular, "I've gotta save her."

Cillian let a smile play across his lips, "Ah wouldn' expect anythin' less." Not only did Aisling seem like the kind of woman to take meticulous care of everything she owned, especially those items she had a passion for, but he was pretty sure she was a well off enough witch to have a house elf or two bustling around. Being muggleborn Cillian never understood the fascination wizard's had with the little creatures but he supposed had his parents been rich he would have had a nanny and a few servants here and there. It was essentially the same thing when you ignored the fact that the elves were slaves. Cillian refrained himself from chuckling when he remembered the campaign that was going through Hogwarts when he was a student, something about elf rights, he had never really paid attention at the time.

She caught him a little lost in his thoughts when she asked about any upcoming seminars, "I don' haff anythin' definitive planned," It wasn't like he was spending long nights at work because there was actual work to be done and Penelope wasn't ragging on him to spend time with her on the weekends anymore, in fact she seemed to be going out of her way to ignore him these days, so most of his time was actually free, "But once somethin' becomes more solid I'll definitely let ye know."

He gave her another charming smile, "Why don' we git tha' rung through fer yeh?" He held his hands out for the items she had picked, "Unless there was somethin' else Ah culd do fer yeh?"

Cillian rubbed the back of his neck as he gave some thought to the book. True it was one of his favourites regarding the subject in question but then again it wasn't a very popular subject. It seemed like once in a blue moon that he actually had a customer enquire about it and he wasn't used to spending that much time in the store as it was, "Neva really tought bout it. When it firs came in mebbe but not recently. Wouldn' know where ta start ta be 'onest."

He glanced at the shelf itself. He knew the night crew had been given explicit instructions on how to take care of everything when they closed up. Which cleaners to use, which spells had to be performed on a nightly basis so that none of the merchandise got ruined or deteriorated. This shelf in particular had about seven spells that needed to be performed on a regular basis.

"There are a few care spells tha' need ta be performed ta keep it in shape, nuthin' too complicated. I'll make sure ye git a list o' e'm when ye check out." Cillian smirked, "An' I'm sure she'd like a place o' pride afta all dese years onna shelf." It may have sounded weird to refer to the book with such personality but Cillian had been around enough magical objects over his years to know that most of them did pick up a little bit of personality whether you wanted them to or not. It was just the nature of magic he supposed. Perhaps that was why he preferred furnishing his flat with as much muggle items as possible.

Cillian sat up a little straighter taking a longer sip of his still steaming goblet. Now that the Minister was gone he felt a little better and he was happy to see that his colleagues seemed to be of the same mind as him. It was great to get funding but when the public got involved there was nothing good about it. Fifteen years ago the public didn't even know about his job or the existence of the Hall he protected, then the Famous Harry Potter comes along, makes a mess of everything and the whole Department had the public eye on them. They didn't need something like that again.

"Do we need thee fundin' tha' badly? I mean, I know it'd be nice ta pad thee coffers a lil, gives us sum breathin' room but at thee expense of havin' everyone know what we're doin?"

He nodded to Francis, "Pepper's gotta point, doin' thee career fest a' 'Ogwarts was one thin'," His hazel eyes cast over Theta and Chris, knowing they were the newest recruits into the Department and just out of Hogwarts themselves, "but exposin' our work, lettin' thee public in? Jus askin fer trubble if ye ask me."

Cillian gave a polite smile and a nod. He was a muggleborn and an orphan but he wasn't a stranger to the ideals of proper wizard society even outside the pure blood fanatics. It wasn't that far from any high society in the muggle world. People seemed to think that wealth was synonymous with etiquette and a certain type of behaviour. It was almost entertaining to see how many similarities there really were between muggle and wizard even no one else was willing to see it.

He tried not to cringe but couldn't help the tint of crimson that rose to his cheeks when she mentioned the store was his now. It wasn't that he didn't want the shop, it had been a large part of his life for many years now it just had never been a role he had seen himself in. He had no idea what he had expected from life but somehow this wasn't it. Maybe it was his disdain for the customers or his failing relationship but there was just something about his whole situation that left him feeling uneasy and on edge. Thankfully Aisling was the kind of woman to stay on topics that didn't involve his personal life.

