You're my little lady.
Week Name/Date/Time: 'Settling Down' / Fri, Nov 25 / 7ish pm
Location: Pitch.
Open to: Emmy.
Currently involving: Sly.
The boy wasn't completely ignorant. Far from it, in fact. Friends, professors, parents -- they may not have realized it, but he did read the paper and he did keep up with the world, even if he preferred to pretend the world was less evil when he spoke of it in everyday conversation. It was in his nightmares and in his memories, and in the way he stared longingly at the Dark Forest holding all the creatures of deadly tooth and nail, that might have said otherwise.
What he didn't realize was that he was a bit selfish about these evils. He tried to keep them to himself.
Autolycus Sly thought no one else had any right going near such abominable things. Not these people he loved.
They should have bright futures and easy dreams at night.
And so, wrapped in a cloak and that scarf he'd finally found under his mess of a bed that Kendra knitted for him, weighted down by a parcel which clinked at his hip when he trudged through the snow (the sound of bottles perhaps?), he had these very thoughts in mind to be said to one little blonde woman close to his heart he'd seen flying about on her lonesome. He could recognize such things even from the window in Gryffindor Tower, even if her movements were a bit mopier than usual.
She was wallowing. He'd given her a whole four days since that headline; and now he was going to put a stop to it.
"Hey!" he bellowed up at her from below as soon as he'd reached the pitch, beckoning to her with a gloved hand, the fingers snipped off for making secret maneuvers (door locks? bra clasps?) easier to manage. "You up there with yuir escape tactics! Thass'right!" He was all business, but he added, "Get down 'ere, I've got a word or two for ye. An'a surprise might be in it, if yui're good!" Sly held up the paper parcel and rattled it a bit, the clinking carrying across the night air.
Ever prepared, this one.
Location: Pitch.
Open to: Emmy.
Currently involving: Sly.
The boy wasn't completely ignorant. Far from it, in fact. Friends, professors, parents -- they may not have realized it, but he did read the paper and he did keep up with the world, even if he preferred to pretend the world was less evil when he spoke of it in everyday conversation. It was in his nightmares and in his memories, and in the way he stared longingly at the Dark Forest holding all the creatures of deadly tooth and nail, that might have said otherwise.
What he didn't realize was that he was a bit selfish about these evils. He tried to keep them to himself.
Autolycus Sly thought no one else had any right going near such abominable things. Not these people he loved.
They should have bright futures and easy dreams at night.
And so, wrapped in a cloak and that scarf he'd finally found under his mess of a bed that Kendra knitted for him, weighted down by a parcel which clinked at his hip when he trudged through the snow (the sound of bottles perhaps?), he had these very thoughts in mind to be said to one little blonde woman close to his heart he'd seen flying about on her lonesome. He could recognize such things even from the window in Gryffindor Tower, even if her movements were a bit mopier than usual.
She was wallowing. He'd given her a whole four days since that headline; and now he was going to put a stop to it.
"Hey!" he bellowed up at her from below as soon as he'd reached the pitch, beckoning to her with a gloved hand, the fingers snipped off for making secret maneuvers (door locks? bra clasps?) easier to manage. "You up there with yuir escape tactics! Thass'right!" He was all business, but he added, "Get down 'ere, I've got a word or two for ye. An'a surprise might be in it, if yui're good!" Sly held up the paper parcel and rattled it a bit, the clinking carrying across the night air.
Ever prepared, this one.