Regulation and Control

Who: Nathan Branwalder, Finn MicGill (open to anyone else who may be around, showing up, whatever)
What: Big brother comes to help
Where: Stapleford Abbotts, home of the Holden kids + Finn + Kitties
When: Early evening (5-ish), Sunday, 20th July
Rating: PG-13
Status: Open;Incomplete

A deep red '69 Fastback pulled up the driveway through the trees which largely shielded the property from the road a half mile back. It'd been close to a year since Nate had made the trek down here, usually keeping up north himself and seeing hid younger siblings at their parents' house. The night before, though, Ford had called him and told him Fred was missing. Nate must have growled into the phone for a good five minutes before realising he'd snapped it in his hand. Once a new phone was found he'd controlled himself and gotten information. It had been right before sunset, something he assumed was done on purpose so he could work out most of his fury, which was generally how his worry liked to masquerade. Once he'd woken up Nate had hopped into his car and headed down to Essex, breaking more than a few speed limits on the way.

Out from the car came a towering man. Six-foot-two and very possibly made of muscle. Somehow the red trilby and the loud, red printed shirt looked at home on Nate's frame. He looked more criminal or thug than anything else. Listening carefully, he was sure there was no one outside so he went to the door and rang the bell, wondering if any of them were even home at the moment. Ford knew he was going to be here, though possibly was expecting him closer to sunset. Eventually someone would show up, though.

Who: Trent Smith and Euphemia Borage
What: Pen is understandably stressed and comes to find Fred in hopes of comfort. Fred isn't found. Comfort will probably be amiss as well.
Where: Trent's house
When: Sunday evening, July 13
Rating: TBA
Status: Closed; Inomplete

“Moxie?” Silence. “Gamma?” Sharp claws dug into Trent’s hand and he hissed, “Alright, not Gamma - bloody hell, let go. Maverick?”

“Ow! Do you want me to declaw you, you beast?” He glared at the cat and pulled his hands away before flopping over onto his back on the grass, his head still turned and staring into its bright blue eyes. There was no way in hell he was looking away first, it was a sign of weakness. And Trent was not subservient to a house cat. “You’re fucking vicious as - oi, that’s it. Sid?”

No claws.

“Sid, then.” He tilted his head to the side and nodded in approval. “It suits.” The small cat began purring softly and licking at the cuts it had inflicted only seconds before. Trent sighed and let his hand flop to the ground, “But don’t think I’m forgetting that, you manic beastly stray.”

Who: Trent Smith and Lavender Brown
What: Badgering. But without badgers. Woe.
Where: Diagon Alley
When: 8th July, afternoon
Rating: TBR
Status: Open; incomplete

Diagon Alley was never as busy straight after lunch as it was during the rest of the afternoon and for that Lavender was extremely grateful as she walked down the street, her steps quicker than just about everybody elses on the street. It really wasn't her fault that everybody seemed to move at a snail's pace, though that was a slight exaggeration. But only a slight one, she decided, as she stepped around a small group in suits with collars so tight it looked they were trying to strangle themselves with them.

Ducking into the doorway of the nearest apothecary, Lavender avoided tripping over what looked like a box of body parts, though she was sure that only because she'd spent the night watching far too many horror movies for one person's own good, and walked up the counter, smiling widely in greeting. "Okay, so what's the best potion to use to make vegetable gardens grow that's not going to make me gag everytime I open it?" she asked. "That's a rather large problem, you know. I don't know if anybody's ever told you lot but most of the potions in this joint smell a bit funky."

Who: Fred Holden, Ford Williams, cameos by Trent Smith and Julian Holden
What: Lazy kittens
Where: The lawn of the Holden home
When: May, 1988, a day in the middle of the full moon cycle
Rating: G
Status: Closed; Complete

( Hours later they scented the air in unison. Once. Twice. )

Who: Fred Holden & Trent Smith
What: Sibling love (i.e. Fred gets yelled at)
Where: Their house, Stapleford Abbotts
When: Evening, 3 July
Rating: PG?
Status: open; Incomplete

The night before Fred had apparated home and collapsed in a heap. She'd had Ford set her arm so it could heal properly and he'd set her up in a sling. She'd done her best to keep the fact it was a break, and a fucking hell of one at that, from Daria and sent her into the office. She was sure the thing was injured enough it wouldn't be back for a while. Daria would be safe there and Fred would check on her later tonight. She, unfortunately, needed the human away from her so she wouldn't know how badly Fred was hurt and how quickly she'd heal from it without having seen Goldstein.

