Regulation and Control

Who: Susan Bones and Dudley Dursley
What: Eclairs. (It makes as much sense as the summary of anything Ruth and I do, so yeah. Will update when something sensible occurs.) Edit: Nothing sensible ever did occur, nonsensical things include Jack-in-Irons, a giant with the heads of his victims swinging on his belt.
Where: a lonely road in Kilnsey Crag, Yorkshire, England
When: January 2007, after dark
Rating: PG-13 at least, for namecalling and severed heads
Status: Closed; complete

Pound. Pound. Pound. Dudley wasn't sure which was louder- the thudding of his heart against his ribcage or the slamming heavy steps behind him that rocked the dales, sending even his heavy body flying upwards slightly with every shambling step behind him. He was running as hard as he could, desperately thankful that, for once, he'd found someone larger than himself and slower as he circled the rock, smelling the decomposition of the creature right behind him.

"Don't think about the heads, Ver, don't think about the heads..." he slurred as a blow glanced towards him. No, not him. Towards a woman.

Without thinking, he plowed straight into her, knocking her to the ground as the giant's fist came lurching towards her head. The fist barely missed them both and Dudley pressed her harder into the ground as he stared up at the beast, fumbling for his gun and pointing it at the creature. One bullet screamed out of the barrel, then another, to the sound of a penetrating roar that rocked the countryside.

Who: Christopher Warrington and Arabella Mac
What: Arabella tries to sell information to Chris. Fail.
Where: the Sandwalk at Scamander Park
When: January 10, 2007
Rating: G
Status: Closed; complete

"You," Arabella came running up behind the man, sandy hair flailing behind her as she jogged to catch up, words catching in her throat. "You- I need to talk to you." Her fingers snagging the back of Warrington's shirt, she tugged, then dropped her hand, leaning down to find her breath.

It was dark in the sandwalk, tendrils of ivy snaking across the path where they had started to grow wild. Her eyes followed it rather than the older man's face, finding the plant trail infinitely more interesting than eyes or a chin. It twisted around a tall tree, nearly choking the life from it, she could tell by the roots. Tucking a loose lock of hair behind her ear, she made a note to herself to ask Ev why no one ever gardened here. It seemed odd to let anything called a "walk" grow so wild. Then again, there was still much about wizards she didn't understand.

Lifting her jaw, she saw that he was casting an imperious look across the top of her head. With a wave of her hand, Arabella said, "I've got information for you of the absolutely impossible sort."

( Things fool you that aren't magical sometimes. )

Who: Anthony Goldstein and Louis Rye (thank you, Gwen)
What: Anthony travels to France to help the Resistance
Where: Calais and then Nice
When: March 3rd, 1998
Rating: PG
Status: closed, complete

( First meetings )

Who: Everrett and Arabella Mac
Where: A circus camp in Moscow, Russia
What: Joining the circus, meeting a seer and generally scaring themselves silly.
When: Summer of 1997
Rating: G
Status: Closed; complete

( In adventures scary stuff always happens, but good prevails. You know that. )

Who: Dudley Dursley & Susan Bones
What: Um...banshees. (Ancient Irish fairy tale banshees, yo, not correct by written folklore.)
Where: the Tower Bridge, London
When: 5th November, 2007
Rating: PG-13, probably, for language
Status: Open; complete

The purple sky of late evening still remained, slightly, though dark navy chased it further and further into the horizon, bringing with it a blanket of stars which burned brightly above head, casting a dull lighting over the city of London. The street lamps had blazed to life shortly after four, but most leading to the Tower Bridge were burnt out, or smashed, the youths who had done so leaving nothing but the smell of alcohol and shards of glass in their wake.

As she walked Sue slammed her feet down heavily against the ground, the sound of crunching glass loud in her ears. The night was hot, humid, and nearly deserted, which was odd for November. It was almost time for the party-goers and drunks to spill out of the pubs and clubs around, cars speeding recklessly over the bridge as they tried to find just one more open venue that they weren't barred from. Sue estimated she had perhaps an hour to continue walking, though she didn't do so. Instead she stopped at the side of the bridge, her fingers curling around it, mind not on the noise of the cars behind her but on the water she looked down into, so dark it seemed almost black.

"That's what the sky should like look," she murmured, uncaring that she was talking to herself. It was so odd and so like England to be bright out when it was nearing one a.m., evening sky remaining despite the hour.

A yell sounded from down the street and another echoed. Sue sighed. Apparently the pubs closed earlier than she thought.

Who: Christopher Warrington and Draco Malfoy
Where: The archive section in the Regulator's Department Building
When: March, 2003
What: Draco is messing with Chris' files, who in turn decides to show him who's boss. You know, verbally.
Rating: PG-13 for a bit of bad language
Status: Closed; complete

( You're a control freak, Warrington. )