Post by Andromeda Black on Aug 25, 2012 23:09:19 GMT -5
what are we waiting for?
Justice. Will. Be. Served.
The newest headline of the newest front page of the newest issue of the Daily Prophet. Profound proclamations of justice; a word that Andromeda Black did not fully comprehend. After all, it meant something different to everyone, didn’t it? Justice. THE word. THE thought. THE philosophy. “What’s real justice, anyway?" Andromeda mumbled. For every action a [re]action, you reap what you sow, the consequence of your actions. YOUR actions. To. Be. Held. (A)CCOUNTABLE. Pay the bloody PRICE and fill your SENTENCE (&punctuate). A balancig act: So then: the question, THE question, because it is not a QUESTION of IF you should be punished, but HOW, how my dear Watson? [Re]tribution? (To satisfy the offended party, of course). [De]terrence? (Strike FEAR in the offender and everyone else; do not do this or ELSE). [Re]habilitation? (Reform! You know not what you do, what you've |done|) [In]capacitation? (Rendered incapable, protect society). [Re]paration? (Repay, repay, repay your debts & compensate). [De]nunciation? (We. Do. Not. Approve.). Or, of course, of course, death. The ultimate price to p a y.
And the Ministry absolutely must promise payment to those who had lost so mucheverything. One ankle crosses casually behind the other, socks smooth against her skin. Not a hair out of place, not a crease in the uniform, not a trace of the thoughts (&feelings) on her face. Just another piece of the scenery, cool in the morning air. Folding the paper neatly in her hands, Andromeda glanced down at the river below, carefully leaning against the railing of the bridge. An odd way to convey a providing justice though, wasn’t it? Serving. As if it were a commodity, something to be bought&sold (and served). Place it on a platter, silver would be best, but bronze will do, and offer it up to the oh-so-hungry masses to devour and beg for more. Almost insulting. No. It was insulting. Andromeda felt insulted.
Fingers clutched at the paper, c R i N k L i N g the edges, b l u r r i n g the words, just here and there, mostly there. For a moment she just want to … to … set it on fire (slash & burn). Let it be nothing more than ashes.Dust to dust. Teeth bit down along the line of her lip, the feeling slowly fading. No, no. It was not the paper that disturbed her so, after all. Not even the ill choice of words (although, quite frankly, the sentence struck a n e r v e). It was everything behind it; the underlying connotations. What it MEANT… for her. Brushing the bangs from her eyes, she peered back down at the water, surface still and unmarred; clear to the pebbled bottom. U n c l o u d e d. Justice, she supposed, gave people purpose. And people desperately needed purpose. Even if, misguided. The need for CONVICTION of the CONVICTED. And she? Andromeda could not say with any certainty that she had any purpose; feeling aimless, wandering vagabond, unable to make even the slightest of difference (detention!). Broken compass. North, north, north, which way was north? In need of direction.If you don’t know where you’re going, it doesn’t matter which way you go.
Once, she mentioned these thoughts to someone. In passing, of course. Shouldn’t have said anything at all, didn’t she know better, she certainly knew better. And they told her--That's gloomy. Pause. And ridiculous. Summed up all her thoughts&feelings (oh the feelings) into two short statements: two[2] adjectives. Gloomy. And oh yes, don't forget, ridiculous. Off in the distance, Andromeda caught the sound of a bell ring, ring, ringing, the sound r e s o n a t i n g in the air, in her chest, in her heart. Clear as a bell. Gloom. And. Doom. Doom, doom, doom, whom. For whom the bell tolls--. Shoulders slumped uncharacteristically, as for a moment she allowed her muscles to relax, the usual tension smoothing out beneath her skin, bones loose beneath the fiber. Ring, ring, ring. "Yes, yes. I hear you." For whom the bell tolls. That's it, isn't it? That's the saying? That's all? [Un]finished, wasn't it? The bell tolls for WHOM? For WHOM is that bloody bell tolling? B e l l taking its t o l l.
Classes starting. Not that she had class in the morning. Just patrol. Best get to it, then.
OPEN <3
