Absit Omen RPG

Career Change

Character Name: Delilah Foley
Character Biography: http://absitomen.com/index.php?topic=5932.0
Previous Job/Position: General Healer in Charge of St. Mungo's, Member of Board of Warlocks
Position Applying For: (just) Member of Board of Warlocks

Why have you chosen to change careers?:
Reduced Activity, making character less of a presence

Elaborate on your expertise in this new field:
] Character has already has the job, am just taking her out of the role of general healer in charge.

Describe your new job and how you go about doing it:
Deals with managerial duties with the Board of Warlocks.

Delilah Foley was not fond of meddling, especially from institutions like the Ministry. On top of that, they weren't medical professionals, so when Zephyr gave her statement on the Ministry's minimal involvement, Delilah gave a pleased smile.

"Thank you," she bowed a nod towards the minister as she politely added, "We strive to keep t'ings clean, simple, and quick--a delicate problem whenever medicine is involved."

She folded one leg over the other and then folded her hands together as they descended upon he knee. She raised a tall eyebrow as she slowly turned her head to the side, "And I'd prefer other schools be kept out of 'dis," Aside from the ministry, the suggestion of a Durmstrang healer being involved raised several questions and suspicions of trust. Yes, Elliot once worked at Mungo's, but either this whole Dragon Pox nonsense was a prank or someone stood to gain from it. So if something awful happened, well, it wouldn't do for another school to be blamed; if it were because of them? Well there'd be no preventing it after the fact. It was always best to be cautious.

The witch's gentle voice began again, "Is 'dere anyt'ing else 'dat worries you?"

"We always have dragon pox cure available," Delilah nodded towards the other witches, "But administering it t' so many students at once would need extra time for brewing."

The witch waved her hand in the air again as she leaned back in her seat, "'Di potion can be taken orally, so after we conduct examinations it should be a quick process," she shrugged her hand to the side as she added, "But again, it's 'di number of students 'dat turns everyt'ing into an ordeal."

Then the witch let her dark gaze drop to the other witch's feet, "Personally, Minister." Her stare flicked up and landed on Zephy again as her voice was quiet and cautious, "I would limit 'di management of 'di examinations to Hogwarts and Mungo's... for now." The implication was obvious, and while the article might just be a bit of fun for someone, with the tournament going on, it seemed more likely something else was at work.

Delilah sat and listened and looked from Zephyr to her assistant at the Minister relayed her concerns for the tournament. Once the other woman was finished the Healer gave a confident nod and began speaking, "Restoring confidence is not a problem," the dark-skinned witch lifted and uncurled her slender fingers. "'Di article's logic is a little off," more than a little, "but, basically, by 'deir reasoning, European students are more likely t' give 'di American ones some sort of malady. So we can give a medical statement, if need be."

The healer then raised a single finger in the air a she continued, "As a follow-up Mungo's can organize some tests, but wit' 'di tournament securities and large amount of students, it will take a lot of coordination." Her forefinger then gently pressed against her cheek as Delilah thoughtfully lifted her chin up, "But options are available--it can be rather simple or very in depth. Depends on what is needed."

Then, what should have been the obvoius question, "Has anyone spoken wit' 'di Hogwarts Healer, Tulojow Nadge yet?"

The Daily Prophet had published a rather paranoid article, that seemed to cause some buzz throughout the day. However, with a daughter who had two Salem students as pen pals over the summer, and one of which who'd nearly adopted the girl, Delilah was hardly concerned about any Dragon Pox; nevermind the fact the article was absolute rubbish.

But it wasn't long into the day until Delilah got a letter from Persepolis Zephyr, the new Minister of Magic, about that very article--at least the Minister knew better than to outright panic.

The towering Jamaican was quickly informed of Zephyr's arrival and so she strode towards the reception area and greeted the Minister with a gentle and amiable smile, "Minister, good t'see you're well," Delilah gestured a hand behind her before she loosely cupped her hands together with a light nod, "Shall we?"

Delilah then turned and led the way out of the reception area and into one of the halls in the Artifact Accidents floor, before she finally led Zephyr and her entourage into one of the offices. Whether it was an office or a patient room, St. Mungo's charmed, enchanted, and was built around catering to absolute privacy. So, once Delilah closed the door she did not hesitate to begin the conversation, "Now, your concerns?"

Instead of moving to sit behind the desk in a corner of the room, Delilah lowered herself onto a comfortable chair that rested in a circle of two couches and two other unoccupied chairs. She then raised her head towards one of the other seats, "Please, sit."

