RP/OWL: My Beautiful Ghost
Character(s): Cho Chang, Jun Chang (NPC), Percy Weasley.
Location: The dance party flat.
Date: 29th of March, 2000
Status/Warning: Closed/openish.
Summary: Gleeful antics, and a note.
Completion: Complete.
You see,
Cho could grapevine.
She could pretend to tap dance.
She could do anything, anything -- and to thumping pop music from the radio, anything was more appropriate than folding fans. Tamarind seemed to agree. Actually, the entire apartment agreed -- the walls were vibrating in unison! (An accomplishment for some ninety pounds of cello player.)
And watch! Look! Cho did not care about her neighbors.
Cho could do a brise, two brise in a row before collapsing (as gracefully as possible!) Did you know? It's a hop broken by a kick of the leg, how charming. There: hop, hop! These landed her halfway across the living room, and then -- in a feat of impossible glee -- she took a running leap, sliding over the top of the kitchen table with some ease. Unfortunately, this knocked over a chair and a tumbler she hadn't noticed; her bow was to the shattering of glass instead of applause.
No worries! Though Tamarind shrilled loudly under the driving bass, this was cut short by a smart cleanup charm, and Cho was back to her antics with little to no shame. It was sunday. It was not really a dancing day -- if anything, she should be in bed now, or just sliding out, barelegged and groggy. But as it was, she'd opened her eyes to a black band around a pale finger, and sometimes a sight like that could put a girl a bit loopy.
Or -- not loopy -- but exceedingly excited. Excited enough to lose even more sleep than usual. Absolutely bonkers! ....With restraint.
So much restraint, in fact, that there were soon:
Attempts at belly dancing! And three successful back bends! After a biscuit break, witness an invisible showdown with an invisible foe! (One with the apparent height and girth of a certain Weasley.) Chang is victorious! Chang is the victor! Thank you, painkillers and pointed potion-makers! Now Chang's got the magic! See Chang fly round the kitchen with her arms held out like a --
"Oh."
Oh dear.
...
...
Ru.
It was Ru.
He was clinging to the side of the building like a kind of feathered gargoyle, watching her through the closed window. Livid eyes told her he'd been trying to get her attention for some time. But -- not to be brought down, especially when the belly-dancing attempt had given her some very special ideas, Cho approached as if nothing were wrong.
Yes. As if he were any other owl, and... What a thought.
Though heart and pulse sped like an autobahn, her demeanor was as polished as possible for someone who'd just been flailing around in nothing but a slip. She did her best to keep her chin high -- as was advisable -- but her head seemed to want very badly to hang in shame. It was almost as though father were out there instead; even though it was really none of his business what she found fun or an appropriate expression of happiness, there was still that little wince, as if somehow it very much was. Regardless, she almost wished it were him instead of that (frightening) bird. Ru was a thousand times better at portraying subtlety of emotion than his owner. In fact, he amplified all of the subtleties until they were one, one terrible hellhole of an animal.
The infernal gave a kind of skittering growl as she neared; this was accompanied by the sound of Tamarind hiding under the couch quite enthusiastically.
It was interesting how a little bird could have so much personality and yet little to no personal fortitude. Cho would sit and ponder what that said about her as his chosen owner, but she'd decided long ago that Tamarind wasn't the best representation of anyone but a thirteen year old diva. She'd even told him so, to gauge reaction, and the result had been a complete shoo-in.
[Thirteen year old diva named Destiny, who wore jelly sandals.]
... Yeah.
At least the thought made her smile, and that was not at all expected by Ru. As soon as she slipped the window open enough he shoved the letter rudely into her hands; and then she opened her mouth to say thank you, of course, but he was already rocketing off. She could've sworn he looked back at her fleetingly, as if completely unsettled by what he'd just seen. The kitchen rang with the scream that could have been.
Celebratory dance.
--
Hello.
I am wondering what has become of you.
There's been no word for weeks,
and I would like to know if December's
memorial plaque is in service now.
If so: sandalwood or strawberry incense,
my beautiful ghost?
I think strawberry was your favorite, once...
but that was also when you were fourteen.
I am well aware that several of your opinions
have changed since then, most notably
what you find attractive in men. I suppose
we cannot all be Lockhart, especially
if our wrists are skinner than our girlfriend's.
Speaking of -- is Mr. Percy feeding you?
Is he keeping you clothed?
Perhaps you have inspired a violent tendency
with your own: the one where you carry on and on.
I do grow so weary of your jokes,
especially when they involve ignoring me
until you are thirty.
But I hope you have been a good girl, nonetheless.
I wouldn't like to come and drag you out
of your mouse house. If you are still as
skinny as at our last meeting,
I could do it in an instant.
Mr. Percy would never know the difference
if I replaced you with a chopstick.
By the way, please tell him to write me a more personable
letter next time. I did not enjoy his stiff tone.
Also, your mister has handwriting as small as
your consideration for me, which means it is also just
as difficult to see. This should be remedied immediately.
Please inform Mr. Percy that if he has difficulties
writing in English, I would be very pleased to
assist him any way I can, including
more frequent letters about very old man things.
According to his attitude in the last response,
that is what he would enjoy most.
Also: do me a favor and read
the prior portion of your letter aloud to him,
particularly in that tone you do
so well. When you've finished, try your very best to remember my address.