Fred was out on the lawn. The sun was high so she was naturally napping in it, having skipped the work thing entirely today. Her arm was still in the sling and her good arm was flopped over her face. More for the sake of anyone who didn't live there who may wander near, Fred wore the smallest cut off tank she owned and a pair of knickers. They were both a pale grey colour and did nothing to distract from the massive purple bruises that littered her body. Her right side, her shoulders, a fair bit of the back she was currently laying on, her entire left arm and even part of her chest was adorned with the angry, purple marks from having been beaten with the impromptu iron clubs. The cuts from the glass were healed. Though, part of the problem was that she needed someone to come home to cut the back of her right shoulder open and dig out a piece of glass her skin had healed over. It cut into her whenever she moved the wrong way when laying down and so she'd tried her best to just not move if she was on her back. The sun helped, though. It kept her warm and happy and in that state where a person is sleeping just enough for it to be restful but not enough to not be aware of what's going on around them. It helped her ignore the insane ow factor that was going on as well.

Who: The kittens (Fred, Trent and Ford)
What: Lap stealing and Trent's lack of quickness
Where: The kitty cottage, Stapleford Abbotts
When: Tuesday evening, 10 June
Rating: PG
Status: Narrative;Complete
Notes: This is mostly Ruth's fault as I was talking to her when the initial thought struck me and then she encouraged me to actually write a narrative just to use it.

( Like a Dwarf? )

Who: Fred Holden, Finn McGill, Trent Smith, Ford Williams
What: Wolfgirl meets Catgirl (And catboys)
Where: Epping Forest
When: Full Moon, early hours of Wednesday, 21st May until just after dawn
Rating: PG
Status: Closed; Complete

( Fred both loved and loathed the actual night of the full moon )

Who: Trent Smith, Ford Williams
What: The dangers of going up with four legs and only have two to get down
Where: The Holden Home
When: 7th August, 1990
Rating: G
Status: Drabble;Complete

"Uh...Mum?" The small boy's voice called out but there was no answer. "Dad?!" Again no answer came.

( Trent clung to the trunk of the tree he'd climbed up the night before. )

Who: Fred Holden, Malcolm Baddock, general existence of Ford & Trent since they live there and all.
What: Mal has questions
Where: Fred's cottage, Stapleford Abbotts
When: Late Afternoon, Sunday, 13th April
Rating: PG for language
Status: Closed; Complete

Fred has this amazing rock-like quality to her stomach's feeling since Malcolm asked to talk to her because he had questions. She couldn't really think of any questions she'd mind answering since he already knew the one thing she didn't want to share in the first place. It probably was no big deal, but he had something he could hold over her head. She thought Malcolm wasn't the kind to blackmail, but she'd been wrong about people before. Unfortunately scent didn't tell you everything you needed to know about a person.

She had the sense to put on clothing because nudity made humans really uncomfortable, but she didn't put on a whole lot. She was curled up in Trent's lap on the couch in nothing more than a cut off tank top and boyshort knickers. The boys had both been forced into shorts by time the knock came on the door. Fred tried to get up but Trent kept hold of her while Ford got up to answer the door.

At 5'11" he wasn't what a person would call intimidating, but there was a dominance to him that a person couldn't quite ignore. The cottage was small, three bedrooms upstairs and only a kitchen, living room and bathroom downstairs, but it looked comfortable. It had pictures and books everywhere, and seemingly refusing to be bound by the conventions of bookcases and walls. "Malcolm?" was all he said when Ford opened the door to find a dark-haired stranger standing on the other side.

Who: Fred Holden, Trent Smith, & Ford Williams
What: A Sibling Sleep Over
Where: Either side of the wall on Leaden Hall St
When: 1 am, 7th April
Rating: G
Status: Closed; Complete

( Experimentally Fred pawed at the wall. Thankfully nothing happened but it didn’t do much. Her head cocked to the side a moment later as her ears rotated so they pointed toward the wall to hear better. )

Who: Any who stayed the night at Zwemmer's, and any who enter this morning
Where: Zwemmer's bookstore, wizarding London
When: April 6th, early morning
What: Yuri stays in the shop the night with the others, and wakes the next morning.
Rating: TBD, could go high for violence, etc.
Status: OPEN; in progress.

