Wesley Wyndam-Pryce (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
prodigalwatcher) wrote2008-10-09 02:20 pm
prodigalwatcher) wrote2008-10-09 02:20 pm
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theatrical_muse] 250 - Write page 57 of your 300 page autobiog
250 - Write page 57 of your 300-page autobiography
...reluctant, but Mother was insistent. "If he's going to take up the family business, Roger, it's about time you took him to the shop." Whenever Mother wanted to down-play the strangeness of the Wyndam-Pryce family's legacy as Watchers, that was how she referred to it: "the family business". So, the next morning, Father ensured that I had been dressed in my very best uniform clothes, bundled me in the back seat of his Anglia and drove into London.
I'd been to the city before, of course. There had been a field trip or two with school to the usual museums, and every now and then, Mother would require my presence to make sure that clothes or furniture or what have you would be appropriate. But we were traveling to Father's domain: the Watchers Council Headquarters.
A great, sturdy brick-faced edifice, the building had no doubt been constructed around the turn of the Twentieth Century, directly atop the spot the previous Council building had stood. The Watchers hold the deed to that land in perpetuity and the wards and spells guarding and protecting the area are of such vast complexity that relocating headquarters would prove to be dauntingly difficult.
An unknowing visitor to the above-ground floors of the Council HQ would have difficulty telling the place from a modern place of business. The various floors were loosely arranged to keep various internal departments grouped physically together. Many doors featured names and numbers lettered onto frosted glass, with the departments noted only by a code number, rather than name. This was, naturally, as intended. No one wanted a hapless messenger to get lost on his way back from the loo and see doors marked "Demonic Studies" and "Mystical Research".
Father was greeted with businesslike nods and the occasional friendly smile. I'd already known from visitors to the house that Roger Wyndam-Pryce was a well-respected and even liked member of the Watchers, one likely to be exceptionally close to being called to the Council itself. I was treated as a child is always treated in those situations, though both my father and I were grateful that he commanded enough respect that my hair remained un-mussed.
His office was on the sixth floor, next to...
(376)
...reluctant, but Mother was insistent. "If he's going to take up the family business, Roger, it's about time you took him to the shop." Whenever Mother wanted to down-play the strangeness of the Wyndam-Pryce family's legacy as Watchers, that was how she referred to it: "the family business". So, the next morning, Father ensured that I had been dressed in my very best uniform clothes, bundled me in the back seat of his Anglia and drove into London.
I'd been to the city before, of course. There had been a field trip or two with school to the usual museums, and every now and then, Mother would require my presence to make sure that clothes or furniture or what have you would be appropriate. But we were traveling to Father's domain: the Watchers Council Headquarters.
A great, sturdy brick-faced edifice, the building had no doubt been constructed around the turn of the Twentieth Century, directly atop the spot the previous Council building had stood. The Watchers hold the deed to that land in perpetuity and the wards and spells guarding and protecting the area are of such vast complexity that relocating headquarters would prove to be dauntingly difficult.
An unknowing visitor to the above-ground floors of the Council HQ would have difficulty telling the place from a modern place of business. The various floors were loosely arranged to keep various internal departments grouped physically together. Many doors featured names and numbers lettered onto frosted glass, with the departments noted only by a code number, rather than name. This was, naturally, as intended. No one wanted a hapless messenger to get lost on his way back from the loo and see doors marked "Demonic Studies" and "Mystical Research".
Father was greeted with businesslike nods and the occasional friendly smile. I'd already known from visitors to the house that Roger Wyndam-Pryce was a well-respected and even liked member of the Watchers, one likely to be exceptionally close to being called to the Council itself. I was treated as a child is always treated in those situations, though both my father and I were grateful that he commanded enough respect that my hair remained un-mussed.
His office was on the sixth floor, next to...
(376)