InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "You got love to burn!"

Eames (dream_bigger) wrote in colligo_threads,
@ 2011-01-01 23:56:00

Entry tags:

eames, sirius black

Who: Eames and Sirius Black
What: Shooting things with one of Tesla's sparkomatics
Where: The roof of Eames' building
When: Today.
Rating: Sweartastic, no doubt.
Status: In progress.

Eames was on the roof. He had a flask of tea, the mug Sirius had given him, and a few cheese and jam sandwiches with him, since he intended to be up there for a while. He also had one of Tesla's electricity guns.

The magic wards around the building were really excellent. He was able to stand out on the roof and watch the psychotic little balls swarm all over them, and they couldn't get close enough to do him any damage whatsoever. Not for lack of trying, though. In turn, he was able to use Tesla's gun to just pick off the metallic bastards, a handful at a time. It was almost therapeutic, he mused, bracing himself for the kick from the gun before firing into the crowd. If he'd been in a good mood, it might even have been something he'd consider as "enjoyable", but alas, he was in a shitty mood. The dead toclafane that slid down the ward and smashed on the ground below didn't begin to make him feel even the slightest bit better about anything.

Safe in the knowledge that the wards would hold them back, he put the gun down to let it rest a bit, and went to pour himself some tea and have a sandwich. He intended to be there for a while, after all, so he needed something to keep his strength up.

"The man doesn't play nice! Silly man!"

A radio. He should have thought to bring a radio, he realised, as he listened to the sing-songy (and really fucking annoying) voices of the toclafane.

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pad_foot
2011-01-02 04:11 am UTC (link)

Sirius shook his head at the offer of food - in honest truth, he was so hungover today the idea of Eames' signature sandwich filling left him feeling even more nauseous than it usually did. And Eames itself wasn't quite right - Sirius could read that in his hollow smile, the tense way he was holding himself. Of course, that could partially be down to the fact that Toclaphane were running around over their heads, screaming some bollocks. Sirius automatically drew his wand, spinning it between his fingers. He didn't really fancy being a cloud of ash on the rooftop.

"Oh, fuck off." He snapped at the nearest metallic orb, scowling as it bounced off one of the wards and ricocheted off into the air. If their defenses were getting such a battering, they'd need recasting soon. Sirius' head gave a gentle pound, a headache starting to press tiredly on the inside of his skull.

"You putting my wards through their paces?" he asked Eames, strolling over to the ledge and peering over, feeling his stomach lurch with the drop and the destroyed city spread out beneath.

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dream_bigger
2011-01-02 09:22 pm UTC (link)

"Something like that. They seem to be holding up fine. Why, do they wear out? Because that would be useful to know. I'm not really taken with the idea of dying in reality for a second time. And I'd really rather you didn't go for a graceful swan-dive off the roof ledge, so if you wouldn't mind stepping back from the edge, I'd appreciate it."

Really, if everyone could keep from snuffing it for a few weeks or months or years, years would be wonderful, actually, then everything would be fine. And if Arthur could get his magnificent arse in gear and land back in this godawful place once more, that would be even better. Sadly, nobody had a direct line to Eames' thoughts and so his two wishes were unlikely to be considered. So he settled for drinking half his mug of tea, then picked up the gun and aimed for the nearest clump of Toclawhatevers.

"Mind yourself, pet," he said, then braced himself for the kick and fired. His skin felt all crawly, and he was pretty certain he was going to get one absolute fuck of an electric shock from all the static he was building up, but he really didn't care when he watched another seven or eight deathballs drop down dead.

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pad_foot
2011-01-02 10:44 pm UTC (link)

Sirius shrugged, straightening up from where he'd been leaning perilously over the edge. "If you give them enough of a battering they'll need recasting. They're the same ones my dear old Mum used to cast on our house to keep Muggle stuff out. It was only my wish to send her completely round the bend by playing Muggle music that caused me to study up, so..."

He grinned, not completely truthfully, before hoisting himself up to perch on the ledge. He'd sat like this talking to Regulus, he remembered. Nearly gave the younger boy a heart attack when he'd wobbled. The memory sent a stab of pain into his chest, and the smile wavered and fell. He hated the fact that he missed him. Regulus had been the most pompous, irritating dickhead Sirius had ever had the bad luck to know, and he'd gone years without contact. And now.. well, look at him. It was fucking pathetic.

Sirius craned his neck to look up as Eames shot into the sky, causing several shells to fall heavily downwards. It was impressive, he'd admit that much. And a shitload more effective than any magic he'd tried. Sirius swung his legs, kicking the concrete of the barrier he was perched on. "Where in the name of Godric's hairy arse did you get that?" he asked, nodding to the weapon.

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dream_bigger
2011-01-06 12:39 am UTC (link)

"Who is this Godric person? You've mentioned him before. And Nikola Tesla made a load of them, left some in each building. Have you met him before? Or heard of him?" Because it made complete sense for one of the most important scientists in the history of... well, science to be here along with everyone else, making guns that fired lightning (actually, that bit made perfect sense, given what other things the man had invented). Still, Eames wasn't complaining in the slightest.

He took aim, then warned Sirius once more, before firing another few bolts of lightning into the swarm of balls. "Fuck me, it's like the Terrahawks gone mental," he muttered to himself, then took out a particularly noisy one that seemed to have a bit of a hard-on for Sirius. "They really are the most awful little bastards, aren't they? I wonder if we could herd them all into the lake and then drop a shitload of toasters in. Would that be enough charge, I wonder?"

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pad_foot
2011-01-06 12:19 pm UTC (link)

From his casual position over a six storey drop, Sirius swept dark hair back off his face. He was quite sure he'd spend the rest of his time here trying to explain wizardry to this bloke who liked to take jaunts inside people's sleeping heads for a relaxing night in. Which was bloody typical of his life.

"Godric Gryffindor," he explained, with the air of someone who couldn't really be arsed with all this. "He was one of the founders of Hogwarts, which is the Wizarding school we all went to. Had my house named after him. Isn't Nikola a girls name?"

Eames fired once again into the air, sending glinting metallic orbs scattering through the sky. Sirius took the opportunity to slide elegantly down from the ledge and draw his wand from his back pocket in one fluid motion. Rose had told Sirius some things about the Toclaphane before she'd been taken, things he really wished she'd kept to herself, and the knowledge of it weighed down on his shoulders with everything else. He decided not to share that particular nugget with Eames.

"Mate, I only learnt how elec-whatsit worked about a month ago," Sirius pointed out, waving his wand lazily to send several spheres whizzing off into the distance like they were pulled by invisible horses. "Ask Granger. Anyway, more would just show up."

That was perhaps the most maddening part of this. Whatever they did, however many they destroyed, more just came swarming out of the sky, giggling and singing out and generally acting like dicks.

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