headweasel (headweasel) wrote in fourteenshades, @ 2014-05-18 14:36:00 |
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Current mood: | hopeful |
Entry tags: | arthur weasley, cressida malfoy |
Arthur & YOU!
WHO: Arthur Weasley & open to multiples who would be in/near the Burrow.
WHAT: Arriving!
WHERE: Around the Burrow.
WHEN: Early Sunday afternoon.
RATING: PG
NOTES: I want him to get a lot of information at once so hop in if your character has any reason to be around. He is going to be confused, but comically so and everything will work out in the end. Make sub-threads! No, really. Please?
Arthur hadn't gotten good and pissed since some of his mates dragged him out for cigars and booze right after Bill was born. It had been a right good time, but infants didn't take their father's social calendars into consideration so Arthur hadn't drank properly in ages. This had to explain why one lousy fire-whiskey made him think he was in some magical village outside time and space.
He rubbed his bum. Talk about crash landings. He didn't recall falling on his backside, but he also didn't recall deliberately sleeping next to a tree either. The book he woke up next to held an interesting explanation inside the cover. He kept returning to that explanation, but, oddly, entry after entry in various hand-writings kept appearing. He could hardly keep up.
His stomach grumbled. Well, he hoped this so-called magical place had food. Darn it. Did he have money on him? He fished some coins out of his pocket. Hopefully enough. Maybe they took pity on strangers? He glanced at the book. Maybe Molly could read the writing too? Should he write that he'd get back to her just as soon as he ate? Would she get mad that he was dawdling? Surely, she knew he couldn't help stepping outside a floo network.
"They should include a map with this thing," he grumbled as he turned down yet another winding road. "Where is every---" He squinted. The Burrow! What was the Burrow doing over there? "MOLLY!" He called. "MOLLY!" He took off running. When he got to the door, he tried the usual wards, but found he couldn't get inside. "MOLLY! COME ON! I DIDN'T MEAN TO BE LATE! LET ME IN!" After a few minutes, he sighed. "Fine, I'll find my own way in." He shrunk his journal and pushed it into his pocket before peering into some windows. Surely he could break into his own home. "Odd," he muttered. "I don't remember all those photographs. Who are all those people?"