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Post by Maebh Breandan on Aug 5, 2010 1:52:20 GMT -5
Dust finally settled and the village people grumbled, still the strange wagon remained. A brightly colored, strangely alluring old fashion wagon appeared overnight in the middle of Hogsmeade Square. Those strange meandering gypsies had never had the gall to park their wagon so close before. For years the traveling magic folk would camp along the outskirts of Hogsmeade, always to themselves.
It was a new era and about time some rules were bent. Maebh, or V to her friends was not weary of outsiders like most of her people, well really the older generation. It was time to branch out to bigger dreams. Embrace the new century while still holding on to old traditions. Ignoring the familiar hills, V rode right in to town while everyone was asleep. The next morning she and her young sisters and cousins were ready to preform.
A splash they did make but not a very welcoming one. The large tire treads crushed the town flowers and they were rather in the way. After a quick negation V rented a vacant lot. Posters appeared everywhere exclaiming the wonders of the Fae.
Have problems with warts? Freckles, need to get rid of a toad? Stop on by the Travl'n Apothecary and get your fix from the world's best solutions.
Is your future cloudy? Have an unsettling feeling? Down right bored? Mae shall solve your problems.
It was getting dark, almost time for one last show. Maebh was getting tired. Aleen was sick and someone had to dance for the crowd. She was far to old to be twirling around, but it did bring n a pretty penny.
Dressed in her fortune teller garb with glittering multicolored scarves tired in her hair and around her chest, she lounged in the shade, waiting.
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The Fae
Aug 22, 2010 15:39:30 GMT -5
Post by sam on Aug 22, 2010 15:39:30 GMT -5
((OOC: You write beautifully, V.))
For the full length of High Street, Sam's boot kicked at a small, defenceless pebble, which bounced from cobblestone to cobblestone under the duress of the man's frustrations. Sam had just returned from London proper. He had looked high and low through Diagon Alley, ventured through Knockturn Alley, visited pubs, went through the back door of many questionable establishments, and held congress in several dark corners and vacant walkways.
For Merlin's sake.
Sam was a man of many contacts and yet despite this vast network of witches and wizards, the spellsmith had failed to find that which sent him searching in the first place: one vial of wartcap powder. Rarity was only part of the problem. The trickier aspect of the task was that the substance was illegal. Wartcap powder turned the skin of those who touched it in to a thick and impenetrable crust. For this reason, Sam was somewhat surprised when the Headmaster asked him for it; he never questioned why.
Sam's loyalty to the Headmaster and his desire to uphold the elder's wishes was what made his lack of success today so beastly. It kept him occupied on the defenceless pebble. It made him scowl uncharacteristically. He hadn't expected to fail in his search for the wicked powder and now here he was - his last vestige of hope - in the village where he began his journey earlier that morning. Hogsmeade.
Sam felt it a hopeless final effort. The one person in Hogsmeade who would have had such an item to begin with had moved on only a month or so ago to work at Hogwarts. And that was Sam himself. There was a time when he had over a dozen vials of wartcap in his cupboards, as it was necessary time and again for his consulting business.
Sam's pebble came to a stuttering halt against the base of a small brick 2-storey and the man quickly glanced up, taking in the empty windows and boarded-up doors. Had it been so brief a time since he left home? His sign was still there (BLACKsmith) as was the adjacent alley off of High Street in which he nearly lost his life. Sam unconsciously raised his hand to his temple and fell to memory in a relentless breeze that grabbed at his clothing.
I cannot help you. You've chosen not to help us, Mr. Black. I have. Wrong answer. Sam?
It was the crinkle and crack of parchment in the wind that finally broke him from his space.
Sam's eyes darted to a poster. Someone had dared to tack the parchment against his home and he grimaced at the audacity. He quickly tore it off to read. Vandals. He saw the colors before the content and instantly thought it obnoxious.
"'Mae shall solve your problems.' Yeah, I'm sure you will, Mae. No thanks." Sam started to crumple the poster in to a ball, looking around for any sign of the gypsies, whom he knew to usually station on the village's outskirts. Seeing nothing in the immediate area, he returned his focus to the destroyed parchment, catching for a split second another sentence which seemed to peak his interest.
"Travl'n Apothecary." Well now. That was something a little different. Sam knew gypsies. Some of his best contacts and a handful of his mates were of the "wayward variety," and while gypsies might not understand the indecency of putting posters on private property, they did understand the market. The black market, to be exact. And that was a very attractive prospect to the young Mr. Black at this moment.
"Sorry, love. I may have been too hasty." Sam de-crumpled the poster and read it more thoroughly, choosing to fold it neatly when he was finished. Perhaps his search for wartcap was not over: all he needed was to find the gypsy Mae. Sam slung his rucksack over his shoulder and proceeded down the street to where a group of villagers appeared to be milling in both mistrust and interest.