"When Ah firs got it in, dhey were thinkin' it was Mesopotamian, but it culd be even older than that."

Cillian had kept his eyes on his pepper-up potion at intently as if he were seeing a vision within the goblet's depths. He wasn't fond of meetings and didn't like discussing his work. Not so much because he didn't like sharing but mostly because it was mind numbingly boring most of the time. Cillian himself, aside from being a bonafide Seer, was simply a Keeper. He kept things safe and in order, he had no real purpose outside of the hall. There were no experiments to speak of or great discoveries, mostly just documentation and the occasional opportunity to find a new Seer.

When the Minister entered he didn't bother looking up either. Even though he had been invited to the last meeting regarding a political scuffle with the Goblins, Cillian still felt awkward around the woman after having refused giving her advice on her future when she was running for office. He supposed he was always going to feel that way. However he couldn't help the compulsive flicker to look at the woman as she mentioned his department in particular. He stared after her even as the others made their concerns or rather silences known.

It was true that in the past prophecies had made a large impact on the wizarding world, the most notably of course being the one involving Harry and the Dark Lord but the department had been quiet since then, rebuilding, recovering. Any important prophecy that had been made in the past had been destroyed and there had been no major breakthroughs since then. He moved his eyes over the others in the room, surely Experimental Spell Research and whatever it was Downer was up to these days deserved more attention than a cold hall filled with dusty orbs that contained nothing more exciting than a burglary or a potion accident. 

Cillian's been personally involved with following two werewolf concerned plots (the werewolf fighting ring run by the criminals and the when humans attack plot that involves human retaliation on werewolves. Though I've been out of the loop for a bit so I'm not sure where either plot is going)

However being curator of the hall of prophecies he does have constant access to all known seers and documents their visions from the epic prophecies (of the Potter/Voldermort kind) to the little mundane things that have no real bearing on  anything. It's very possible that he's come across things regarding Ana or her work and could pass it onto ward if he's asked for any information.

Cillian wandered into the meeting room looking as tired and disheveled as usual. His beard was getting scruffy again and his long hair stuck out at odd angles around his ears. The dark circles under his eyes were prominent enough to look as though he were wearing make up. He held a steaming goblet of pepper-up potion, his preferred alternative to coffee and sat down at the table. He didn't normally associate with the rest of the department and it had nothing to do with whether or not he liked the other unspeakables. His job wasn't exactly a social one and he did his job well enough on his own. He only really associated with everyone else when meetings like these were called.

"Mornin'." He said simply to the others stifling a yawn and taking a sip of the steaming potion. He had been in his office all night. He had made a breakthrough in the werewolf visions the day before. A simple routine check on some of the others Seers in the UK had come up with another having very similar dreams to his own regarding the safety of the local weres[1]. He was hoping that collaborating with another Seer he'd be able to pin point when things were supposed to happen and what kind of danger they were all in[2]. He had a few rolls of parchment with him, regarding the current visions coming through his office including a sketch another Seer had made of the wolf he had been seeing himself.

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1. Sport Of the Least Noble Kind
2. When Humans Attack

Cillian chuckled, "Oh aye, quite thee asset Ah've become, sittin' at me desk all day twiddlin' me tumbs." Cillian let out a bitter chuckle. He actually rather enjoyed his work but it was as unpredictable as the visions and prophecies he cataloged. He had gone entire weeks without actually doing any work simply because there was nothing for him to do. Though he had to admit as lonely as it was it was rather nice to spend so much time alone to sift through his own visions and try to determine any meaning or warning in them. The dreams on a magical disease epidemic seemed to have ebbed (perhaps the immediate danger had passed) but the dreams with the werewolves were becoming much more persistent.

