Thaddeus "Thatch" Chapman (hasabadfuture) wrote in conversatempore, @ 2013-06-23 01:41:00 |
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Entry tags: | !incomplete, mordicus egg, rabastan lestrange |
Sunny Side UP
Characters:Rabastan & Open
Setting: London Town
Content: Work Safe so far.
Summary: Rabastan is out and aboooot.
When Rabastan was a child, he and his mates spent many of their summers down by the beach where they could swim. British waters are cold mind, even in the heat of July but when you are young and unafraid such things are of little concern. After splashing about and remembering what it was like to feel weightless, the children would invariably begin to compete with one another. This desire to be the best, number one was taught to them at home and at school, it was part of their genes, their birthright as boys of the pureblood class. On dry land it would lend to foot races and who could go highest, or fastest on their father's brooms. In the ocean the activities were one of two- either King of the Rock, or who could hold their breath for the longest while underwater.
The former never really appealed to Rabastan, all pushing and shoving with no real skill required. No did the title last any longer than an afternoon. The latter however? That took practice, took cunning and no small amount of balls. To stay under for one minute, for two was something and if he could hold out a full thirty seconds longer than anyone else? That fact might last a whole summer with no competition.
It was late in the summer, and all their pale skin had turned to freckles and dark shades of brown when one of the other boys held down for five whole minutes. It was impossible, and they all they accused him of using some spell or charm to manage it- he swore this was not the case. Not one to lose his title so close to the end of the holiday, to have to hear about it until next end of term, Rab took a large breath and dropped himself under the water. It was quiet down there, and holding your breath underwater is always easier than above, but that did not mean his lungs were not going to burn. It did not mean he wouldn't slowly get dizzy, regret this stupid idea rethink this commitment, but after six minutes and fifteen seconds- a record that would last until no one cared about such titles had been attained, and Rab pushed himself back up? He knew it was.
That first breath, that pride, that freedom and how sweet it all tasted was the only comparison he could make to simply walking down the street these last few days. At first he stayed low, certain someone would come after him. But as time passed, as the burning in his lungs ceased, he began to enjoy himself. This was why he walked down Diagon with a smile, a dead old witch's wand in his pocket, and her wallet in his hand. As he caught the eye of a stranger, he offered them a grin, and cheered them with a 'Top of the Morning' in his best 1940's accent.
Whatever on hell that was.
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