the jeweler's hands PV Closed

James sauntered down the gravel path, breathing in the fresh smells of pine needles and cut grass. The air was still crisp with the icy chill of winter and James hugged his jacket around him more tightly.

He shivered slightly, the built up tension from the last few months of tumult still clung to his muscles like lactic acid. After Savannah and the fire and his birthday, he relished the break. There hadn’t been much opportunity the just goof off with his friends outside the context of the Order.

He spotted his friend hanging upside down from the thick branch of an old oak, and James came jogging up to him exited to finally get some alone time with his best friend.

“Ok so I managed to snag a bunch of sausage rolls and pasties from lunch today... plus some pumpkin juice and I’ve got some Bert...” James paused, scanning the length of his friend, and the state of his new attire. Jewellery clung to him as if he were a dragon’s hoard.

James let out a snort of laughter, “What are you wearing?! Have you decided to drop Wizarding and take up a new career as a pimp?” He laughed again but was cut short as he saw what hung lazily from the boy’s mouth....

“What the hell dude!? Is that a cigarette... do you want to get expelled!?!” James said, hurriedly trying to grab it from Gem’s mouth.

@James McMurtrie

Amused, Gem watched the series of emotions that crossed James' facial expressions and tone, lifting his eyebrows at the unfolding of discovery. Truth told, he'd rather watch James have those kinds of reactions every day than read the paper or watch some muggle television show.

"Right, first of all - fook off, I happen to think that these rings and bracelets have a satisfying jingle to them," he shook his wrists as a demonstration, and surely enough, the beads clicked together and made a somewhat calming noise, not that they'd be used for any Zen purposes or whatever. "Second of all, maybeh I am! I've given up school life. Say, James, would you like to be one of me clients? Or... perhaps, joost maybe, an employee? They'd eat up that cutesy face of yers," He reached over, pinching his friend's cheek similarly to that of a grandmother.

When James reached for his cigarette, however, that's when he turned the pinching into pushing his face back, hopefully to prevent any sort of snatching.

"Aye, don't be a nark! I've been doin' this fer literal months," He quickly pulled himself up, landing himself on his feet again. "Don't knock it till' you've tried it. Don't disrepect yer wife, either, James, you know that's a sin." He wagged his finger in his face, speaking out the side of his mouth. "Anyway, what'd you git us, huh? Bertie Bott's?" He sat himself down on the ground, his back leaned back against the tree.

"You know, James, I've been doin' a lot of thinking, and I firmly believe that in me past life, I wos a tree. You know why? I'm afraid of axes an' chainsaws. Leland said that, whatever yer deathly afraid of is how ya died in a past life. I'm a tree, ya hear that?" He was joking, but for the most part, he was attempting to sway the conversation over to something that wasn't his taste for nicotine.

“You’d make an excellent tree,” James chuckled, sliding down the trunk of the old oak and sitting cross-legged at it’s base, “I could see you as like a massive Weeping Willow, just swaying on the side of a lake... plus all your branches would be adorned with loads of trashy jingly-jangly rings and shit.” James poked his friend in the ribs.
“As for me... my greatest fear is that something horrible’ll happen to the people I love... like my parents get zapped by Savannah coming back to take revenge, or one of you gets hurt the next time one of these Hogwarts Balls sets fire, or my best friend will prematurely die of lung cancer because he’s a fucking idiot,” James gave Gem a pointed look and the returned his gaze to the hoard of snacks strewn across his lap, “So I dunno, maybe my past life I was unbelievably steeped in tragedy... or maybe I’m just packed full of neuroses on account of growing up in a Brexit-era London- that’s what my Grandpa reckons anyway.”

He fished into the box of Jelly-Beans and produced a greyish lump, perhaps the most unappetising colour James was yet to see.

“I’ve been trying to figure out what flavour this one is. I’m betting 50/50 odds on it either tasting of bellybutton lint or wanton despair.”

@James McMurtrie

"...or my best friend will prematurely die of lung cancer because he’s a fucking idiot,”

"Language James-!" Gem gasped, his hand hitting his chest with a small thump. "You know they probableh have spells for this kind ov thing, right? I don't think cancer's a big problem fer me, not in the wizardin' world. Get wiv it, James!! The future is now!" He turned around, shaking his friend's shoulders momentarily.

"Ew," Gem murmured, staring at the unappetizingly colored bean between James' fingers. "Ehm... well, I suppose I don't have much to lose, might as well?" He took it from his friend's hold, looking at him with the same expression a soldier going to war would give his sobbing wife. "It has been excellent knowin' you, James." With that said, he popped the bean in his mouth and chewed.

His expressions were a bit of a flurry, first inquisitiveness, then slower chewing, and then upset and disgust. Quickly, he spat the bean out and replaced the emptiness in his mouth back with a cigarette, lifting his hands up to his chest, curling his fingers.

"Fook, mate," He breathed, rubbing his forehead. "That wos... ehm, belly button lint. Never thought I'd have to identify that before." How did he even know what belly button lint would taste like? It was instinct, because he was pretty sure that despair wouldn’t taste like that– or, he hoped it wouldn’t. Maybe it’s just be so depressing that it didn’t taste like anything, but what would he know? He’d had more jellybeans than he could count, especially when he was bored. He couldn’t even remember his own birthday, much less what despair would’ve tasted like.