He suddenly seemed to realize what he had said and gave her a sheepish grin, "Fergive me, when Ah firs' started 'ere thee owner though' me accent was too 'arsh fer thee customers. I jus got used ta speakin' all proper fer 'im."

He cleared his throat and brought his mind back to the issue at hand. He looked from the knife she was holding to the tomes displayed on the wall. He pulled a heavy leather bound one off the shelf. It looked aged, the leather worn down in a few of the corners and the pages had yellowed. He flipped it open, the ink was light and on some pages where there were intricate diagrams that were brown and suggested that when the book had been written they were originally scribed in the blood of the animal that had been described.

"Dhis beauty 'ere, is onna me favourties. She's old but well wurff it. Thee diagrams are thee most intricate Ah've managed ta find, an' dhere's whole chapters on thee history o' each ritual."

I'll throw Cillian into the meetings as well.

He's been keeping quiet and to himself, spends all his time in the Hall of Prophecy mapping new prophecies, collecting and cataloging them as well as keeping track of existing and upcoming Seers, possible Seers. I don't know how much involvement he has with the rest of the department since I haven't had too many chances to actually play him at work. Could be fun to see what happens there.

Cillian watched her with interest as she viewed the display case. Despite himself he was trying to put on his best face and give her the type of service that customers had come to respect from the Inner Eye. While he didn't like the customer service part and had mostly stuck to doing private lessons and seminars he had been working for the store for almost six years and now that he actually owned the place - having inherited it from it's late owner - he didn't want the shop to lose it's upstanding reputation.

He nodded when she indicated a blade and with a wave of his hand unlocked the display case and carefully removed the blade with a silk cloth handing it over, "It is definitely a pleasure to see you again Madame Knight," He addressed her as such as a show of respect. The lady herself while strikingly beautiful had almost two decades on him and he didn't believe he knew her well enough to address her by her first name anyways.

"I'm working over at the Ministry now, Department of Mysteries, but when the owner of the shop passed away earlier in the year he left it to me." He spoke slow and deliberately knowing that many were unfamiliar with his muddled Irish accent and had a hard time understanding him otherwise. He felt he needed to make a good impression for the sake of the 'sale' though he had to admit to himself afterwards that during his Seminars he often slipped into his common speech and it was likely Aisling had heard it before.

Cillian gave an inward sigh at the look on Selina's face. Either the girl had no idea what she was talking about or she actually was aware of the subject but found it rather disgusting. Either way she didn't look like she was about help the customer. As much as he hated working in the store he couldn't just let the woman go without service, especially when he happened to know her.

"Right this way Madame Knight." He gave Selina a wink and led Aisling down one of the aisle's in the store. He brought her up to a display in the back that showcased several heavy tomes and decorative blades.

"We've got everything you might need. Tomes for every type of Extispicy from beginner to advanced along with many different alters and ceremonial blades." He waved his hand over the display. Despite the bad reputation the ancient form of divination got, Cillian actually liked it. It felt more like being connected with his muggle side than his Seer side and really it wasn't that far from performing an autopsy.

"Not many Diviners practice Extispicy anymore, but from what I remember you were always good with the older practices." She had only attended a few of his seminars but she was memorable enough. She had real respect for the subject and didn't look to it for personal gain, something Cillian found seriously annoying about many of his other students.

The Inner Eye
Hogsmeade
2:30 pm

Cillian descended the stairs at the back of the shop leading from his flat to the back rooms. He past the small conference room past the storage area where he still occasionally gave lectures and lessons regarding divination. There wasn't a large rush of new prophecies being made around the world and it had been some time since he had left the country in search of one which gave him some extra time. He pushed aside the velvet purple curtain that lead him into the main shop itself. He didn't often work the shop, though he now owned it, he felt the clerks and managers were much better suited to serve customers than he ever had been. The small shop had a fair amount of customers shuffling about, he supposed coming close to Christmas the early shoppers were out and about trying to find that perfect gift. Or they were desperate to find some answer as to what the New Year held or whether or not their sweetheart would be theirs by Christmas or even New Years. Cillian abhorred these people.