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The Fae
Aug 22, 2010 19:47:50 GMT -5
Post by Maebh Breandan on Aug 22, 2010 19:47:50 GMT -5
(thank you Boo)
The last rays of sun light crept around the corner of the buildings giving one last effort to destroy the coming twilight. Slowly a crowd began to form. Pitiful but it would do. Maebh couldn't help but offer a half smile at the gathering crowd. She, who had preformed in front of hundreds of people was doing a show to twenty off the backend of a wagon. Despite the small crowd and meek existence, Maebh could not complain. There was something about the simple, rustic life that enthralled her. For some reason she preferred campfires and dust to satin and gallons. Out here she called the shots, she was the star, the director, costume designer, writer, composer. Anything that was needed. There was no one to harp on her if she missed a note, or her character was not the way they had in envisioned. It was just her and her family.
Waiting, was never her strong suite. Where was her cousin Rafe? He'd left over half an hour ago to spread the word one last time. the Fae only preform on the weekends, focusing on the apothecary business on the weekdays with a few seer shows when requested. Daily performances was just too much unless a fair was going on with other travelers assisting. V was about to start without the nodd from Rafe when she spotted the tall man slinking towards the edge of the crowd.
With a wave of her wand, soft music began to play. Twlight had settled upon the area, setting a dreamy mood. Maebh quietly walked out on stage, head held high, saying nothing. She stood staring at the crowd, her feet resting near the edge of the stage, as if she would jump off, flying in the air at any second. Slowly the crowd quieted, mistrust and eagerness sharping the air.
"Rest in daytime, night is playtime, all good faeries know. So close your eyes and in good time you'll find a good time. So please do come and join in this fun, as we share this show." Maebh said softly, her voice carrying through the night, a smile on her face. At the end of her little speech she clapped twice and suddenly a hundred tiny lights appeared hovering over the audience. Torches burned on the side of the wagons, casting shadows over Maebh.
As the night progressed, V and her family told stories, sang songs, danced to wild fairy music and contorted their bodies into strange shapes. Afterwards a breathless V stepped onto the stage, alone once more. Her inky black hair flowed down her back free of her scarves. Dressed in white lace, she seemed to glow. " Now this is the story of Olaf Who ages and ages ago Lived right on the top of a mountain, A mountain all covered with snow.
And he was quite pretty and tiny With beautiful curling fair hair And small hands like delicate flowers-- Cheeks kissed by the cold mountain air.
He lived in a hut made of pinewood Just one little room and a door A table, a chair, and a bedstead And animal skins on the floor.
Now Olaf was partly fairy And so never wanted to eat; He thought dewdrops and raindrops were plenty And snowflakes and all perfumes sweet.
In the daytime when sweeping and dusting And cleaning were quite at an end, He would sit very still on the doorstep And dream--O, that he had a friend!
Somebody to come when he called them, Somebody to catch by the hand, Somebody to sleep with at night time, Somebody who'd quite understand.
One night in the middle of Winter He lay wide awake on his bed, Outside there was fury of tempest And calling of wolves to be fed--
Thin wolves, grey and silent as shadows; And Olaf was frightened to death. He had peeped through a crack in the doorpost, He had seen the white smoke of their breath.
But suddenly over the storm wind He heard a small voice pleadingly Cry, "I am a snow fairy, Olaf, Unfasten the window for me."
So he did, and there flew through the opening The daintiest, prettiest sprite Her face and her dress and her stockings, Her hands and her curls were all white.
And she said, "O you poor little stranger Before I am melted, you know, I have brought you a valuable present, A little brown fiddle and bow.
So now you can never be lonely, With a fiddle, you see, for a friend, But all through the Summer and Winter Play beautiful songs without end."
And then,--O she melted like water, But Olaf was happy at last; The fiddle he tucked in his shoulder, He held his small bow very fast.
So perhaps on the quietest of evenings If you listen, you may hear him soon, The child who is playing the fiddle Away up in the cold, lonely moon.
"Not everytime you hear a fiddle is it dear little Olaf but sometimes he can be heard when you least expect it. So go and be merry and if you happen to hear a tiling melody it might just be him.
Thank you for attending. The Apothecary is open everyday except for shows." She called out jumping off the stage as the crowd began to disperse. As everyone made to leave, a few lingered to offer their comments or buy tokens from Iris, V's niece. With a glance at the crowd, V began to take down a sign, reading the wagon for the night.
(the poem is not mine but katherine mansfield's.)
