James Andrew Bond (unbreakablebond) wrote in wishgranted_rpg, @ 2013-06-08 14:13:00 |
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Entry tags: | james bond (unbreakablebond), nymphadora tonks (trippingtonks) |
WHO: NymphadoraTonks(trippingtonks) and James Bond (unbreakablebond)
WHAT: a conversation
WHERE: by the campfire
WHEN: the night of Day 13
WARNINGS: probably none
STATUS: ongoing and open to anyone who wishes to wander by
Think of your own faults the first part of the night when you are awake, and the faults of others the latter part of the night *
The night was peaceful, bereft of the noises that constituted the background of the modern world, i.e. cars and planes, the squabbles and petty arguments of the inhabitants, deceit and mayhem, and the overly loud bassline of a car so inundated with rap that it fairly vibrated, making one wonder how those inside didn't suffer from permanent deafness.
Nights like these were few and far between in James' line of work. Not that he was complaining, mind you. He lived for what he did - for Queen and for country. But at the same time, he could appreciate the momentary lull between assignments, which is what he considered this to be. Was he going to go back? Was there really a choice there? Of course he was. No matter how mad he might be at M - and yes, her last words were still ringing in his ears - he also knew he could not and would not hold that grudge forever. Not when his country and his queen no doubt needed him, as they had these many years. What else could he do but obey?
In the background, he thought he heard the soothing sounds of Holmes' violin. He considered seeking him out for more conversation. The man was highly intelligent, as well as interesting. Was that Silas' harmonica he heard as well? He couldn't be sure.
He moved closer to the campfire. The flames were almost hynoptic; they danced before his eyes. A drink sounded good right about now. Too bad he didn't have one. At a rustling sound, he turned his head, watching as a pink-haired figure emerged from the shadows. He recognized her, of course. Even if he didn't know her face, the hair was a dead giveaway. Her name was Tonks, he remembered that as well.
"Good evening," he greeted her. "Getting a breath of fresh air?" A joke, of course. They were surrounded by nothing but fresh air. Well, and trolls and wraiths and other things that go bump in the night.