"Hello, you have reached the voice mail of Harriet Jones, Dean of Students, Fandom High. Leave your name and number and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Thank you. Oh, and you might want to tell me a bit about why you're calling, just so I'm not completely surprised when I return it."

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[OOC: DISCLAIMER

In creating this journal, the author has assumed the identity of a fictional person for use in the role-playing game fandomhigh, for the sole purpose of entertainment, without intending to obtain a benefit or to injure or defraud either the person who created the fictional person, nor any reader of this content. The author does not purport to be the creator of the fictional person, or to be affiliated with the creator, or with any person or entity with an interest in the fictional person. The author does not claim to be the person who is being used as the graphical representation of that fictional person, nor intend to obtain a benefit or to injure or defraud that person by use of their image.]

It had been a long time since Harriet Jones had woken up with someone. So long, in fact, that she couldn't actually remember the last time.

Had she thought about it, she would not have expected to wake up with someone this morning, especially not this someone. But, much to her surprise, Tony was still with her. More, he was curved around her, one arm draped over her, and by his breathing she thought he was still asleep.

She closed her eyes again. He was warm, this felt good, and soon enough she would have to deal with yesterday and tomorrow. For now, she would simply enjoy the moment.

[ooc: for the other person in the bed (and I never thought I'd be writing that) who was modded with permission.]

Quietly, calmly, Harriet made tea and used it to down two analgesics. As they took effect, she sat down at her desk, looking at the paperwork stacked neatly on it. Some of it was clawed, and she touched the class lists with one finger.

The Sarah Kerrigan she had known and loved was dead. There was nothing she could do but mourn her loss.

But there was something else. Something that had crystallised as she'd stared at the Doctor. Even with everything between them, he had been her first thought. Her first, and last, hope. Even with everything, her faith in his ability remained unshakeable, something she hadn't known until tonight.

With steady fingers, she set the device he'd given her on the desk.

She had left London to return to Flydale North after the No Confidence vote. She had left Flydale North for here. But she had never left England behind and, she realised, sitting up straighter, she had never left her responsibilities behind.

She had set them aside, but they could never be taken from her. They could only be surrendered, and she had never given them up.

"And I never will," she said, lifting her head. Quietly, calmly, she picked up her pen and began to write.

[ooc: It's open, and Harriet will be here most of the day. It's her last (relatively) public post in Fandom, so if you wanted to talk to her before she leaves on Sunday morning, this is it!]

Harriet woke to pain. A dull throbbing in her back, in her neck, and a sharp ache in her heart.

It didn't matter. None of it mattered.

Kerrigan would be gone by now. She'd failed, hadn't been able to stop her, but she'd be damned if she would give in without a fight.

Mouth set, eyes determined, she stalked through the streets of Fandom. There was one person who could help, and he would help, if she had to tear down the world to make him.

[ooc: NFI, fine for B!]

Harriet had crept in late last night, still a cougar - which, granted, had made the creeping easier - and curled up on the couch under a blanket.

The couch which seemed a lot smaller this morning. And there was something heavy pinning her down.

She opened one eye to find Mustang eyeing her balefully from her stomach. "I could have eaten you with one bite, you know," she told him. He blinked at her, unimpressed. "I also seem to be somewhat lacking in clothes." Thankfully the aforementioned blanket could be made to serve, once the cat was dislodged, and she wrapped it around herself, sari style.

[ooc: Open for any of her fellow residents, with a SP proviso in effect.]

A week's break for the students meant a week's hard work for the faculty. This was why Harriet was in her office, diligently going through her paperwork.

Though pawing through her paperwork would be a more accurate description.

Seeing as she was a cougar.

With an irritated growl, she shook her paw, trying to get the class lists off her claws.

The vice-principal was a big cat, and she hadn't had any tea. This wouldn't be a good day to irritate her.

[ooc: so very open, should anyone happen by. (Pings will be collected in the morning cause I sleep now).]

It was, no matter how strange it seemed to Harriet, a date. Not that she was quite sure how it happened.

And given that it was a date (and she also wasn't sure when she'd last had one of those, now that she thought about it), and her current position in the school, going off the island had seemed the thing to do.

"Is there a reason it's the International House of Pancakes," she asked as she took her seat, looking around bemusedly. "They are only in America."

[ooc: For that sometimes shiny guy, and NFB for distance. Up early for zee timezones.]

Harriet was sitting on the deck, drinking her tea and watching Mustang (the cat) hunt something brown and skittery.

Make that somethings brown and skittery, she mentally corrected, as several more of them landed on the deck, then scattered as Mustang pounced.

Her nose wrinkled in distaste as she realised what they looked like. Cockroaches. Only bigger. Much bigger.

At least they were keeping Mustang entertained.

[ooc: primarily for one, but open to all, and I didn't *mean* to spam the flist with horror so early in the FH morning.]