He approached the front counter with a smile, his beard was well groomed and his hair lay straight and flat with a slight curl around his ears giving him a much less disheveled look than was common for him lately. Most of the dreams had subsided and those that were still persisting, he was simply getting used to. Most were focused around a certain female werewolf he didn't know the identity of and was finding that he was starting to look forward to dreaming of her - at least until the violence slipped in.

"How're things going Selina?"

The fresh faced girl behind the register beamed at him with a wide smile, she looked barely old enough to be out of Hogwarts, "Good day so far Mr. Cuthbert."

Cillian smirked, "Please Selina, you've known me for long enough to call me Cillian."

The girl blushed, "Um I saw Penelope slip out this morning when I opened, she didn't look too happy, is everything okay?"

Cillian smiled despite himself. The blush on her cheeks, the glint in her eyes and the hopeful undertone when she inquired as to the stability of his romantic life lead him to belief she was interested in him but Cillian had other things to think about. It was true that his relationship with Penny had been stressed for quite some time now but neither seemed willing to actually address the issue, "We're fine." He glanced over his shoulder, "Looks like you have a customer."

Cillian remained silent as the Minister voiced the issue at hand and others began to weigh in. He had been up the entire night before, wanting his mind clear for the meeting and not bothered by the haunting visions that were now becoming a nightly occurrence. He had trimmed his hair and beard and was even wearing a pressed suit - something that he had never worn before. His last encounter with Persepolis, before she had been appointed Minister, had not been a pleasant one and he was surprised that he had been called upon for such a meeting. He didn't want to disappoint nor did he want his colleagues to see what kind of condition he was in as of late.

He sat across from Mr. Eleor, whom he hadn't seen since their private discussion in Cillian's office regarding his own visions. Cillian took a sip from a steaming goblet, unlike those around him he wasn't drinking tea or coffee but a Pepper Up potion to keep him awake and alert.

He watched intently as the man across from him spoke and found that he rightly agreed with him. Approaching this issue as nonsense, or unimportant was not the way he would have done it. While he didn't have any suggestions to throw out himself he didn't think taking this issue lightly was going to benefit either side. Not to say that the Minister was being nonchalant about it all but she didn't seem to have much respect for the Goblins, automatically assuming they were in the wrong. He didn't think the Goblins were doing things the right way either but they were definitely getting the attention they were looking for.

For a moment he wondered if Dreogan was still having dreams about his brother's death, at that, he wondered if he had seen anything about the outcome of this current problem. Cillian himself hadn't had any visions regarding goblins but then he usually saw dark and violent things, this mess with the impending Magical Epidemic and the threat to the Werewolves and Muggles. He was so focused on those he hadn't had time to think of anything else. He supposed he could look over the recent prophecies, see if there was anything in there but that didn't help him with the meeting at hand.

Cillian gave the best smile he could muster considering the subject. He spun his hand so that it held her own. His other ran through his already dishevelled hair. He wondered how much he should tell her. It wasn't like any of it was classified and he hadn't really told anyone else about them. He had simply recorded them, filed them away in the long dark halls of his work and tried to ignore the dreams that were beginning to haunt him on a nightly basis.

"Ye rememba Sidney? I've bin havin thees visions bout him an plenty othas but it's thee firs time in years I've recognized summone. There's this lab an sum kinda acciden', then people losin' their magics, magics goin' wild, los o' people are gonna git hurt an' I don' even know where ta start in helpin' 'em."

He took a long pull of his beer and wiped at his shadowed eyes, "Tha's not all. Wish it were though." He took a long steadying breath, "There's bin thee were's agin." A darker shadow seemed to have come over his hazel eyes, "Ye rememba thee attacks in March, I sarw 'em 'appen but this is summat, I dunno even know. They're in pain, it's like there's summone out there is plannin' ta hurt 'em, maybe killem but there's muggle involved too and I keep seein' this place. I jus wish I knew what it all means."