Regulation and Control

( Warded Owl to Katie Jones )

Who: Rabbit Tuor and Katie Jones
What: Shenanigans.
Where: Katie's father's pawn shop, Hackney
When: Sunday afternoon, after football before dinner with Tonks.
Rating: TBD

He hadn’t been a very good serial killer stalker, that’s what Rabbit had told Katie last week. But more than that, he had meant that he had been a shit friend. Not that he thought she considered him a friend, but he had enough reason in his mind to consider her one, and that meant something. But whatever level of ‘shitty’ he had been then was multiplied tenfold when he didn’t stop by immediately after she had told him that something was up. Even with his own problems to deal with, ones that mostly revolved around his family at the moment, he knew there was no excuse for not asking. Which was what brought him to the pawn shop her father own.

And that had been a pain in the ass to find. But no matter.

Rabbit circled the perimeter once before stopping at a glass case with watches, a plain gold one catching his eye. “How much?” he asked in greeting, looking up with a half-crooked smile.

Who: Harry Potter and Katie Jones
What: Buying a couch.
When: Sunday, July 19 - Backdated
Where: Hackney, London
Rating: PG for language
Status: Closed; complete

Alright, Katie did have a point, Harry thought as he dragged the couch outside the garage and he collapsed on the clean end, sweating. Godzilla and Killer of Men were looking at him interestedly from the other side of one of the windows, pawing at the glass and biting at one another provocatively. He stood and wiped the sweat from his brow, then drew his wand and fired a spell at it. The couch burst into a fine cloud of dust, and he waved his hand in front of his face so as not to inhale it before it dissipated.

( ...I've only done it with Muggles. )

( Heavily warded owl to Katie Jones )

Who: FREE FOR ALL! (But especially Vi and Katie)
What: Abraxan Races (Malt whiskey drinking horses - does it get any better?)
When: Sunday noon, July 20
Where: Mistley Downs, a wizarding aerial race course in Manningtree, the smallest market town in England
Rating: TBD, minimum PG for language
Status: Open; in progress
Notes: This is a fun open RP. Mon's developing plot around this idea but it won't happen here. People are welcome to subthread or start separate ones. We're going to blithely ignore the conventions of time for those participating - chalk it up to a misplaced Time Turner or something and double-thread as much as needed.


Wizards had conspired for centuries to keep Manningtree small. And to keep muggle animal authorities out of the place - while it was easy enough to place disillusionment charms on the wings, too often in other villages had careless wizarding lads shoved a bottle of malt whiskey into an Abraxan's mouth right in front of the authorities.

As a result, the air itself seemed charged with magic as the crowds began to filter through the Downs, explained away to the muggles nearby as part of a music festival. With pitchforks and brooms, the farmers eyed the passing wizards but allowed them to pass, shying away from the grassy dale where sounds of unearthly music began to echo. Nothing, after all, spoke "leave me alone" quite like the dismal sounds of Mad Martin and the Muggles. Many wizards, also, clapped their hands over their ears during opening ceremonies.

The stands were packed with roaring wizards, each with galleons and betting forms in their hands, many of them with pencils clumsily strewn across the broad brims of hats or tucked behind an ear. Smells assaulted the senses - boiled peanuts, butterbeer, the occasional whiff of popcorn and rock cakes mingled together to create a bizarre aura of carnival. And above all, the horses, hovering overhead as they awaited their orders, grooms angrily swatting pixies away from their mounts' tails.

( Heavily Warded Owl to Katie Jones )

Who: Harry Potter, Katie Jones
What: Harry comes over to bug Katie and feed the savage beast.
When: Saturday July 12, 2008 late afternoon
Where: Katie's Pawn Shop, London
Rating: PG, or PG-13 for their mouths.

The packages were tucked under Harry's arm, one of them opened because he'd taken one of the chocolate covered biscuits and munched on it, but had decided they were far too sweet and processed for him. So instead, he was eating cheese puffs which were neon oranged and obviously far less processed by that reasoning. He passed the Pawn shop a few times while he was looking for it, but once he did, he understood why. The name of the place was crammed into a small grubby sign over the door, and though the windows were filled with peculiar items, the windows were dingy and dust covered.

He tried the door not once, but twice, nearly falling over himself into the shop when it gave. "Hello?" he called and then was immediately distracted by a peculiar looking lamp, like one of the ones from Arabia. He rubbed it with his sleeve for good measure.

Who: Harry Potter and Katie Jones
What: Katie is having a week of random. An unlikely pair meet on a garbage ship on the Thames when Harry decides he needs a new couch and Katie goes looking for a very special object.
When: Thursday, July 10, 2008 Afternoon
Where: Thames, London
Rating: PG-13, for their filthy filthy mouths.