OOC: this situation kind of reminded me of this video LMAO

“Do you think it’s bad if I hope that wizards don’t have a cure for cancer,” he said as Gem swallowed the bean and began to gag. James’ face fell, he didn’t much feel the desire to mess around right now. His mind was on his argument with Savannah again... “Half. Half of all Muggles contract cancer in some form. My Uncle had it. My Gran died of it... thousands of people around the world working to find a cure... ‘curing cancer’ is basically shorthand in the Muggle world for the best thing somebody can do. So if wizards have been... all this time- they’ve literally been sitting on the cure for cancer- and they’ve kept it from the rest of the world then - I don’t know what I’d do...”

James refrained from making eye contact with his friend, quietly picking at blades of grass as crimson blood filled his cheeks.

He hated that he’d so quickly turned the conversation sour. He remembered as his Grandmother lay in her hospital bed, and he wished for a miracle, the thought that a wizard could have swooped in and saved her- that there really may have been a miracle cure out there - withheld from her over a crime committed centuries ago by Muggles she never knew... it burned inside the boy like a solitary coal, glowing in a furnace.

@James McMurtrie

The sudden change in subject stilled Gem, his eyes getting all wide. He decided to just listen for now, lean back against the tree and take another bean from the stash - blackberry, he hadn't tasted that in a hot minute.

"I bet muggles have found a cure fer cancer," He said, "but doesn't yer government profit off all that treatment stoof? I heard somethin' about it, me dad told me there wos a cure fer cancer and they totally killed the person who discovered it. Joost obliterated em', I bet it happened a bunch of times." He chewed the inside of his cheek, looking down at the grass.

"I'm against keepin' magic withheld from muggles as e' next chap, but it isn't like..." He pressed his lips together, fumbling with his fingers to keep himself from shaking. "I... I'm a bit scared ov em, you know? Not them individually, I think they're beautiful, right, but... sometimes, their... herd mindsets scare me. The... hatecrimes, you know? They'll see somethin' they don't understand - some ov em' - and if they can't have it? The... some ov em will resort to hurt." His voice was quiet, timid.

"You remember Leland, right? He's e' biggest fan ov muggles I've ever seen. Loves em' like they're his children, but... that didn't protect him from gettin' run up by muggles who didn't like that he wos into the same sex, right?" He sniffed, "What if that happens ta me, you know? That wasn't a problem here, inni' wizarding world, but out there? You know? I- I'm not... like you, I don't only like g-" He exhaled, offering a half-smile at his friend. "Wot I'm gettin' at, is that... if we do introduce magic to e' muggle world, whether it be fer medical reasons or joost for fun, we should do it with caution."

James met Gem’s eyes squarely as he spoke, he understood the concern of his friend, but he still felt discomfort with his fear... and when Gem shifted the conversation to sexuality, James softened a little

“I mean... I don’t want to claim that I get it- I’m only sort of just now learning what it is the be hated for- nothing more than the circumstances of my birth- and it hurts... it hurts a whole lot- but like- that warped thinking— it’s not just a Muggle thing. You seriously can’t think that... not after the Ball, not after my birthday- not after Voldemort.” he got to his feet and began to pace in frustration, “It’s like... sometimes I feel like wizards attribute prejudice to Muggles alone- but it’s not non-magic folk who hate... it’s human beings... and I don’t think our skills in the arcane make us any different... but as long as we keep our worlds seperate that’s what we’re saying- We’re saying that Muggles are inherently different to us- that something about being non magical makes them inherently dangerous... that my Mum and Dad- some of the best people I know are dangerous- what because they can’t cast a spell? Because of that they don’t get to be a part of any of this!? They don’t get to benefit from our skills in food production and transportation and medicine- because they weren’t born with some special gene!? That’s fucked Gem... that’s seriously fucked... Of course we’d need to be careful but that’s no reason to do nothing!”

James kicked a at the dirt unable to direct his anger anywhere else. Boiling blood rose to his cheeks.

“Y’know, my Mum worked with this kid, his name was Jason. He was in foster care because when he was a baby his Dad got fucked up on meth and broke both his hands. The surgery is really finicky, so they were never able to fully heal. The kid could barely grasp a cup, he couldn’t write, could barely wipe his arse on his own... he flunked out of school and now he lives in Council Housing- watching the fucking Chase and wondering where it all went wrong. Last week I saw a kid break her hand at Quidditch and the nurse used a potion to set it right in four days... four days. Does nobody else think that’s seriously wrong!?”

@James McMurtrie

This must've been how his parents felt whenever Gem started to go on about human politics.

With his head hung low, Gem reluctantly heard James out. He exhaled another cheekful of smoke, his elbow resting in his lap, chin in his palm. He agreed with James, one hundred percent, and as much as he liked to think of things that were crazy... there was no way something like that would get past the ministry. He'd protest with his best friend if he needed, he'd be at his side till' death, but golly, that seemed like they'd be biting off more than they could chew.

"I don't realleh have an answer for you, mate," He said casually, "I'm on yer side, ya know. Kinda preachin' to the choir... ehm- anyway, ov course it's wrong, but we've got ta find a way to... merge it well, I s'ppose. We can't joost force magic onn'em out ov nowhere, that'll scare em' right." He shifted, tucking some more hair behind his ear. "I... I know some ov me dad's friends know about it, but they don't really bring it up, er' go around askin', but I mean... they're cool. A lot ov muggles 're cool, but some ov em' aren't, joost like wizards."

"You've got ta consider the bad wizards, too. I know ya do, but... erhm, I guess wot I mean is... ah, if we expand freedom out ta muggles to know about magic, there will be... repercussions, I guess? They'll get murdered, there'll be another war, an'... countless people will be lost."

"I dunno... I'm on yer side, though. Realleh, I am. I'm joost... considerin' possibilities. You know the shite nihilist I can be." He ended the sentence with a grin, hoping it'd be enough to put the conversation to rest.