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The Fae
Aug 23, 2010 9:12:20 GMT -5
Post by sam on Aug 23, 2010 9:12:20 GMT -5
The crowd parted in front of Sam and for the first time since she left the stage, he could see the woman who had introduced herself only as Maebh. His ears caught the comments of the passersby and while grumblings still lingered about the state of the village's flowers, the temperature of the crowd had changed dramatically. Olaf seemed to have reminded everyone of their hospitality. A few couples even held hands. Soon, Sam was alone in front of the wagon.
He approached the woman slowly from behind so as not to frighten her. As he did, he pulled her neatly folded poster from his pocket.
"Congratulations. Your family is very talented. I haven't heard that tale since I was quite small. You tell it well."
"Can I ask, when do you open in the morning. Your apothecary?"
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The Fae
Aug 23, 2010 11:00:27 GMT -5
Post by Maebh Breandan on Aug 23, 2010 11:00:27 GMT -5
Lights flickered and voices traveled. A light, pleased smile teased V's lips forward as several comments drifted her way. She was satisfied with that night's performance. Carefully and with swift movements honed by years of practice, she folded the curtains that had draped the stage. The other members of her family who had come here with her were also doing their chores.
V was not surprised that someone approached her nor really was she worried. She sensed no threat from him. She glanced at him over her shoulder before turning around. A grin lit up her face when the man complimented her family.
"Thank you, who told you that story?" She asked pleased that she had touched upon something that was familiar to the area.
"7 am, What is it that you are looking for? I might be able to pull it for you tonight." She asked as she put the folded curtain in a trunk.
"The wagon also serves as the apothecary. If it takes root I'll rent a store front."
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The Fae
Aug 23, 2010 19:54:29 GMT -5
Post by sam on Aug 23, 2010 19:54:29 GMT -5
"My mum." Sam watched as Maebh expertly folded her items away. It was clear she had years of practice and he respected the systematic way she addressed her task. She was a steady drummer and he wagered that she was more than a little responsible for keeping everything on track. This was certainly the most organized group of gypsies he had ever encountered.
"I used to hear this noise at night; thought it was the Hag. Mum told me not to worry: it was merely Olaf on his fiddle, and I shouldn't be afraid. Turns out it was the Hag, but I didn't feel so alone after hearing the story."
Sam listened in as V offered after-hours access to the traveling apothecary. He scooped up a stray beaded curtain and handed it back to her, weighing how to proceed with his request. While it was true that many traveling families dealt in goods and wares outside of the norm, there was no way of knowing whether they risked selling more specialized products - illegal products - except to ask outright. He would pray to Merlin it wasn't a sting.
"I appreciate the offer. I'm looking for something somewhat rare. Do you have wartcap powder? Preferably the Murmansk pressing but I'll consider anything you have in that regard."
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The Fae
Aug 23, 2010 20:31:18 GMT -5
Post by Maebh Breandan on Aug 23, 2010 20:31:18 GMT -5
His mum. It was sweet, especially that a man omitted that his mum told him stories and he remembered them with fondness into adulthood. No sissy, afraid to share anything emotional here. V paused in her work as he wove his short tale.
"Olaf was the first story I learned to preform. I was seven and convinced I spotted him once. Had my little sister going for days." She shared, remembering the moment for a second. Gladly, V accepted the man's help. She was no so prideful that she would not accept work when offered. She put it in it's spot, making sure everything was in the trunk before locking that level for the next load. Over the years she had applied her schooling into making her family's wagon and show more efficient. There was not an ounce of wasted space.
Wartcap powered. What in the world did he need that for? V froze, half bent over, her blue eyes stared at the man, assessing. He did not seem to be the typical low life. He looked down right respectable and he knew the old tales. Slowly V straightened her eyes locked on the man as an internal debate commenced inside of her. To give him the powder or not? While she did not like dealing with the black market the outer edges of her family did dabble in the shadows a bit. Even V's hands were a bit smudged.
"For what purpose?" She asked her jovial tone gone. She was all business now.
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The Fae
Aug 23, 2010 22:53:42 GMT -5
Post by sam on Aug 23, 2010 22:53:42 GMT -5
Sam caught Maebh's liquid blue eyes with equal intensity, knowing that a failure to do so would end their business engagement right then and there. These were the rules of trade. If the transacting partner could not step up then there was nothing in the meeting but risk.
This particular exchange was full of risk, but not for such reasons. They had "connected," and Sam didn't even have the decency to lie. He was certain Maebh didn't either, which made them less business and more kin.
I have no idea why I need it.
"My purposes are my own but it is a substance I've long had experience handling. Safely."
Sam stepped closer, their space growing increasingly more private and guarded.
"And since you've asked why before saying no, I'll gather you transport it. For what purpose?"
