RP: Flowers and weather and snark, oh my
Date: December 11, 2004
Characters: Kingsley Shacklebolt, Rita Skeeter
Location: Er, some random field on the side of the road, South Street.
Status: Private
Summary: Rita is out picking flowers. Kingsley is on his way home. Conversation is unavoidable.
Completion: Complete
Rita's apartment was almost back to normal. She'd completely transfigured it to match her tastes, there was a green ink stain on the writing desk and an empty bottle of wine on the coffee table, and Gilda fluttered about looking gorgeous, ruffling her feathers and generally preening for fish.
There was only one element missing. In London, when she could afford it and where such things had been readily available, Rita had always had fresh flowers on display. People might have thought it odd, that such a harsh woman liked things so delicate, but they had no idea.
It was a beetle thing. Like her attraction to shimmering fabrics and the way shiny lights sometimes distracted her, there were certain things that carried over from one's animagus form to one's human form.
And she missed the flowers.
But for Merlin's sake, she was closer to the country than she'd ever been in London, and the outlying areas of Stoatshead Hill were quite green. Even in December, there had to be some hardy flowers growing somewhere. They may not have been the delicate night-blooming ones she'd preferred in the old days, but, well, one had to make do with what one could find.
Surely it wouldn't be too difficult. She took off out the window.
Eventually, she found some her beetle-self rather liked the smell of, and she found herself hovering, distracted, above them, just taking it in. Then, pulling herself together, she transformed and surveyed them from human height, smiling. They would definitely do.
She leaned down and plucked one of the blooms, twirling it in her fingers. As much as she loved them, she didn't think she'd actually picked flowers before. She became so engrossed in it that she didn't see the figure moving along the nearby road toward her.
Characters: Kingsley Shacklebolt, Rita Skeeter
Location: Er, some random field on the side of the road, South Street.
Status: Private
Summary: Rita is out picking flowers. Kingsley is on his way home. Conversation is unavoidable.
Completion: Complete
Rita's apartment was almost back to normal. She'd completely transfigured it to match her tastes, there was a green ink stain on the writing desk and an empty bottle of wine on the coffee table, and Gilda fluttered about looking gorgeous, ruffling her feathers and generally preening for fish.
There was only one element missing. In London, when she could afford it and where such things had been readily available, Rita had always had fresh flowers on display. People might have thought it odd, that such a harsh woman liked things so delicate, but they had no idea.
It was a beetle thing. Like her attraction to shimmering fabrics and the way shiny lights sometimes distracted her, there were certain things that carried over from one's animagus form to one's human form.
And she missed the flowers.
But for Merlin's sake, she was closer to the country than she'd ever been in London, and the outlying areas of Stoatshead Hill were quite green. Even in December, there had to be some hardy flowers growing somewhere. They may not have been the delicate night-blooming ones she'd preferred in the old days, but, well, one had to make do with what one could find.
Surely it wouldn't be too difficult. She took off out the window.
Eventually, she found some her beetle-self rather liked the smell of, and she found herself hovering, distracted, above them, just taking it in. Then, pulling herself together, she transformed and surveyed them from human height, smiling. They would definitely do.
She leaned down and plucked one of the blooms, twirling it in her fingers. As much as she loved them, she didn't think she'd actually picked flowers before. She became so engrossed in it that she didn't see the figure moving along the nearby road toward her.