On a summer day off the Thames, when the heat was so thick it rose from the river in waves, all you could smell was the garbage. That was especially true when one was standing on a barge, staring up at a tower of it, as she picked bits of flotsam and sewer from hair dyed to a patchwork that blended in with the foil and plastic and trash. Katie knelt down, examining a sudden flash, then found that it was nothing more than an old antenna. Grabbing it, she stabbed at a piece of paper with the tip, plucking it from the ground and glancing at the crudely smudge of lipstick on the edges.

The perfume smelled worse than the refuse.

"Fuck..." She tossed it away, then stabbed at another pile indiscriminately without looking. It was too hot to think, much less function.
( Better bloody digging than using an Accio Flesh - oh, BUGGER. )

Who: Katie Jones and Open
What: More random encounters!
When: Wednesday, July 9, late at night
Where: Art toilet near the River Thames, London
Rating: PG for language, minimum - could, of course, go higher
Status: Open; in progress

It was mirrored on the outside.

That was, perhaps, Katie considered, the most disturbing part of the new public toilet they'd situated outside the Tate - the mirrored walls and the prostitutes who, this late at night, were leaning around it, adjusting makeup and underwear as high heels clacked lazily. One of them banged against the wall. "Who's in there, love? It true that you can see out of it?" She noticed that the woman pressed her eye against the mirrors right before flashing them.

With a sigh, she glanced down at her watch. Information. She'd been promised a lead on Borgin's needle, an item that he had stressed repeatedly was of paramount importance. But why her contact had thought fit to meet her here, she wasn't certain. Though, glancing at a redhead tugging her skirt up rather than down, Katie considered that she had an idea on the subject.

Who: Katie Jones and Hugh Scarisbrick [NPC]
What: Just a scene from Katie’s past
When: Summer 2006
Where: Ely, England
Rating: PG for language
Status: Closed; complete

It was hot. It was hot and she was sticky with sweat and fish oil, her hands coated with eight hours’ work. Katie banged at the door with her elbow, her arms full of shopping bags, then waited. Moments passed, with no response. Irritated, she dropped the shopping on the stoop and unlocked the door.

( Hugh’s face spelled hope as she looked at it and her heart lept into her throat as she realized what it had to be. )

Who: Rabbit Tuor and Katie Jones
What: A random, though not chance, encounter.
When: Sunday, July 6 (Backdated)
Where: London, England
Rating: PG for language
Status: Closed; complete – sorry this is so long, y’all

Part two of two

Her foot took a step closer, then shied back as the rocking of the train pushed her away. Catching herself on the handle, Katie slowly lowered herself until she was sitting on the floor again, the ground a few feet below them both, grass blurring into a line of continuous green as they moved through the country. She would have liked to hug him as he told her that and she realized with a sudden shock that only the jolting of the train had prevented it. Folding her arms over her chest, she kept watching the dirt, staring at the pebbles that kept flying up and smacking her legs.

( Is this an adventure? )

Who: Rabbit Tuor and Katie Jones
What: A random, though not chance, encounter.
When: Sunday, July 6 (Backdated)
Where: London, England
Rating: PG for language
Status: Closed; complete – sorry this is so long, y’all

Part one of two

She woke up to the ringing of her mobile, heavy in the pocket of the sweatshirt now damp with dew. The sky was just beginning to break, faint rays of light poking through the clouds in an area so grey that it was hard to tell whether or not night had ever existed. The woman's fingers slipped inside her pocket and snapped the phone open, staring at the number. It was followed by a text, then a clapping as the case closed.

Her toes wiggled, cracking spots of brilliant green where the nails peeked around the leather of her sandals. With a yawn, she kicked them off, tugging them into her hand and pushing down on the cold concrete to wake herself.

The trains stopped running at around three, began again at five-thirty, and it was their absence that told her the time. Curling up into the bench, she watched the few figures that lingered near the station doors, like ghosts moving across the streets, her slowly awakening eyes finding them ephemeral against the faltering light of the morning, cut as it was by streetlamp and shadow. Her fingers flexed, feeling the cold against them, and she pushed herself up straighter, slapping her face just slightly to force a bit of energy into it.