The sounds of riot outside thankfully did not bring people close to the windows very often, though objects had occasionally been thrown or tossed up against them during the night. They were very likely charmed, since a metal wheel from someone's street cart hadn't made a scratch on it. The doors were open, though, and the knowledge had kept Yuri waking on the hour. If Zach had returned during the night, Yuri had not noticed him. The girl was curled next to him, his jacket beneath her head. He'd tucked his hands into his sleeves and wrapped his arms around himself, resting his head on a very large index of Potions ingredients. If anyone needed to cross-reference the ingredients to a Cheering Charm, they'd first have to wake him up.

Around five o'clock in the morning, Yuri's eyes opened slowly. He'd forgotten who all had come in that night and he sat up, leaning dazedly against the bookshelf next to him. One yawn; two. Then a scraping sound from across the room woke him up. The shadows of the room seemed to have condensed in one spot, shaping into the form of a man. It breathed, or crackled, or made some strange, rhythmic noise that made the hairs on the back of Yuri's neck stand on end. A spirit?

Yuri, keeping his eyes on the creature, very slowly reached his hand around to Clare's face- he did not touch her, but he shielded her eyes if she should wake up. He did not know that he was not breathing, his whole body tensed like a taut bowstring.

The creature moved- it's entire body was shadow, formless, light absorbing, so Yuri could not tell if its head had turned to look at him or what had happened. Then the head fluttered like a black curtain, and Yuri could see forms moving in it like bodies through smoke and fog or reflections in droplets of oil. Moving very slowly, too shocked to tremble, Yuri withdrew a short, slender piece of white chalk from his pocket and began to draw on the floor, murmuring clumsily in antiquated Russian.

In between the muttering of the ward, Yuri's voice cracked into whispers, "Sviat, sviat, sviat ghospod... savaoff..." Holy, holy, holy Lord... God of power and might.

The creature slid suddenly along the bookcases, it's black legs moving like lines drawn by a child. One of its hands clutched a wand. The door opened, and it hissed like vapor into the night.

Yuri leapt up and followed after it, sliding the lock firmly shut on the front door to the shop.

Who: All characters inside the wizarding district of Mathwall (note: this district borders a muggle area on the west and part of that area will be included)
Where: Zwemmer's bookstore, wizarding London
When: April 5, late at night
What: Zach suggests in his journal that people gather in the bookstore and try to make a plan from there.
Rating: TBD, could go high for violence, etc.
Status: OPEN; in progress.

"Can I write my name on my foot too?" Zach glanced away from the window as he heard Clare's voice, low and quiet as it ever was.

"Sure, go the fuck ahead. Why?"

"What if my hands fall off?" Her eyes were concerned as she held them in front of her. Green skin shimmered in the faint light of the candles he'd lit. "They're green. Like mold. Don't zombies go green? Then rot? Then their arms fall off?"

"Your arms aren't going to fall off," he said. "Look at the Jolly Green Giant. Or Shrek. Or the motherfucking Hulk. Think you're probably good." His head turned back to the window, pressing against the glass as he waited to see if anyone had gotten the message. The bookstore was quiet - he'd chosen it for that reason. It seemed safer.

Who: All characters in the shops and streets near the wall.
Where: Mathwall, wizarding London
When: April 5, 13:30
What: A charm bomb, a device previously unknown to the wizarding world, goes off, trapping several people in a six-block radius in Mathwall
Rating: TBD, could go high for violence, etc.
Status: OPEN; in progress.

"Something's happened!" A woman ran into the tiny shop and screamed. The small group of shoppers assembled in the area, pricked their ears, some of them paying attention, others still milling around the wares, examining the strange and assorted objects that rested in the shop's corners. With a groan, the shopkeeper finally pushed the shoppers out.

"Get on with you! Go see what she's about." A crowd of people began to filter out, flooding the doors en masse before the flood suddenly halted. It was quickly obvious what she had been screaming about. The horizon had disappeared.

It was as if these few streets of Mathwall had been cut off from the rest of London and in fact, the world. A tall wall began to shimmer, rays of sun glinting off its exterior as it sparkled. Others on the street appeared to have noticed it as well - bodies were stopping, staring at the world as if it had been made new, the environment suddenly hushed as if the populace was in a state of collective shock. Which they were.