Caradoc D. Dearborn (infit_caradoc) wrote in sic_infit, @ 2009-08-10 12:24:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | character: caradoc dearborn, character: remus lupin, place: order safe house, time: august 1999 |
Characters: Caradoc Dearborn and Remus Lupin
Date: August 10, 1999
Location: Safe House (den)
Rating: PG
Summary: Caradoc is attempting to tune a new guitar, and Remus drops in.
Status: Complete
After the Malfoy party, Caradoc had returned to the Safe House in a surprisingly good mood on Saturday morning. He could almost have been described as 'giddy' if someone had seen the way he was grinning when he went and had a shower, and the way he had hummed and whistled to himself when he went to his room to relax and have a bit of private breakfast. His moon calmed down as Saturday had progressed, but he was still oddly lighter in disposition through Sunday.
Now Monday morning, the giddiness and oddly bubbley happiness had waned off. He hadn't turned into a miserable sod, but the worries of the time and his own over-thinking brain had finally re-emerged from the bright, happy haze he had allowed himself to be lost in. He was now concerned over the knowledge he had about Gellert Grindlewald's escape and what exactly could be done to track and contain a man as powerful as him. He had managed though, so far, to not stew over what his brain wanted to stew over, which was Hestia. He had managed to keep that over-analyzing part of his brain rather silent and wasn't allowing it to turn what had happened on Friday night into something to fret over.
Having learned nearly immediately upon moving into the Safe Houe that it was best to stay out of heavy traffic zones unless wanting to get stuck in the middle of something, Caradoc had retreated to one of his more favourite rooms in the house, the den. Up on the second floor, away from the main living areas, the room was large, inviting and quite casual. Caradoc sat on couch in the far corner, and set himself down with a new purchase laid across his lap.
The guitar was used, but it was much like the one that had gotten lost in his constant travels around Europe and Asia. The last place he remembered having it was Naples. Now that he was settled, and having been blinded by a good mood, he had tapped into what he had of his own personal savings and went and bought himself the instrument. Hobbies were hard to come by when in hiding.
He plucked at the strings as he turned the tuning pegs on the head, trying to tune the instrument by ear. He was rusty, and he made a few faces as he over-compensated and turned the peg too far, making the note hit very flat. Another reason he had chosen the den; people wouldn't have to hear him.