hestia jones will burn you. (imjonesing) wrote in unforgivenrpg, @ 2010-08-24 17:04:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, 2000-08, c: hestia jones, type: narrative |
rp log: hestia
Who: Hestia Jones.
When: 24 August, late afternoon
Where: A wooded area a few miles north of Tintagel, Cornwall
Rating: G
Warnings: N/A
Summary: Hestia is anxious for her meeting with Proudfoot tomorrow.
The small fire crackled merrily despite the dampness that hung in the air. It was only half four, but it would dark soon thanks to the dense trees that crowded out the sunlight. A fine drizzle had been falling for most of the day, but it finally stopped and left a thick mist in its place. Hestia was crouched in front of the flames, her cloak wrapped tightly around her. Her thick, dark hair was a cloud of wavy frizz thanks to the rain and several days without a real bath. The bottom of her black cloak had begun to fray and she couldn’t be bothered to fix it. The jeans she was wearing were spotted with dirt and sported a rip in the knee. All of this, combined with Hestia’s handmade rotisserie currently holding a fish, must have given her the appearance of a wild woman.
The fish was something Hestia was rather proud of, actually. While she and Megan could easily steal non-perishables from Muggle shops, they had no way to keep meat and produce. Besides, it was too much of a hindrance to carry it around with them. They had been traveling next to a small river for several days on their journey south, and every day Hestia tried her hand at fishing to no avail. But today, as she stood in water up to her shins, her pants rolled up, poised with a sharpened stick ready to attack, she had managed to actually catch one. It wasn’t huge, but a little meat would be better than none. Now the slippery bastard was cooking with a satisfying sizzle.
Behind Hestia stood a tiny, shabby Muggle tent. It had been impossible to find someone safe who would still have access to a wizard tent. It was small and dank and didn’t really keep all of the wet out, but it was better than nothing. When Hestia had left the abandoned house and Healer after the last battle, she hadn’t any idea where she was going. Returning to London seemed to not be an option, but after her brief conversation with and invitation from Tonks, it seemed that maybe living in a flat was possible. It was a relief to her that tomorrow she’d be meeting with Cal. It gave her something to do, a goal to accomplish. The journey from Shropshire to Tintagel had taken a couple of days as Hestia liked to alternate Apparition with moving on foot, but now they were just a few miles away from the castle’s ruins and could make it there within a couple of hours. She had missed Proudfoot, her mentor and (former) colleague and comrade in the war. Seeing another familiar face would be a huge relief. It would be another step toward regrouping and fighting back again.
She reached forward and poked at the fish with her finger. It was tender. She lifted the long bar of the spit off of its base and slid the fish onto a flat stone that she had washed with the river water. Tomorrow. And things would be better. “Megan, dinner!”