( You can be alone in your head, but be in the middle of the world... )

( Mysterious, unmarked, brown-paper wrapped parcel sent to Nicolas Vaisey )

Who: Katie Jones and Lavender Brown
What: A rival gang of the Network try and take Katie and Lavender down. In the posh part of town, for added wtf.
Where: St. John's Wood, London
When: Sunday 6th July, 'round noon
Rating: Ummm...R?
Status: Open; incomplete

Lavender crossed her arms over her chest, fingers pulling her coat closed. It was cold and it was raining, albeit barely but it was still there. The skies were grey and she glared mildly up at them, stamping her feet slightly on the pavement. Her boots, broken and old as they were, made a noise like a ball was trapped in them and she wrinkled her nose down at them, promising herself she'd buy new boots the next time she had money to use as she pleased.

This part of town was odd to her. Whenever she was in London, Lavender didn't tend to haunt this kind of place, the kind of place doctors and lawyers lived, the kind where parents sent their children to private schools, Eton, and other assorted boarding schools. The houses were clean, with no windows put through, and no blinds were drawn, the windows left thrown open so anybody walking by could pause and gaze in jealously at the furnishings inside which spoke of affluence. She was used to the dirtier, seedier parts of town, where people thought nothing of crass language and every other house was boarded up. No one flaunted what riches they might have, because they were guaranteed to be stolen. The contrast was stark and she wasn't entirely sure she liked this part of London. It made her feel a little less.

Hearing a familiar step behind her, Lavender lifted her voice slightly, speaking softly as she said, "You know something? I'm not really sure I'd give my bloody right arm to live here. Maybe a toe or something, but nothing major, you know? It's so fucking odd here, like stepping through the looking glass."

Who: Rabbit Tuor, Katie Jones, Vi Marlowe and OPEN
What: On the way to a Swivenhodge match in Leominister, the broom breaks down.
When: July 5, afternoon
Where: On the road to wizarding Leominister
Rating: PG for language, at least
Status: Open; in progress


"Goddamn bloody buggering sodding broom!" Katie kicked the handle as she stood on the grass, practically crying from frustration as she stood there, her fists clenched. The Cleansweep had gasped its last, it seemed, as it rested on the grass, completely inert, the straws not even twitching in response to the impact.

Her head craned. There was nothing in this part of England - nothing but cows and roads and no cars to be seen anywhere upon them. It's like breaking down in the Middle Ages, the woman thought to herself, blowing a strand of black hair from her face with an irritated sigh. She clenched her fists, then picked up the broom, slinging it over her shoulder.

"I'll bloody walk if I have to!" She shouted at the sky. As if it made a difference.

It began to rain, dark, heavy drops plinking against her head and Katie opened her palm, holding it flat to watch them fall. Hail. Wincing, she propped the broom over her head and began to walk underneath with a long sigh.

Who: Fionn Carpathian and Katie Jones
What: Passing information.
When: July 4, night
Where: The London Eye
Rating: PG for language, at least
Status: Open; in progress

Katie tugged her coat over her shoulders, the thick black wool strange in the middle of the muggy London night. Blonde whisps of hair fell across her shoulders and she wondered whether Carpathian would be able to pick her out with the slight change in her appearance and the stooped way in which she was walking, a wound still healing jagged. It suited her - it was a good disguise that contrasted with her usual exterior.

Glancing down at her watch, then up at the lit cars that were slowly rocking overhead, she wondered how long before Carpathian was caught. Passing information from the Department of Mysteries wasn't exactly the way to preserve a long, healthy life.

( Owl to Katie Jones )

Who: Anthony Goldstein and Katie Jones
What: Anthony gets a patient for his clinic.
Where: The clinic in Goldstein's flat
When: Saturday, June 28, the middle of the night
Rating: TBD, probably some language involved, violence
Status: Open; in progress

( If I should fall from grace with God...where no doctor can relieve me... )

Who: Theo Nott and Katie Jones
What: A not-so-very-chance meeting.
When: June 25, night
Where: La Scala, a lost theatre in Brixton
Rating: PG for present tense.
Status: Closed, complete

Headlights glitter across the windows behind the woman as she walks, her shadow breaking the beams that follow her. With a shrug, Katie tugs the back of her hooded sweatshirt over her head as she turns into the alley, keeping her light hair from catching the light as it tries to stalk her. A slip and a half-step and she'll be nearing the street on which she suspects she'd find the man she's looking for.

A window above her opens and the sound of harsh syllables floats across the alley. She takes advantage of the distraction to make another turn as car doors open and slam behind her. Her trainers press down in the mud, feet slam into a puddle, the squishing sound of the sole echoing in her ears as she started to run. Her breath catches, then quickens, as she whips around another corner, her hair flying from the hood.

Palms flattening against an unknown door, she slips inside an empty building, eyes lifting as she sees the height of the ceilings, cobwebs drifting down against her face. A faint cough escapes her mouth. Her head turns to examine the place that she's come.

( I don't do trust well. )