03. Girly drinks and parlor games [open]

[bespectacle]

CHARACTERS: Harry Potter, William Tsang, Mystique, & You
LOCATION: Sundry
WARNINGS: Spontaneous bleeding, language, etc.
SUMMARY: Encapsulating the May modplot, Harry Potter's grief at losing his mother (again), Mystique's post-murder shimmy and William Tsang's final days of soullessness.
NOTES: Let me know if you want me to make a starter and I will!


Harry Potter | Rec Rooms, Kitchens, etc.

[Secretly, Harry cries a lot.

Head under the pillows usually, in the privacy of his room. Sometimes though he winds up idiotically snuffling over pancakes and something goes wrong when he tries to catch up the recipe with his wand and ends up chewing through breakfast food that's gritty and sour.

Mostly, he's got a stiff British upper-lip focuses on keeping himself distracted. Learning more about Engineering's functions, browsing the library for video/games, bothering his uncles a bit, about meeting Sirius' dozen or so lady friends and swinging by Remus to check how them moon phases are going. He takes over Professor Snape's garden, and forgets about passing Crookshanks on to Cat (although were to be totally honest with himself it's less forgetting and more that the cat, lower-case, becomes a comfort in these early days).

Harry practices combat magic in the gym. Sends the Reductor curse flashing down empty corridors, more civilized practice of Stupefying spells and Jinxes into dummies in the rec room. You might catch him flying a little, mostly in the garden, riding over treetops with a moody face that breaks promptly when he hears you say hi.]

William Tsang | Heather Mason's Room

[The first patients have already cycled through the Medical Bay, painkillers prescribed in safe-enough doses. Whoever figured out the real cure deserves a hug, but William and Heather, at least, are otherwise preoccupied.

Under the tented blankets, the room lights come through just dimly. The blanket fort is very handsome, warm, spacious enough that they can be knee to knee. And also have hot toddies, though some has splashed already. Ned's got Takeshi in the gardens, William's next shift isn't for an hour. He hasn't been completely sure she's got her soul back, but she seems different-- probably because the difference between Heather-with-soul and Heather-without is a great deal bigger than these conditions are for William. (Or so he'd like to believe.)]

First things first, [he says, teacup balanced on his belly. Smiling, which is easier with her, even in absence of Prof. Snape anymore.] What the fuck is going on with the dozens of new blokes named after countries yammering on the fucking network? Do you know all them, too?

Mystique | Flight Deck, Passenger Quarters, etc.

[You know what's maybe weird.

A cyan blue lizard woman wearing protective flight area gear while she's jammin' out to Spunes on her comm device with a giant noise-cancellation headset clamped around her sleek, red-haired head is maybe weird. It's an oddly immediate return to the norm, with which she performs maintenance on the shuttles and the docking bays and the surface of the ship; like a housecat who finally got to stretch the claws on something alive, reset the timer on that particular itch, and it's napping on the couch in front of Meerkat Kingdom for the next while. Per our last network missive, few if any know what became of the artist formerly known as Marcus.

The fucking earbleed catches her by surprise.

She wrenches the audio-set off her head with a single, fluid motion of her arm, hurls it across the floor with more strength than she'd meant. Drops her hose, fortunately already off. The metamorph winds up doubled over, her hands clamped over her head and teeth gritted. Her hair shocks blonde for an instant-- then black-- short-- strings long, the musculature of her shoulders writhing like snakes.

After that, it's not incredibly long before she's dragging her somewhat sorrier ass to Medical Bay, then Xenogen, inquiring irritably but casually after the whereabouts of her brother. There is also a swimming pool incident, early on, in which she emerges sputtering less elegantly than she's usually wont-- having determined pretty unequivocally that freestyle doesn't help.]

Comments

r u good to fade this one c:

[bespectacle]

[For one strange and bright moment, Cat really is a Disney princess. Festooned with birds, a bum-wiggling lion of a cat behind her, and a wizard boy grinning at her from across the grass.

In a few days time, she'll discover that the Gardens have some birds of their own-- sparrows, brought by elves from a long time ago. She'll receive gifts, small and dead and prettily bisected, but never more than the garden's native population of creatures can support.

Right now, though-- right now is when Crookshanks pounces. The birds erupt into a flurry of feathers and aggravated shrieks. Of course, the witch's familiar comes away with one struggling critter in his mouth, only to find it dissipates into nothing after one good shake. Harry is left laughing, shaking his head.]

It was nice to meet you, Cat.

done and done.

[testis]

It was nice to meet you too, Harry.

[And, despite her soullessness, she's smiling at him, giving him a laugh. He's nice, she's decided. Kind. He seems.. genuine. Of course, he's also Harry freakin' Potter. But.]

Come over and visit Crookshanks some time. I'm sure he'll like the company. [She's content to sit out here with her new cat, play the get to know you games.] I'll see you around.