|Stephanie Mariana Clarity Fawcett is quirky. (impermanence) wrote in wished,|
@ 2010-09-26 22:13:00
|Entry tags:||!2003: 09, !incomplete, irving bradley, stephanie fawcett|
WHO: Stephanie Fawcett and Irving Bradley
WHAT: Drastic Measures. Stephanie has finally had enough and insists he will go to a fitting for his dress robes.
WHEN: 4am Monday morning.
WHERE: Irving's house
STATUS: Incomplete // Closed
This was the only way. Even though she had hoped it wouldn’t come to this, Stephanie could not let it go on any longer. Her wedding was just over a month away, and Irving was going to be wearing dress robes whether he liked it or not. In the long nineteen years that she had known him, Irving had become, for all intents and purposes, her brother. It meant that it was that much more imperative that he looked nice. He was the Best Man for Merlin’s sake! She was going to be just as stubborn about this as he was. But she was going to give it an edge. Over her years of experience, she had learned that you had to use extremes on occasion. This was one of those occasions.
Certainly, she would have been a sight to see. It was no secret that she was passionate about her endeavors, and this was no different. From head to toe, she was dressed the part. Her first undertaking of the day had been in planning for about a week. She wanted it to go off without a hitch. While Stephanie was one of the world’s biggest advocates of spontaneity, she had been planning the wedding and she considered this to be a part of that preparation. Operation Get Irving In Dressrobes (GIID) was in action that morning. The petite witch stood in front of his house at an unorthodox time of the morning. The sun was not yet up, and he would be sound asleep. It was a dirty move, she would admit, but this was a desperate situation that called for drastic measures.
She blended into the dark of the night. Her black boots made no noise as she crossed the yard, approaching a window that threw her reflection back at her with the light of the moon. She was wearing black pants that were easy to move in, a long sleeved black shirt, and fingerless black gloves. A black knit hat was pulled down over her ears, and her dark chocolate hair was swept into two even pig-tails. She looked pale beneath the black war paint smeared across her cheeks. Her weaponry included her wand, a pair of hand-cuffs, an iron resolve, and (her best asset) her pout that could bring him to his knees.
Breaking and entering really wasn’t her forte. In fact, she’d never done anything like this before. She was on an adrenaline high as she unlocked the window that spilled into his living room and started to slowly push it open. It was extremely difficult to make as little noise as possible. She didn’t want to take the chance of waking him prematurely. When she pushed it open enough to slip through, she set about hoisting herself up through the window. It would not have been so bad if she hadn’t put a little too much enthusiasm into the move and sent herself tumbling head-first into the familiar room. She nearly kicked over a lamp in her efforts and laid wide-eyed in the floor momentarily, listening to make sure that there were not footsteps coming to check on the situation.
Pulling herself up, she straightened her clothes and the few things she had managed to turn askew during her entry. Closing the window, she very slowly crept down the hall. She looked suspiciously around as if he would know she was coming and be watching out for her. She was utterly prepared to chase him down and force his compliance. Stephanie was a woman on a mission, and she would not be defeated. The house was silent, however. The only sounds were her own footsteps and the ticking of a clock somewhere. She took no chances, tip-toeing around creaky spots in the floor and finally, she reached his bedroom door.
It was closed, but not locked. While still in the hall, she clamped one ring of the handcuffs around her wrist, wincing at the too-loud clicking. She held tightly to the other end so that it wouldn’t knock into anything unnecessarily, and delicately turned the door knob. She prayed the door wouldn’t creak as she opened it, and was pleased when it was smooth and quiet. The sound of his breathing, even and obviously asleep met her ears. Every move was very deliberate as she entered the room. For some reason, now that she had made it that far, she had the most insane and obnoxious urge to giggle. He wouldn’t be expecting this of all things. The only thing she worried about was scaring him and somehow getting herself hurt. But she pushed the thought far from her mind. Instead, she thought about how soon, she would have won, and he would have to go to the fitting. Finally. Irving Worthington Bradley IV...you’re going down, she thought.
Putting on the most serious face she could muster to prevent herself from laughing, she approached his bed and surveyed his position. She could get to his wrist without problem, much to her satisfaction. Stephanie stopped hesitating, taking the last few steps and gently picking up his wrist. She slid the metal around and clicked it into place, latching him to her with no obvious way of escape. A wide grin pulled up the corners of her lips, “I win,” she whispered softly.