sirius (pyrrhic) wrote in abaeterno_rpg, @ 2021-10-28 03:20:00 |
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The bus doors haven't even fully opened when Sirius shoulders his way through them and leaps to the ground. His stride is long and loping, his wand already cutting through the air to send a clutch of Patronus messages to those he trusts implicitly among the living and the dead. Instead of the number he'd intended, only a single silver German Shephard bounds from his wand and disappears through a crowd of ghouls to find its target, who watch him with saucer-wide eyes. He is still, waiting for a reply from whichever one of his people got the message: I'm here. Are you? Potion vials shift silently in the lining of his black-and-white pinstripe tuxedo, blood-red phoenix cufflinks gleam in the cuffs of his white dress shirt, and a tattoo of a lily opens and closes its petals across the back of his right hand. The suitcase with his leather jacket and drainpipe jeans is nestled into his trouser pocket, the size of a single silver sickle. The scent that clings to him is the sharp, unexpected tang of citrus. Something hairy with sharp teeth senses that he is distracted and creeps up behind him to take a bite — senses wrong, as the casual way Sirius flicks his wand behind himself to vanish it from existence is almost bored. He waits for three minutes. "Right," Sirius says quietly. The first Patronus he attempts to cast to narrow down whom he's looking for is for his godson. The conductor had said no children were allowed on the bus, but Sirius trusts no one's word but Lily and James's when it comes to Harry. Besides, he'd also said that people come from different points in time. The second Patronus attempt is for Lily. That, too, does not emerge from his wand to carry its message, even though the memory he draws from will never, ever fail him. So not Harry, and not Lily. Third time lucky. The silver form of Padfoot bursts from his wand and races off through the town to carry its message to truly, the better part of Sirius's soul: Mr Padfoot requests that Mr Prongs' stop moping about missing his favourite three people, as the best-looking of them has arrived, and would appreciate a Patronus message back, you cunt. Sirius allows himself a grin that it's Prongs who is here. What perfect fucking luck. Hopefully, it's a Prongs that comes from his future. A Prongs who can give some notes on how the Fidelius Charm plan went, so Sirius can refine it further. If he can reveal that Sirius had been fucking paranoid about Moony and there'd never been a spy, just a lot of enormously, absurdly poor luck — then even better. Though he wouldn't turn his nose up at any Prongs, future or past, just so long as he's here and alright. He tucks his wand back in its holster, strides into a dark corner (can't be too careful there's not Death Eaters about, even in what is another planet), and sinks into being Padfoot. A massive black German Shephard with arresting grey eyes takes the place of the 6'3 tall young man and races off in the direction its silver doppelganger had gone off to, snuffling for the scent of James or Prongs. |