You will join me for dinner soon. I will not take no for an answer.
Signed,
Your most loving father.
Location: The dance party flat.
Date: 29th of March, 2000
Status/Warning: Closed/openish.
Summary: Gleeful antics, and a note.
Completion: Complete.
You see,
Cho could grapevine.
She could pretend to tap dance.
She could do anything, anything -- and to thumping pop music from the radio, anything was more appropriate than folding fans. Tamarind seemed to agree. Actually, the entire apartment agreed -- the walls were vibrating in unison! (An accomplishment for some ninety pounds of cello player.)
And watch! Look! Cho did not care about her neighbors.
Cho could do a brise, two brise in a row before collapsing (as gracefully as possible!) Did you know? It's a hop broken by a kick of the leg, how charming. There: hop, hop! These landed her halfway across the living room, and then -- in a feat of impossible glee -- she took a running leap, sliding over the top of the kitchen table with some ease. Unfortunately, this knocked over a chair and a tumbler she hadn't noticed; her bow was to the shattering of glass instead of applause.
No worries! Though Tamarind shrilled loudly under the driving bass, this was cut short by a smart cleanup charm, and Cho was back to her antics with little to no shame. It was sunday. It was not really a dancing day -- if anything, she should be in bed now, or just sliding out, barelegged and groggy. But as it was, she'd opened her eyes to a black band around a pale finger, and sometimes a sight like that could put a girl a bit loopy.
Or -- not loopy -- but exceedingly excited. Excited enough to lose even more sleep than usual. Absolutely bonkers! ....With restraint.
So much restraint, in fact, that there were soon:
Attempts at belly dancing! And three successful back bends! After a biscuit break, witness an invisible showdown with an invisible foe! (One with the apparent height and girth of a certain Weasley.) Chang is victorious! Chang is the victor! Thank you, painkillers and pointed potion-makers! Now Chang's got the magic! See Chang fly round the kitchen with her arms held out like a --
"Oh."
Oh dear.
...
...
Ru.
It was Ru.
He was clinging to the side of the building like a kind of feathered gargoyle, watching her through the closed window. Livid eyes told her he'd been trying to get her attention for some time. But -- not to be brought down, especially when the belly-dancing attempt had given her some very special ideas, Cho approached as if nothing were wrong.
Yes. As if he were any other owl, and... What a thought.
Though heart and pulse sped like an autobahn, her demeanor was as polished as possible for someone who'd just been flailing around in nothing but a slip. She did her best to keep her chin high -- as was advisable -- but her head seemed to want very badly to hang in shame. It was almost as though father were out there instead; even though it was really none of his business what she found fun or an appropriate expression of happiness, there was still that little wince, as if somehow it very much was. Regardless, she almost wished it were him instead of that (frightening) bird. Ru was a thousand times better at portraying subtlety of emotion than his owner. In fact, he amplified all of the subtleties until they were one, one terrible hellhole of an animal.
The infernal gave a kind of skittering growl as she neared; this was accompanied by the sound of Tamarind hiding under the couch quite enthusiastically.
It was interesting how a little bird could have so much personality and yet little to no personal fortitude. Cho would sit and ponder what that said about her as his chosen owner, but she'd decided long ago that Tamarind wasn't the best representation of anyone but a thirteen year old diva. She'd even told him so, to gauge reaction, and the result had been a complete shoo-in.
[Thirteen year old diva named Destiny, who wore jelly sandals.]
... Yeah.
At least the thought made her smile, and that was not at all expected by Ru. As soon as she slipped the window open enough he shoved the letter rudely into her hands; and then she opened her mouth to say thank you, of course, but he was already rocketing off. She could've sworn he looked back at her fleetingly, as if completely unsettled by what he'd just seen. The kitchen rang with the scream that could have been.
Celebratory dance.
--
Hello.
I am wondering what has become of you.
There's been no word for weeks,
and I would like to know if December's
memorial plaque is in service now.
If so: sandalwood or strawberry incense,
my beautiful ghost?
I think strawberry was your favorite, once...
but that was also when you were fourteen.
I am well aware that several of your opinions
have changed since then, most notably
what you find attractive in men. I suppose
we cannot all be Lockhart, especially
if our wrists are skinner than our girlfriend's.
Speaking of -- is Mr. Percy feeding you?
Is he keeping you clothed?
Perhaps you have inspired a violent tendency
with your own: the one where you carry on and on.
I do grow so weary of your jokes,
especially when they involve ignoring me
until you are thirty.
But I hope you have been a good girl, nonetheless.
I wouldn't like to come and drag you out
of your mouse house. If you are still as
skinny as at our last meeting,
I could do it in an instant.
Mr. Percy would never know the difference
if I replaced you with a chopstick.
By the way, please tell him to write me a more personable
letter next time. I did not enjoy his stiff tone.
Also, your mister has handwriting as small as
your consideration for me, which means it is also just
as difficult to see. This should be remedied immediately.
Please inform Mr. Percy that if he has difficulties
writing in English, I would be very pleased to
assist him any way I can, including
more frequent letters about very old man things.
According to his attitude in the last response,
that is what he would enjoy most.
Also: do me a favor and read
the prior portion of your letter aloud to him,
particularly in that tone you do
so well. When you've finished, try your very best to remember my address.
You will join me for dinner soon. I will not take no for an answer.
Signed,
Your most loving father.