RP: Plague
Date: 10 April 2005
Characters: Kingsley Shacklebolt
Location: The House Without Food on Albus Avenue
Status: Private
Summary: Kingsley predicts the end of the world.
Completion: Complete
He ate the last tin of soup he had in the cupboard yesterday. The fact that he was able to keep the food in his stomach for the first time in week was a promising sign. The fact that he was now out of soup was not. Not that it was the end of the world or anything. He'd been hungry before. He'd be hungry again, he was sure.
Growl
See? He was right. Hungry again. Should have concentrated more on divination. He'd make a fucking fantastic seer. Right. And Minerva McGonagall has been saving herself waiting for his marriage proposal.
Growl
He reached up to open the rest of the cupboards to make sure he didn't miss anything. Damn. He needed a shower. A week in bed will do that to a man. A week in bed with the fucking plague will do that to a man. There were other ways to spend a week in bed that would be much more pleas...
Growl
He wondered briefly if Tonks or her mum were home. Maybe if he sent a starving patronus their way and they'd take pity on him. Damn. He couldn't very well open the door in just his shorts.
Growl
Fuck. Shower it is. Shower. Shave. Clothes. Food. Robards. Fuck. Forgot about Robards. Maybe he should just starve. His death would be less painful that way.
Characters: Kingsley Shacklebolt
Location: The House Without Food on Albus Avenue
Status: Private
Summary: Kingsley predicts the end of the world.
Completion: Complete
He ate the last tin of soup he had in the cupboard yesterday. The fact that he was able to keep the food in his stomach for the first time in week was a promising sign. The fact that he was now out of soup was not. Not that it was the end of the world or anything. He'd been hungry before. He'd be hungry again, he was sure.
Growl
See? He was right. Hungry again. Should have concentrated more on divination. He'd make a fucking fantastic seer. Right. And Minerva McGonagall has been saving herself waiting for his marriage proposal.
Growl
He reached up to open the rest of the cupboards to make sure he didn't miss anything. Damn. He needed a shower. A week in bed will do that to a man. A week in bed with the fucking plague will do that to a man. There were other ways to spend a week in bed that would be much more pleas...
Growl
He wondered briefly if Tonks or her mum were home. Maybe if he sent a starving patronus their way and they'd take pity on him. Damn. He couldn't very well open the door in just his shorts.
Growl
Fuck. Shower it is. Shower. Shave. Clothes. Food. Robards. Fuck. Forgot about Robards. Maybe he should just starve. His death would be less painful that way.