Zach Smith (swk_zacharias) wrote in secrets_we_keep, @ 2014-06-17 09:58:00 |
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Entry tags: | june 2005, ongoing, susan bones, zach smith |
RP: Werewolf in London
Who: Zacharias Smith, OPEN
Where: London, Diagon Alley
When: 17 June, 2005
Rating: TBD
Status: Ongoing
Zach rolled his shoulders uncomfortably, feeling the ache deep in the muscles of his back. It had been a rough one last night, though better than the previous month. Not for the first time, Zach wished he knew one other person like him. Advice would be nice. There had to be a better way than what he was doing.
He probably shouldn't even be in London now. He hadn't dared try apparating; his magic was always a little wild and weird the day or two after a shift. The Floo at the Leaky had to suffice.
Stupid job. When Zach had taken the position at Nimbus, he'd imagined being left alone, holed up in a dark room, actually designing things. Foolish thought. Though he had no idea why the broom company insisted on him doing all the PR and interviews regarding the Infinity II. Well, he knew what their reasoning was. He had a Name. He had a History. He drew Attention. But once they'd seen how he dealt with the public, they probably should have reconsidered.
Zach dusted off his hands on the knees of his trousers, greeting the barkeep with a grunt as he strode directly for the back of the pub. No time for niceties, and a pint prior to an interview wasn't a great idea, no matter how nice one sounded. Tom flapped his towel at Zach, used to his winning personality.
Cracking his neck, Zach faced the brick wall and took a deep breath as he pulled his wand from his pocket. He frowned at his knuckles, which were scraped and bruised. He vaguely remembered his paws scrabbling at the stones of the family crypt. He'd wanted out so badly last night, probably a repercussion from running amok the month prior. The wolf had remembered the taste of freedom, and craved more. Zach couldn't allow it. He couldn't take the risk. He shook the thoughts free from his head, and tapped out the pattern on the bricks.
A few golden sparks flew, but the wall remained solid.
Goddamnit.
He tapped out the pattern again, a bit more forcefully this time. Nothing. With a growl, Zach made a fist around the handle of his wand, banging out the pattern a third time. When that yielded no result, he made a noise of frustration and slapped his palm against the wall.
Casting a baleful look back at the nearly empty pub, Zach stood indecisively at the wall. He really didn't want to ask for help.
He was going to be late for his meeting.