Percival I. Weasley (ohweatherby) wrote in unloading_zone, @ 2010-10-23 19:01:00 |
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Entry tags: | euan abercrombie, percy weasley |
Who: Euan and Percy
Where: Along some random dirt path
When: Saturday afternoon
What: Percy hears the town-crier crying out falsehoods.
Status/Rating: Incomplete, low
Percy knew he had to smell retched. After pulling thorny weeds from the sides of the path, his shirt was soaked in sweat and his jeans were covered in a mixture of dirt and sand that stubbornly refused to be brushed off the denim. His island-work was much more physical than anything he had ever had to do in his whole entire life. De-gnoming the garden for mum had only required a swish and flick from his wand. Pulling weeds without his wand on this island? Required getting down on his knees under a sun that ignored the fact it was supposed to be Autumn.
Tired to the bone and sweat-soaked, Percy had every intention of going home, showering, and spending the rest of his Saturday curled up with a book. The prospect of cold water kept his aching knees moving. Nothing, especially not the sight of another weed, would stop him. He was done with work. Clocking out for the day. That was it.
But when he heard someone cry out from behind him, "FREAK SNOW BLIZZARD ON THE WAY! HAILSTORMS AND SNOWFLAKES! IT'LL BE RAINING DOGS AND CATS!" Percy couldn't help but turn around and frown.
"I beg your pardon?"