Delilah watched the man pull of his shirt, noting the movement of his body and the scratches of discoloration that plagued his skin. He had excellent muscle tonality, and it meshed well over his broad frame,  but his body had obviously gone through the wear and tear of time, though he was still an excellent specimen.

"Pretty, I'm not in a rut about," she uncurled her fingers as she waved her hand as she stood up from her seat with her glassy picks poised between her fingers. A dark and ritical half-lidded stare fell over his chest as she moved the toothpicks over the design, ready to move at her whim.

Then a "Tch" escaped her lips as part of the tattoo appeared and she lightly pressed the toothpick against it--at its touch, a chilly frost breathed over the tattoo and it stopped moving. She then continued that with the rest of the design before she stood back to inspect the thing. She leaned in again and, this time, hooked the toothpick under the topmost layer of the man's skin--but what happened next would feel like she was pulling a ghostly string from him; part of the tattoo had come off the man's chest, as if it were taffy, with the toothpick hooked in it like it were a knitting needle.

Delilah hummed a few tunes from one of her children's various wrock band records as she began to move, pull, and connect the tattoo together, to what seemed right. It didn't need to be perfect, it just needed to be in some semblance of what it once was. As she began to work the last bits together she leaned back and squinted at the frost that was now draping across the man's torso, "Am I piecing 'di right parts together? Need a mirror?" she finished the piece of tattoo she was working on before she let her tone float like a carefree breeze, "It's pretty harmless in 'dis state if you're worried 'bout anyt'ing."

"Dark Arts tattoos? Not at Mungo's no," she answered Dietrich with a small smile, as she opened her wicker black purse for Dwet to crawl into. Her arm then hugged against her chest with its hand turned out so that she could rest her elbow in it. She turned her dark stare towards Dietrich as she let her hand limply curl next to her cheek as the muffled rummaging noises in her bag continued,"Tribal or ritualistic tattoos I'm more for familiar wit', but 'dey usually aren't anyt'ing permanent," the witch seemed completely unperturbed by her inexperience in the matter of Dietrich's work, then the hand climbed out of the bag and placed a small bottle of a jellyfish in her curled palm.

The healer glanced at it, raised an eyebrow, and then lowered her chin towards the silver hand, "No," she firmly said before handing the bottle back to the hand, who took it and then retreated back into the recesses of her wicker purse.

She turned her gaze toward Dietrich again as she unfolded her arm from her chest and and pointed at the man's torso, "But let's take a look at it," Dwet then crawled out of her purse and put a few icy toothpicks in her hands. She pinched them between her finger and then nodded towards Dietrich with an indifferent shrug, "Pull your shirt off."

The Devil's Snare did it's work marvelously on Charlotte, and as Delilah's fingers ran dry, Dwet brought over another saucer of the mixture for her to wet her fingers with again as she worked her way up to the younger witch's ankle.

After the Quidditch query, Delilah answered with a subdued but rich amusement, "One is." A soft smile touched Delilah's lips as she then worked her thumbs up Charlotte's calves and around her knee joint. "Another is in his own freelance business, works wit' Torquil some days--he's still young you know. Doesn't quite know what he wants, but isn't afraid to go after somet'ing."

The older witch then worked her hands down the side of Charlotte's calves and joints, before she stopped and maneuvered herself to pull on one of Charlotte's feet, "'Di other is off enjoying a life of dragons and dangerous menagerie of creatures."

Then Delilah pulled the witch's foot back, and slowly and gradually bent the witch's cream-colored legs at her knee, "Now,"  Delilah's words came out slowly and precise, still with a touch of her Jamaican lilt, "inhale deeply," the witch paid attention to the resistance in Charlotte's legs as she pulled the foot back more, "and exhale."

"Sounds like you're 'dat 'fun' aunt, and a dragon?" Delilah's thumbs then creeped around Charlotte's ankle, pushing and rubbing it before her fingers began to rotate it,  "What kind?"

With her tight dreadlocks trailing down her back, Delilah strolled into the room, her hand still on Dwet, the door handle of the moment, as she gave Dietrich a soft smile, "Of course," her accent swung from her throat as she let go of the door. The silver door handle suddenly twitched and came alive as it crawled up Delilah's arm and onto her shoulder as she wove her arms together and regarded Dietrich, with her black straw bag hanging from one hand

"I'm glad your still are in good health," Dwet lifted its forefinger to wave at the man as the tall witch lowered herself down in a seat next to the blonde, "Besides your persistent companion, of course."

