chocolate r srs bznz

(no subject)

Willy had been away for several days, having left only a brief notice that he'd gone to the Nexus. Nothing stating why, or for how long.

When he returned, he seemed ... stranger then usual.

You will need to find the one you love and make sure you can keep loving them for all of your life and past it...

Tricky thing, love. It comes in so many different forms, so many colours, so many ... flavours, if you will. And it's so ... difficult to express. And how does one makes sure one can keep loving the ones one loves? Why... the only way one knows how, really.

It takes days, nights, and days.

The Factory is subtly changed--while the whole place had been reworked walls floors ceilings and everything within to suit the Oompa-Loompas anyway, the place becomes somehow moreso. The signs and text in Loompish, perhaps? Imported plants and animals in the residential area? The sudden increased travel fund in their budget, not to mention the grove of cacao-bean trees over there....

That isn't all. The Buckets find themselves lavished as well--they couldn't possibly need or want for anything, now.

Willy even brings himself to see his father again. The visit ends far too emotionally for either of their comfort, but the compulsion is too strong for the younger Wonka. He has to tell his father that he loves him and always will, even if he stutters and looks at everything else in the room.

And now, after returning to the Factory and searching the place for Vianne, he is in a kitchen of all places, hand-preparing chocolates the old-fashioned way. There's a window open so he can listen for the wind.

You will need to find the one you love and make sure you can keep loving them for all of your life and past it...

(no subject)

Things had progressed peacefully for well into two years, now. Candy production chugged along at its usual rate. Sales remained more or less at their usual level. The Oompa-Loompas ran the place with their usual efficiency and occasional song and dance. The Buckets ... bucketed. And Willy taught Charlie the subtle art of candymaking: the value of creativity, spontaneity, whimsy, comedic timing, unpredictability, and most of all, a complete disregard for convention. Vianne was there, or she wasn't, if that wind was blowing again. But she always left Anouk there at the Factory to learn the same things Charlie learnt, partly to reassure Willy that she would always return... but mostly because the girl was so very tired of so much travel all the time.

But it's always when things are going peacefully that life decides to throw taffy in the gears.

The taffy in the proverbial gears came in the form of a man in a bowler hat and pinstriped suit with a jacket so long it almost looked more like a robe. He'd simply appeared, without ceremony save for the crack of noise heralding his most unlikely arrival out of thin air in Willy's office, at the stroke of ten am on a Monday. Needless to say, the office's occupants were, respectively, startled to the point of a truly spectacular chair upending take complete with flying papers, and ... startled much less impressively. It is telling when an Oompa-Loompa is moved to actually gasp in surprise.

Willy peered over the top of the desk at the room's newest occupant, pushing his hat back from its position over his eyes. The man looked back at him, giving him an eyebrow-quirked stare that he really did not like. The Oompa-Loompa, however, calmly retrieved the papers from the floor and shuffled them back in order, tapping them quietly against the top of the desk before laying them on the desk itself and stepping back.

"Mister William William Wonka, I presume?" the man asked in as plummy an English accent as one could ever hope to hear outside the BBC News Service.

"Aheheh... Ah, just Willy is fine..." Willy floundered, managing to upright the chair and sit on it with no further mishap.

"As you say. My name is Kettlewell, Mister Wonka. I'm..." Here, he trails off. "I'd rather you dismissed your servant from the room at this point."

"Employee," Willy almost snapped. Whoever this man Kettlewell was, he was already two times more presumptuous than Willy usually stood for in his own factory, thank you very much.

"As you say. Employee," Kettlewell continued. "Please have him leave the room, as this is private business."

Willy sighed and left the chair, accompanying the Oompa-Loompa to the door, where he leaned forward to speak quietly to the diminutive fellow. "Go and find Charlie, let him know I'll be a little late, but I'll catch up as soon as I can." The Oompa-Loompa crossed his arms over his chest, fists briefly resting on either shoulder, and then bowed. Willy repeated the arm-crossing gesture, opened the door, and watched the little fellow leave before closing it and turning to face Kettlewell with an expression that said he wasn't so much looking at the other man as much as through him.

"Let me start again," the man with the bowler said. "My name is Kettlewell, Mister Wonka. I'm with the Ministry of Magic."

