Gerald Avery (tenebrisme) wrote in disorderic, @ 2018-03-04 00:31:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | aberforth dumbledore, gerald avery |
WHO: Aberforth Dumbledore and Gerald Avery
WHEN: After the log that just went up
WHERE: The Avery estate
SUMMARY: Gerald catches Aberforth in the exeunt of his act.
WARNINGS: Thoughts about the Duke of Wellington's bum.
After dismissing his class and intoning thanks for a job well done in the direction of the model, he left it up to his star pupil to see the young hitwizard out. He then, in his sitting room, considered three heavily gilded frames. The paintings within held nothing of particular significance - inspiring English landscapes, certainly, but each could be anywhere. Tonight he chose a wide, verdant field and with a flourish of his wand, stepped into the painting. Navigating this world, he turned and strode down a twilight strewn land leading to another frame. Here, he considered the vista of the ‘real’ world. And stepping from the frame (in youth he’d have liked to leap), he flourished his wand. “Confringo!” The spell came out of nowhere as Aberforth had been headed to the exit. His own wand flourished, catching and batting away the blasting spell and sending it off into a lovely chesterfield that split in half upon impact. Where the hell did Avery even come from? Owing to the massiveness of the Avery Estates Aberforth knew he’d outstayed his welcome as he and Elphias had to scramble vast distances to ensure bugs were placed in enough locations to make it worth while. And now he was confronting the Death Eater when he didn’t want to be; it wasn’t in the plan at this moment. Glamoured to look like a much younger, brunette man, Dumbledore sent his own blasting spell right back at Gerald Avery as he scoured the room, assessing it for risks. The poor chesterfield had seen better days and so, after shielding himself from the blasting curse, he set the destroyed furniture alight in a controlled burn. “Interloper!” he trilled, and pushed the flaming wood at Aberforth with wounded gusto. “You are not a parent or a model!” The flaming furniture hit a shimmering shield and dropped to the flower, scattering burning pieces across the studio. Did Dearborn’s very nude, prancing form not keep the Averys interested as long as he expected? Rather than counter-attack immediately and further mire matters, Aberforth scanned the room behind Gerald Avery searching for the source of entrance. There was only a wall. With a portrait on it, a little English landscape. The vigilante’s eyes narrowed, and then swept his wand to send a hailstorm of the chesterfield’s remains at the Death Eater. The debris passed harmlessly through Gerald’s shield to fall in a little heap of ashes upon the floor. “That piece belonged the Duke of Wellington!” Drawing his wand into an oval, he conjured heavy chains and flung them at the interloper. Catching him, he supposed he’d turn him over the the Hitwizards. Or better yet, he could be target practise for his students. “Oh shove it up the Duke’s arse,” Aberforth spat as he finished the diagnostics — no tracking charm, a relief given how silently the Death Eater appeared. Then, with a yank on a chain, he spiraled out of existence as the chains wrapped around thin air and crashed to the floor. The minute shock of shoving anything up the Duke of Wellington’s arse gave Gerald pause and before he could react, the interloper was gone. But he did not miss the portkey about the neck. Though it didn’t quite spell Phoenix it did at least manage to give him pause. He uttered a spell to assure himself that there was no one present and then, stepping back through the frame, was gone. |