Rolf. (rscamander) wrote in changedrpg, @ 2011-10-12 23:08:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !date: 1997 - october, john dawlish, rolf scamander |
Who Rolf and John
What After a night out with the werewolves, Rolf comes in.
When Wee hours, Thursday Morning
Where Their flat
Status Closed/INCOMPLETE
Rating PG...for Blood.
Rolf was now convinced of two things. The first was that there was such a thing as being overconfidence, and the second was that he was sure he would be fine as soon as he got home to rest a while. Tonight, he'd been too careless. He'd made some connections over his time in England with a group of werewolves near Black Pool that ran together during the full moon. His plan tonight had simply been to observe them, but he was far too new amongst their midst to get as close as he had and he'd suffered for it.
All it took was one swift swipe from a female's claws, cutting open his forearm, for him to know that he had to get away from them. He apparated quickly--and it took him a while to figure out where he'd gotten to--before he found his way back to London. Rolf was terrible at healing charms, and on top of that, werewolf injuries--even scratches--needed to be treated a certain way or they would fester and scar. So, before making the trip, he took off his torn jacket, ripped the sleeve off his shirt to use as a bandage and then replaced his coat with hopes that if John was still awake for some reason, he wouldn't notice the severity of the wound.
By the time he reached Bloomsbury, however, the light beige coat he'd warn was burgundy over the place where the werewolf had caught him. He thought, then, his best course of action would be to sneak in as quiet as possible, forgo the dinner, and just crawl to his room where he could dress the scratch properly and go to bed. He might miss that breakfast John was going to make, but at least he wouldn't know what had happened.