She crossed her legs and turned a slim hand out towards Dietrich, with an inquiring twitch of her eyebrows, "Has any other symptoms cropped up?"

A dark brow rose into a high arch as a smile pinched to corner of her lips,"Other than irritability?"

Delilah paid close attention to Charlotte's body, every muscle twitch or odd moment she favored shifting her weight to one part of the body over the other as Delilah began to massage her thumbs around and into Charlotte's other hand, "Will has nothing to do wit' it, dear." The witch's dark-skinned hands then grasped Charlotte's wrists and rubbed and stretched them, "Is all about understanding what you want, what you need, and what he wants, and what he needs--" The healer dipped her fingers in the oil again as she worked her way up the socialite's slender arms and back up to her shoulders, "and how to deal wit' it."

After firmly dragging her hands down Charlotte's back, Delilah rolled to the witch's side and grabbed her by the waist, pulling her up into a cat pose as her lilting voice casually responded to the question of children, "Five. First four were boys, last was a girl." She massaged Charlotte's sides between her fingers and thumbs, letting the devil's snare ease away any ideas that her stomach might have to undergo such a trial anytime soon. It was an answer most young witches reacted hesitantly too, and she hardly thought Charlotte was any different, as much as she'd like to hide the idea.

"Di youngest two are still in school--Ravenclaw and Slytherin. The older ones were Gryffindor," the mischievous smile crawling across the woman's face could be heard in her milky tone, "If you weren't taken, you could get away with dating them."

Delilah then stood up and held Charlotte's torso as she pushed and gently pulled her down on her stomach, stretching her back in the process. “Though, I was always ready for children though--my family ingrained everyone wit’ values and skills 'dat made... unexpected situations easier to deal wit'," Delilah's fingers were dipped into the oil again as she worked her thumb between Charlotte's shoulder blades and around her spine, "And if you aren't already skilled at it, kids make a woman a master at multitasking.”

A smile peered between Delilah's lips again as she moved from Charlotte's back, to her waist, and then firmly dragged her fingers down the girl's legs, as she did with her arms, until Delilah was massaging Charlotte's dainty feet, “But every family's got ‘dem people who can take t’ings in their stride, and people who aren’t entirely read for it,” Delilah worked her thumbs into the insteps of the feet, over the balls of the foot, and then towards the outer edge of them, “Th’ difference between a dragon and an erumpet.”

Finally, Delilah moved her hand to focus on only one foot, targeting the back and torso with reflexology again, “A relationship would never thrive ‘less one was ‘di former—which do you imagine yourself being?”

When Charlotte gave an answer about her stress, Delilah arched an eyebrow, noting the hesitation of her words. She supposed she could pry a proper answer out on her own, but that wasn't really necessary. As long as she stay tuned into Charlotte's emotions, Delilah was sure she didn't need any information revealed to her; it was more important that she be aware of Charlotte's needs. Besides, a massage could do wonders for extracting information--relaxation was a powerful tool.

Once Charlotte went onto explain her and Felix's time spent together, Delilah's mouth pressed into a smirk, "Living in 'di same house and being in 'di same one are two totally different t'ings, dear," the witch finished spinning the mixture of oils in her saucer and then tapped its bottom a few times. It immediately started to float, and then the healer did the same to her other semi-filled saucers, "Sit on your knees, now."

The tall Jamaican rolled onto her own knees, shoo-ing Dwèt and its game away with a flick of her hand before she dipped her fingertips into the massage oil. The silver hand cleaned up its mess and deposited it into Delilah's ebony purse as Delilah began to rub her thumbs into Charlotte's shoulders. She then firmly tightened her fingers around the witch's arms and firmly dragged dragged her fingers down to the witch's hands and grasped them as she rubbed her thumbs into Charlotte's palms.

"Twenty years, about." Delilah finally answered as she pushed herself up from the floor and pulled Charlotte's arms above her head. As the devil's snare was absorbed into her skin and, gradually, into her muscles it was important to stretch and move her body to work with the magical oils, "We've had our fair share of furniture fights," possibly more literal fights than metaphorical ones, but Charlotte didn't need to know that. Tough love ran in the family, "But when you marry an artificer he has a tendency to make or turn everyt'ing into what he wants--always a losing battle." Delilah took a few steps back and pulled Charlotte's arms onto the mat in front of her, also pulling the girl into a kneeling position. The healer then began to slowly massage her shoulders and arms a she worked her way back down to the girl's hands.

