Responsibility/character development/Ffording the BAY

[carolynwhite2]

Kelly:
Regarding post 33533, which you asked me to review, I was holding off 
on this one to see if "Blame and Responsibility" might require a 
category of its own. Did we decide no?

Carolyn:
I think this question got lost, sorry, my fault. I have added:
1.1.1.5.3 Responsibility
as a sub-category of morality/immorality. Hope this helps.


Anne:
<snip>
On further thought, "believablility/exaggeration" is probably much 
too specific. Maybe something like "effectiveness of character
development"... I don't know, I can't think when I can't breathe!
Something that can hold both definitions of change from the quoted
post, anyway. No?

And as you may have noticed, this post (#36000) is the last in my
batch. I'm coding it up as you suggested, so I'm ready for some more.

Carolyn:
Ok, take your point. I have added:
1.4.1 Character development
(and re-numbered the previous category to keep these two together at 
the top of this section).

Here's a new allocation: 37251-37350

(you are all catching this cold off each other at that pub, y'know...)



>>Debbie, still at the doorway, shuts the door behind
her before stopping by the coat rack for a pair of FEATHERBOAS,
which she drapes over her shoulders as she rummages through the
basket looking for her long-lost FLIRTIAC badge. The Captain gives
her a questioning look. Debbie shrugs and mumbles, "I didn't like
the 12-step program anyway." Finally, she settles in an armchair to
finish her latest assignment.

After an hour's hard work, and after deciding that a post about
Ron's treatment of Scabbers could not be coded to "Pettigrew", she
approaches the Captain's desk. "I'm finished," she whispers, to
avoid disturbing the other cataloguers. "I need more posts. And I
need to sharpen my hatchet. It's not cutting very well."

Debbie
back on the road to TBAY perdition<<


Carolyn looks up as the repentent Elf approaches, and Debbie is 
startled to see that what she took to be dress whites is nothing of 
the kind. Instead..she looks in disbelief at the yellowing, torn 
lace, scuffed satin slippers and tarnished jewellry. 'Miss 
Haversham?' she whispers..'but *which* Miss Haversham?' In the strong 
winter sunshine streaming through the window, it is difficult to tell 
who or what is real in this virtual world.

'A final mission...I had a word with the Chronoguard. It seemed an 
emergency situation. Valuable plot devices, powerful theories and 
lost dialogue all over the place. At this stage, unfortunately we 
can't save many lives, but a search-and-retrieve operation is 
bringing in the bodies. At least relatives and friends will have a 
chance to grieve and move on.'

She gave a final polish to Elkin's SYCOPHANT badge, and put it 
carefully away in a box on her desk. Beside her on the floor was a 
sea-chest full of salt-stained pirate outfits, rusting cutlasses and 
Captain's hats. On the wall hung a huge paddle.

'I understand you are a survivor?' she said, eyeing the tangled pink 
and brown FEATHERBOAS. Debbie whispered something incoherent, her 
eyes darting to the door. There was a heavy step on the stairs; 
somewhere on the top floor a door banged.

'Well, stronger people than yourself have succumbed to the Control 
Centre...a regular daily dose of old posts will set you up in no 
time.'  She scrawled a new prescription with her gnarled old hands on 
a bit of parchment: 37351 - 37450. 

'Must go....lunch in Muggleland beckons.' Cramming an out-dated tiara 
on her head, Miss Carolyn Haversham whisked out the office. Debbie 
watched in astonishment as, with an agility that belied her years and 
strange assortment of garments, the old crone leapt on a giant 
motorbike and roared out of sight, spraying mud and filthy water all 
over a righteous crowd protesting against the use of runes in the 
Potterverse, indeed in any books. 

She turned to go. At least it explained where Sirius's bike had gone.