Regulation and Control

Who: Mila and Charlie
What: Puppy swap
Where: Hyde Park
When: Waaaaayyyy backdated (May 10)
Rating: PG
Status: Closed; Incomplete

"Fetch," Mila tried again, throwing a stick she had found on the ground after waving it in front of her excited dog. He seemed eager, wagging his tail furiously when she showed him the twig, but as soon as she threw it he lost interest - turning around to watch it sail away and hit the ground before turning back to Mila, panting and thumping his tail as if the stick had never existed.

She sighed in exasperation, the fourth stick thrown without success, before kneeling down and petting her dog's belly after he flopped onto his back with his tongue lolling. "Honestly, Will, how am I supposed to find you a home when you can't even fetch?" She mused, her voice thick as she brought up their situation again, Bulgarian words slurred miserably. Willoughby seemed to notice that she was upset again - at least he was smart enough to pick up that - and slapped her lightly with his paw before whining. "No," she said firmly before picking him up and kissing his head anyway. "No crying from you - no one wants to see a sad puppy."

Who: Euphemia Borage, Malcolm Baddock and OPEN
Where: the medical room at Scamander Park
When: Friday night
What: Problems with patients - completely random RP, so we'll update the summary as things start to happen.
Rating: Who knows?
Status: Open; in progress


Her fingers wrapped around the hot cup of coffee as she sat in a wooden rocking chair across from the tables that lined the small containment rooms in the prison area. Her feet dangled off the edge as she cradled a book on her knee, eyes glancing at it, but not really reading. Her concentration was on the shallow breathing of the patient strapped down and the wards that surrounded him. Heavy wooden doors and walls weren't always enough when one suspected something of paranormal qualities. Euphemia wasn't sure from the look of the man what, precisely, had indicated such a quality but the need to keep an eye on him overnight had excused her from yet another dinner party and that was enough.

Standing, she dropped the book on the chair and stretched, her gaze darting away for a second to look at the wall. Then she heard it- a sudden crack like lightning from the table where he lay.

Who: Fred Holden & Finn McGill
What: Plotting Wolfgirl to get a real life, one that stays put
Where: The Cat Bungalow (i.e. Fred's house)
When: 5ish pm Friday, 23rd May
Rating: PG likely
Status: Closed; Complete

The of being a witch was never lost when it came to quitting time. There was something to be said for being able to pop home from the workplace instantly instead of having to suffer through rush hour traffic like Ford had to. She had locked up her office for the night with the intention that she'd be back the next day. She was a Monday through Friday kind of girl normally but when the moon cycle cropped up she put in extra time to make up for the absence. She wasn't even exactly required to do it but she just always had and Quent seemed alright with the overtime as long as she kept it reasonable.

She sauntered through the door to her house practically bouncing with energy. She needed to go running something awful but she knew she'd promised Trent she'd wait for him and he may or may not be running late tonight at work tonight. She pouted to herself but called out cheerfully, "Honeys, I'm home!" Dropping her keys in a basket near the door she wandered into the kitchen to rifle for food. "Are there any honeys home?" Maybe Finn had taken off and both of the boys weren't there yet. Man, that was disappointing.

Who: Snape and Astoria Greengrass
What: Astoria receives a lead on Unspeakable activity and tails Snape to Crychan Forest. Smells like FISH.
When: May 23, 2008
Where: Crychan Forest, beneath the Viaduct

The broomstick touched down on farmland. The farmhouse had been abandoned; it was for the reason why Obliviators and Regulators had been called to the former battleground in the first place. Snape could sense a total saturation of the ground by dark and wild magic. It was like fallout, except no one would walk away today glowing green and vomiting out their insides. Leaning the broomstick beside the back door of the old house, which was creaking noisily back and forth, half off its hinges, he went several paces toward the fields beyond the barn. The Viaduct rose in the distance, maybe a half mile away.

He was hesitant to touch down directly, unsure if the broomstick would operate directly over the target. He would go on foot from here, and he hunched his shoulders slightly and headed into the bush, feeling distinctly wary of his surroundings. If his suspicions were correct, he had good reason to worry.