Harriet woke up slowly, as she usually did, and stretched uncomfortably. She felt like she'd fallen asleep in her chair. Not that it would be the first time, though usually she had her head on her desk and not on a pillo--

Memory caught up with her, and she sat up, the blanket and pillow falling to the floor, and looked around for the Doctor, eyes narrowed, face expressionless.

[ooc: TARDIS modded with permission and just for one.


...oh dear.]

Harriet wasn't sulking and she wasn't lurking, and she certainly wasn't sad. She was just wandering around the outside of the big blue box, looking at it closely.

It had nothing to do with the fact that everyone else she'd met today had been mean, and the strange boy in the box had been nice. Sort of nice. He'd made her a sandwich and they'd watched cartoons and it had been fun.

And he had said he was lonely, sort of, so really, if she visited him, she'd be doing a good thing. She hadn't quite convinced herself of that, though, and he might not think so, hence the not lurking.

The TARDIS really was a pretty colour of blue, she decided, as she read the sign on the door.

[ooc: just for the resident of the TARDIS, thank you!]

Harriet woke up nice and early, stretched, and then blinked at her bedroom. Everything was much larger than she was used to. She thought about being scared, then shrugged and decided that it would be better not to. She was eight after all. That was practically a grown up.

Instead, she slid out of bed, carefully made it, then got dressed and wandered out into the kitchen to make tea. Frowning, she stared up at the counter which she couldn't reach, which held the kettle that she couldn't reach and, presumably, the tea she couldn't reach, but she couldn't see it from here.

Luckily there was a chair that was tall enough, so she dragged it over to the counter, carefully climbed up on it, then set about making tea. Tea was how grown ups started their day, and she was very grown up. Her mum said so all the time.

[ooc: can be open for other house dwellers, but in SP as I must sleeeeeep now.]

Harriet had made a phone call and left a message this morning, requesting a certain someone come and see her today.

While she waited, she worked on organising the move to the cabins. There was coffee brewing, and she'd actually stopped at the bakery on her way in, so there were raisin scones, enough that any visitor needn't go hungry.

[ooc: open door for open office hours]

Having sent several small pirates fleeing, Harriet was enjoying her stroll through the town.

It was lovely and clear, cool after the heat of the day, and a chance for her to be alone with her thoughts.

All in all, not a bad way to spend an evening.

[ooc: just for one, please!]

Harriet was having office hours for the first time in quite awhile.

Harriet had also fallen victim to the curse of the day. So far she'd broken a mirror, walked under a ladder, and had her path crossed by a black kitten as she was coming into the school.

She'd also stubbed her toe, inadvertently poured coffee over her keyboard, and had her pen explode and spatter ink all over her white shirt. It was that last which was responsible for the string of muffled (and oddly genteel) curses drifting into the hall.

[ooc: open door, open office, open post!]

Harriet had been off the island yesterday, and she hadn't been alone. She and Mustang had taken a little trip through the portal to Alexandria.

They came back this morning, though Mustang was rather less than he had been. The cat was still a bit groggy and a bit sore, so Harriet took him into the office with her. He was snoozing in his basket, one corner set up for him, while Harriet started preparations for the influx of new students.

She wasn't expecting a letter. She really wasn't expecting this one. ( We regret to inform you. )

Harriet let it fall and stared out the window, eyes bright with unshed tears. So many times she'd had to write that letter; this was the first time she'd ever received one.

[ooc: letter written by the woe-inducing on_her_korhal. Just establishy.]

Harriet was still extremely bemused this morning, and if she tilted her head just right, she could see the Aegean Sea. They were in Greece. The entire island was in Greece.

It was so far past strange, even for this island, it was almost out the other side and into normal. Almost.

Later today, she'd try and find out how to make the ancient computer return the island, or at least, how to find out if was going to stay in Greece. For now, she had coffee, she had a comfortable chair, she had a sunny morning, and she intended to enjoy them.

[ooc: primarily for one, but it's an open lawn!]

Alex (former aide to Prime Minister of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, and, as it had turned out, key player in her fall from both power and grace) was walking down the street towards the Hog and Barrow.

He was texting his girlfriend, and when he finished, she'd be his ex-girlfriend, so he was paying no attention whatsoever to anything around him.

This was shortly going to prove to have been very careless on his part.

It was a pretty typical English pub, of the old school variety: less flashing lights and techno and more dark wood and homebrewed beer.

Oh, and there were two women sitting at a table, as far away from the bar as they could get. It had been a very long, entirely fruitless day, and Harriet was exhausted, emotionally and mentally and physically. Not that she was letting it show.

She looked dubiously at the glass in front of her. "I'm not sure I want to drink something called Winkle's Old Peculiar, no matter how long they've been brewing it for."

Harriet sighed as she hung up the phone.

She'd known people would be reluctant to talk to her, had known she'd probably have to swallow her dignity to get anywhere. What she hadn't expected was that no one would even take her calls.

It was a much different world looking from the outside in. No one wanted to know you if you couldn't do anything for them, and being an ex-Prime Minister, ex by way of a vote of no confidence, who half the country held responsible for the alien 'hoax', held no cachet.