|
|
Post by Bastion Davis on Sept 10, 2009 20:55:14 GMT -5
A dark figure bustle across the busy Muggle street, looking blatantly like he didn't belong. And he didn't. No werewolf, or even a wizard, belonged in the same vicinity as a Muggle. They were mostly too innocent, too fragile, too tender...Bastion silenced the hungry purr-like noise emitting from her throat, shaking his head ferociously and knocking his denim hood away. It revealed a tanned, once-gorgeous face, now lined with aged scars that didn't belong. Each line was deep, as if it was carved onto the smooth golden skin. A dark, raccoon-like mask of shadows made intelligent brown eyes disappear entirely. But traces of a handsome appearance still lingered on the weathered face. The face bore a serious look at the moment, eyes glancing every which way for the slightest oddity. His knuckles were stark white from gripping his wand so tightly.
His eyes glimpsed a building that Muggles passed without a glance. It was unseen to them, of course, but it always struck Bastion odd how they could walk past it and have no idea that there was a full-sized pub between two other buildings. He shook his head. Despite the fact that he was a wizard, he would never understand magic, nor did he care. He was in town, risking his life and his comrade's life for one thing only.
"Firewhiskey," he said in a gruff voice as a waitress approached. He had replaced his hood and strode into the Leaky Cauldron, the most famous wizarding pub in London. After another surveillance mission, he was exhausted and need a drink. And he had several.
Gulping down his ninth bottle of firewhiskey, he blinked groggily and looked around. Another person was throwing him several glances. And he didn't like it. At all. Standing up and swaying slightly, he strode over to the person and said in a slightly slurred voice, "You got a problem or something?"
|
|
|
|
Post by dove on Sept 10, 2009 21:10:59 GMT -5
I followed him. He had stood out like a fly in a bee's nest. So, I was following him. Once he entered a place, I tipped toed after him. Settling into a seat a little ways from him, I caste him a quick glance and nodded, asking a passing waitress for a small glass of rum. When the waitress asked her, her age she lied and said 21, and that she was slightly short for her age. The waitress, giving me the eye of, 'I know your lying..' But I flashed her a smile and pasted a few wizard dollars her way and smirked. The girl vanished and returned quickly. With a much larger glass than I wanted. Taking a swing, I climbed to my feet and edged closer to the weird looking man. She had watched him gulp down nine bottles of firewhiskey, and she had taken her first glass of rum down smoothly. Very smoothly, and yet raggedly, I placed a hand on the man's shoulder. "I'd leave him alone... he's just some gits who likes to stare at people who adore Firewhiskey." I smiled. My eyes looking at the man that was in font of me, and the one sitting. "Oi! Actually, if your doing to kick someone's arce, than I'll let you do that stranger. I need a good laugh." Memories of everything, coming back to me.
Oh how I hated my life now.
--OOC not the best, but just wait I get better with drama =D- [/color] |
|
|
|
Post by Bastion Davis on Sept 10, 2009 22:34:36 GMT -5
Bastion glared at the man who continued shooting glances at him, as if the young man had never moved. It disgusted him, to be stared at like a circus attraction, like he had no feelings. His fist clenched and he drew it back slightly, readying it for a strike. But a hand to his shoulder made him flinch and stumble. He whirled around, wand whipped out and at the girl's throat before he could think twice about it. No one touched Bastion unless they had a death wish. He was momentarily blinded by rage, imagining a jet of light slicing through the delicate skin of his adversary's throat.
He blinked and realized that his "adversary" was nothing more than a student, couldn't even be out of school yet. But his wand stayed at her throat and he rumbled in his same slurred tones, "Don't. Touch me.". With the utmost hesitance, he slowly lowered his wand.
|
|
|
|
Post by dove on Sept 11, 2009 14:20:26 GMT -5
Eyes widen in shock and fear, Dove whipped away, tears stalking her as she thrush herself into the nearest chair and she wipped her wand out gently. Only to push it back into her hoodie pocket, after watching the man lower his. "Bloody hell! You could of killed me you idiot." She spat his way. Eyes glossy, tears had started to flow down her cheeks as she climbed to her feet and rudely pushed him away from the man who had been glaring. Only to have her wrist caught by the glaring man. "Oh what the hell now." She snarled and raised her wand and stunned the man. With a small smile, she turned to the man she had pushed, "Listen here, I won't touch you again, if you at least be nice. Drunk boys don't bother little drunk girls." She narrowed her eyes and watched the waitress bring her a smaller glass of rum, and a smirk crept across her face.
"Dove Harrington, what is your name Firewhiskey?" She went by what she had seen him drink. [/size] |
|
|
|
Post by Bastion Davis on Sept 11, 2009 16:46:31 GMT -5
He snarled slightly, the expression hidden under his dark hood, and his eyes glazed over slightly at the girl's snippy attitude. He sincerely wished he'd let a curse fly. If he hated anything, especially in a drunken stupor, it was sarcastic girls. He glared at her as she told him to be nice. He was drunk, he couldn't even be sane, let alone "nice." He backed up and stared at her past his doubled vision. Why must he be so addicted to alcohol?! Something was funny about her scent. Bastion couldn't remember the pungent odor, but it made his stomach settle uncomfortably.
"Bastion," he said , his voice barely coherent. If her were sober, he would be mentally kicking himself for giving out such information, but one might think that no one would believe someone after they'd had nine bottles of firewhiskey. Unless they were a Death Eater who recognized the name of the Order's most brash werewolf.
|
|
|
|
Post by dove on Sept 11, 2009 17:05:25 GMT -5
A smile came across her lips as she took another sip of rum and put the glass down. "Bastion... what an odd name." She stopped and giggled and stuck out her hand. "I still like Firewhiskey." She closed her eyes and stretched, hearing a pop or two she shrugged and waved a hand for another round. "Tell me Fire-Bastion... what does Firewhiskey taste like?" She asked, her eyes a little widen, at the man's drunken state. She of course, could easily be called drunk, although, she could clearly hear herself screaming the man's name. Looking at the empty cup in her hand, she didn't mean to, but she dropped the damn glass and struggled to keep from laughing. "Nice hoodie! Like mine? It's soo... what can I say... blue." She gently pulled her wand out and pushed it into her pants pocket. She was struggling to keep from laughing. She had another glass in her hand, filled completely to the rim with rum. Shaky hands mad some fall, as she gulped it down. "Now my dear drinking friend... what are you..." She snickered and looked at his hood. "...doing here?" She winced, remembering how her week had gone by, she shrugged and looked at the face under the hood. "Oh..." She giggled again. "I can't believe the week I've had..." She groaned rubbing her temples. "You care to listen Firewhiskey?" Forgetting his name again. Silently, she looked around, seeing a waitress, who nodded is disapproval, and walked away. Dove growled and stomped her foot. "Stupid bloody witch... can't give me another glass... what she take me for! A child!" She spat again, feeling sick already.
"Firewhiskey... can you get me a glass of rum... please... pay you..." She muttered, holding out a lot of wizard dollars. |
|