If such a thing were possible, Willy went even paler. "What do you want?" he asked, his voice barely audible.

The Ministry official reached into his robe and retrieved what turned out to be a scroll, which he opened with a flick of the wrist. Leaning forward slightly, Willy found it to be an itemised list of sorts. And after blinking at it for a moment, he found it to be, specifically, an itemised list of very familiar things. The official flipped the scroll round to read from it.

"Due to recent trouble within the Ministry itself, the pursuit of justice on a local scale had to be, understandably, put on something of a hold. The backlisting of offences is apologised for and will be taken into consideration when final verdict is reached. The list of crimes attributed to the accused, Mister William William Wonka are as follows--"

"Crimes? What?" Willy gasped.

"The list of crimes are as follows:" Kettlewell continued, undaunted. "Unlicensed use of magic without proper and precepted education. Unlicensed procurement of a wand. Unlicensed use of magic and sale of its products to the Muggle population. Unlicensed employment of natives of Loompaland exceeding five hundred. Repeated violation of the Wizarding Secrecy Act. Unwarranted attack upon four Muggle children. Visible changes made to three Muggle children. Intent to employ an underaged Muggle. I'm to instruct you to sign here where it states that you have heard all of the charges against you." With one hand he produced a second scroll covered in very fine print; with the other, a black quill.

"Wh... bh--just a moment...."

"There is no time for that, Mister Wonka. Sign here and we can progress as painlessly as possible."

"Painlessly for who?" Willy stammered, but he took the quill, noticing as he put it to the parchment that there wasn't an inkwell anywhere. He looked up.

"It won't need ink. Just sign."

Willy did so and halfway through his own signature a stinging pain shot through his hand, causing the rest of it to trail off in a squiggly line more illegible than the first part. He stared at the ink, the way it glistened a dark red. He'd dropped the quill and now rubbed his hand, heedless of the squeaking sound his gloves made.

"Thank you." Kettlewell snatched up the scroll and the quill, placing another scroll on the desk. "These papers here detail the date, time, and location of your trial, as well as conditions of the sentence should you be found guilty." He stepped away again, placing everything in a case Willy didn't know he had with him. "If I were you, Mister Wonka, I would secure for myself some very skilled legal counsel. The Wizengamot are not as ... soft as they used to be."

And, with a loud crack, he vanished again, causing Willy to startle violently.

Silence descended once more. Slowly, Willy made his way back to the chair, pulling the glove from his right hand. It bore a few angry red lines against the pale, translucent skin, like violent cat scratches. He sat slowly, staring silently into the middle distance. And there he sat for quite some time.

(no subject)

((Continued from ))

Several days had passed. One memorable evening was spent eating the chocolate gondola and giggling themselves silly, watching Theo play with bits of it. The fact that cats could eat chocolate was an added bonus, in their opinion--wouldn't do to have one's pet take ill because of one's life's work.

The crowds had, after a day or so, stopped converging on Willy--it was amazing how quickly the novelty wore off, yet he still attracted a lot of stares and strangely preferential treatment. The best tables in restaurants, discounts galore, more gifts than he knew what to do with. He had a tendency to get rather pensive at it all.

At the moment, he was staring thoughtfully into a glass of the wine the maitre'd at the restaurant they sat in had insisted they take as a gift. He swirled it about in the glass, his expression far away.

(no subject)

((Continued from ))

When he opened his eyes again, Willy noticed about three hours had passed. It was cooler, now, the sun at about a 3/4 position in the sky. He yawned and stretched, not really caring that he'd spent all this time stretched out on the couch instead of his bed, and sat up, looking about. He left the couch and peeked into the bedroom, but Vianne was nowhere to be found. Curious, he headed to her rooms, knocking on the door before finding it unlocked and opening it, looking inside.

(no subject)

The office was pretty much the same as it was the last time Vianne saw it, though strangely bereft of anything of an Oompa-Loompa-like nature. And this time Wonka didn't trip over anything as they entered.

"Oh, good," he said upon entering. "The machine's stabilised."

He headed for the door that led into the factory, almost as though he'd forgotten that Anouk was there and had never seen it before. Perhaps he had.