RP Location - The Old Viaduct, Black mountain, 95 miles north of Hogsmeade.

[hl_npc]

The railway runs along the side of the Black mountain, the sides of which are dotted with sheep, and the occasional crofter’s cottage. It is isolated and cold - there is still snow on the mountain tops at this time of year, and the March winds blow right through you

Comments

[www_fg]

The twins, having arranged that Diane (a somewhat reluctant flier) should fly with one of them, waited for her outside Thorne. Fred, in particular, seemed anxious, edging in front of his brother, so that he might be nearer the door.

They were each laden down with supplies, "Extendable Ears", bags containing metal discs, and another containing some Muggle wire they had "borrowed" from their father's workshop.

And fireworks, obviously. Just in case.

[diane_archer]

Diane hurried through the corridors, with a leaf of note-scribbled parchment held between her teeth. She moved slightly lopsided as she tried to pull a small rucksack into place on her shoulders, and rearrange the flying goggles that clung at an angle on her forehead, pushing the blonde and ink-dart hued hair into a pile of messy spikes.
Combined with robes pulled tight at the joints - in an attempt to ward off an innate lack of aerodynamics - she was quite sure she looked ridiculous. At least she'd only got the watery-in-wind eye issues from her father, rather than the bad vision ones, but still...

She reached the doors and hurried through, narrowly missing one of Fred's supply bags with the swinging door, and finally pullled the notes out of her mouth and stuffed them into a pocket.

Calm. It's actually quite hard to fall off a broom - theoretically - and it's not like you have to actually fly the thing.

She smiled, if a little mechanically.

"All set?"

[www_fg]

George started to giggle as he noticed the combination of goggles and spiky, multi-coloured hair, until a well aimed nudge in the ribs from his sibling gave him something else to think about.

In answer to Diane's question, Fred grinned and pointed to his broom. "Your chariot awaits ma'am". Having made sure all the bags were secure, and perfectly balanced, and with Diane sitting (somewhat nervously) behind him, he kicked off and they soared up into the air.

George, somewhat puzzled by his brother's antics, followed behind.

[diane_archer]

She did not like flying. Somehow, the magnitude of that statement was always forgotten, afterwards, only to be thrust into stomach-tightening new reality after roughly five minutes.

Diane clung on grimly as the wind whistled past them - each new gust becoming better acquainted than the last with various regions of the goggled witch - trying to find some way to hold onto the broom that would not involve inverting her elbows. There didn't seem to be anyway especially safe to look, either. Up allowed the wind far too much access, down was right out - there had been sea last time, and far too much depth before that - and sideways produced considerably more horizon than was really needed.

The broom lurched, and Diane yelped. She got the distinct impression that gravity had suddenly noticed them, and then, her brain bypassed entirely in the panicked moment of self-preservation, a moment later she realised her arms were locked around the chest in front of her, goggles full of robes.

...well... I suppose 'forwards' is an option, then...

[www_fg]

The twins landed just south of the bridge. George immediatel busied himself unpacking the bags he had been carrying.

Fred, aware that the flight hadn't been the best experience for Diane, asked her "Are you all right?" Her muffled response was inaudible, but the arms clasped around his chest told their own, not altogether unwelcome story.

[diane_archer]

It took quite a lot of effort not to fall off the broom in relief as it landed. She managed not to, but it was a fairly close thing. Possibly it counted as still retaining a scrap of dignity. On about the third try, Diane managed to unlatch her fingers and climb off, turning to survey the area until her cheeks had settled down. She whistled. It was… bigger, than she'd imagined. A tiny flicker of concern surfaced, but she squashed it. It would work. And even if it didn't, there was the backup option.

Her cheeks having calmed down, she turned back to her companions, and nodded.

"I'm going to check the dimensions, and make sure we're setting this all up right." She made her way quickly over to the nearest towering stone arch, pulling a pale coil from her bag as she did so. The tape measure leapt out of her hand and, at the flick of a wand, began stretching between the arch's stony supports.

Diane pulled out her lighter - which her subconscious had already labelled the 'flobile', in a distinctly Stoker tone - and flipped it

Spock to HQ

[diane_archer]

Spock, Fizz and Buzz down. Setting up now.

Spock to Abacus

I have the dimensions. They're about what you thought, but I need to know if the frequency on the plates needs any tweaking.

OOC - gah, I cannot *type* today

HQ to Spock

[tartan_tabby]

Thank you Spock.
We will let you know when the target is approaching, with an hour to spare.