"But we had kids 'fore we wed, so 'dey usually came  first," a humorous tune lingered in her lilt, "Childproofing."

Delilah finally got down to one of Charlotte's hands and focused on the wrist, knuckles, and palms--a reflexology technique for tapping into the back, "When we moved to Ireland we built our own house to suit our needs," with Delilah's ebony purse in tow, Dwèt tip-toed next to Delilah obediently waiting for anything else she might need a hand with, (while possibly being rather jealous of Charlotte), "It helped that Torquil has a few clients and colleagues in architecture business..." Delilah then focused on the upper palms as she clicked her tongue against her teeth, "Hmn, your hands a little stiff."

As Charlotte turned the saucer over to only an empty spot on the mat Dwèt flattened against the mat and patted it happily, before it began to move the saucers around again while Charlotte still held one between her dainty fingers.

"Ah for 'di snare you really 'ave must built it yourself," Delilah's thick lips twitched into her soft smile as she reached over to grab one of the saucers, but Dwèt pushed her hand towards another one, and Delilah obediently picked it up--empty--before she moved her hand to grab another saucer, but Dwèt was quick to pass her two more empty ones, once it realized Delilah was taking more than one familiar with her routine for mixing oils and balms. However, the hand was not terribly familiar with playing its own games with the saucers.

Once it settled its palm back on the mat as pivoted its fingers around the one saucer that was left and then it began to grumpily tap a finger against the mat as the silver hand acknowledged its folly.

Delilah arched an eyebrow up at Dwèt and then closed her dark eyes and shook her head, "Is it physical stress or mental stress dear?" Delilah returned a relaxed gaze to Charlotte before her eyes quickly and critically roamed Charlotte's body and analyzed it for any signs of fatigue, stress, or bruising, even if Charlotte may have been acting more of a manager than a laborer in her "house-building" role.

As she placed the saucers in front of her and poured the oil of devil snare into one of them, Delilah's dark eyes returned to meet the other witch's, "Sharing a home does require a few sacrifices as well, and breaking and making boundaries," especially when two traditions and cultures might clash between wizards of different blood purities, of course, it could be said of Charlotte St. James that she had a culture all her own.

Delilah then filled the other two saucers only with some oil, and then carefully poured ten drops of each into the snare oil, "But putting a home together does take a toll on 'di feet and back at times," the witch then took the saucer between her fingers and gently moved it back and forth as the liquids spun and twisted together in the saucer, "and sometimes 'di obsession takes somet'ing from your sleep schedule."

Young, impulsive, beautiful, and wealthy--Charlotte St. James was a witch who hadn't found what she wanted out of life yet, but always knew what she wanted for herself; today she wanted a massage.

After receiving the witch's owl, Delilah scheduled some time to spend a bit of her day with the girl. It was a the best plan in order to give any patient or client the proper attention in case any needs or nasty health issues needed to be catered to, but judging by Charlotte's letter the issue was hardly urgent--at least in that sense; the girl was completely capable of having a personal crisis.

Delilah arrived dressed in cropped yoga pants, a tight tank top, and sandals, (having no qualms with letting her clothes hug her curves in case she would be moving around a lot) and her braided bangs were twisted and fastened behind her head in a secure french braid, to keep her hair tame and as immobile as possible. Dwèt was perched on her shoulder of course, drumming its fingers as Charlotte decided on what she wanted while Delilah gave the girl a quick physical. After a few suggestions and the impatient tapping of the disembodied silver hand, they had decided on a yoga massage.

Dwèt happily crawled up onto a wall and affixed itself to the surface as a door handle, as Delilah pushed the door open and ushered the St. James sister into one of her MetisShot shops; a dark room with a large light mat on the floor, a  bath in the corner, and a changing room to the side with a magical wall of glass.

Delilah crossed her legs and seated herself on the mat cross-legged and perfectly poised as sat her black purse in her lap and began to pull out bottles of oils while Dwèt crawled into her bag and removed her little brown and orange stylized saucers and a hazelnut. Delilah was of course going to use the saucers, but not in the same way the silver hand was;  Dwèt flipped the saucers over, hiding the hazelnut beneath one of them and then moved them around and switched their places with each other, before it gestured for Charlotte to guess where the hazel nut went.

"Are you in 'di mood for somet'ing specific?' Delilah asked in her heavy lilt as she dangled the oils between her slim fingers, "I can make a new oil for you or use an older recipe," She looked from the bottles to Charlotte and then quirked a dark eyebrow, "D'you want your base t' be devil snare, mandrake, or umbrella flower seed oil?"