Who: Morag and Arcturus Prewett When: 8 pm, Evening, Day 1 Where: Grounds What: Morag's smoking...go fucking figure. Rating: R because I've already said fuck once, and you can only say fuck once in PG13. Status: complete
Dusk was falling in the far horizon as Morag stood outside of the Sanctuary, one leg up on an artfully placed boulder. She was dressed in a black strapless mini-dress and matching high heeled boots that went up just past her knees. Her short black hair blew lightly in the breeze as she took a deep drag from her cigarette, trying to figure out what good was to be got from the place she was now...besides the fact that she was simply glad to not be in Azkaban. At least there'd been no proof that she'd killed anyone... no. They'd just found some of her (tamer) tomes of the Dark Arts... whoever tipped off the Ministry would fucking pay too, when Morag found out.
Still, there was something peaceful about the outside just now...even if she still felt a bit trapped. Morag was used to wide fields, and large bodies of water. To have only a small front garden blocked off by fence she couldn't walk past... if she were an animal she'd be pacing right now. As it were, she felt she was in a cage... least this one was house-shaped, rather than an actual cage. Somehow it didn't make her feel any better. She heard something behind her and she tensed, bringing the cigarette back to her lips as she turned her head to look over her shoulder, back towards the building. "Who are ye, an' why are ye sneakin' up on me?"