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The Fae
Aug 26, 2010 17:36:04 GMT -5
Post by Maebh Breandan on Aug 26, 2010 17:36:04 GMT -5
Darkness enclosed the pair as the twinkling overhead "fairy" lights flew to their boxy home. The only source of light flickered from two torches standing watch on either side of the wagon. Shadows danced with the cool night air adding a tad of intimacy to the situation. Around them V's cousins and brother worked, barely glancing at the pair. Well barely pointedly glancing at them. One look and they knew it was business that kept Mae in one spot.
He was vague and it annoyed her slightly. He would not tell her what he was going to use it for. Was it for something harmful? Did he have malicious intent but was very charming and only fooling her? Or was her purchasing it for a mundane purpose? Perhaps he is just a messenger, a servant doing another's bidding. If so who is his master and what is their purpose. Maevh didn't have an a clue on how to answer the internal war going on inside of her. Her heart told her to trust the man but her brain was wary. What if he was a ministry puppet here to trap her. If so she she was already in the cauldron because she had practically admitted to having it.
"Someone has to regulate it's use. If I hear that an unsavory character has the substance and intends harm I'll relieve him of his burden." She said slightly evasively, hinting at her robin hood like enterprise.
"I do not procure these things for just anyone. You will have to prove to me you will not cause harm with it. I do not want the blood of innocence on me by proxy."
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The Fae
Aug 30, 2010 23:10:12 GMT -5
Post by sam on Aug 30, 2010 23:10:12 GMT -5
"I'm not in the business of harming others or threatening to destroy one's moral rectitude, but I understand and appreciate your concern. It's good of you." Sam stared at the gypsy a long while, calculating his own internal struggle and the countless potential outcomes of the meeting. He did not know what it was about the woman that caused him to trust blindly and he was disturbed by this. She could have his hide in Azkaban before dawn.
"Would you consider joining me for a walk?" Sam asked the question frankly. He startled himself by uttering it and imagined he had equally stunned the gypsy, who appeared even more beautiful - if it were possible - in the glow of the dancing lanterns. Sudden but sincere.
Sam looked over his shoulder to where a few of Maebh's clan worked intently at repairing a canvas. He glanced back at Maebh and then silently requested a moment, approaching the unnamed family and kneeling down beside them. From Maebh's vantage, she would have seen the spellsmith bringing items from his jacket pocket and an object from around his neck.
"Good evening. My name is Sam Black. I am a staff person at Hogwarts. Here are my papers. I've requested a meeting with your colleague by the wagon. I will leave you with my identification and my family crest. I will come back for them. If your colleague agrees, we will be walking down the length of High Street to the Shrieking Shack and back. I promise she will remain in your view the entire time." Sam held out a hand for the eldest of the members to shake.
Sam nodded his respects to Maebh's family and returned to the gyspy's side, pointing at a trunk on the wagon, upon which there was a lock and key. He deftly unlocked the hatch and placed his wand inside, re-locking the trunk and giving Maebh the key without word or hesitation. A lock and key...a muggle contraption which he most admired (and admired Maebh for using).
"If you could trust me enough to offer me 5 minutes, I would be most obliged."
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The Fae
Aug 31, 2010 1:27:50 GMT -5
Post by Maebh Breandan on Aug 31, 2010 1:27:50 GMT -5
Morals complicate matters, twisting, knotting, shading blocks that act as a shield, riddled with holes for that sneaky tentacle specie of temptation to strike through. Sometimes, the shrewd opportunistic daredevil businessman inside of Maebh cursed the moral fighter of underdogs that typically ruled. The muddy blood of Gypsies ran through Maebh's body luring her to the dark shady side of the law, where it was hot and cold simultaneously. It was extremely tempting to drop all reservations and just jump into the fey, pass off her stage wagon and peddle questionable goods full time. A younger Maebh had been tempted on several occasions but the values her family instilled in her held true. Oh it was quite tempting to make a a quick galleon but it was not worth the loss of her soul.
She loved life to much to bargain with her only mortal body. Laughter was too much fun. No she did not deal with darkness just the occasional gray matter. Of course, she did not turn down a hot item or to here or there if the person who had been relieved of it deserved it or the gift bringer was in need of help. If it was extremely valuable Maebh returned it, sometimes.
Maebh did not think of what she did as good of her. She was not a saint. Again, she was gypsy. Her cousin taught her how to distract adults so they could pick the pockets when she was four. Still his opinion of her mattered and she did not know why. Usually she ignored the thoughts of people, not needing them. Who cared if they thought she was good? Unless it pertained to a show of course. But what this stranger thought of her mattered a bit. Must have been the lighting, the intimate nature of their murmured conversation that raised the hair on the back of her neck. In a pleasant sort of way.
The man seemed trustworthy but how to prove it? While she trusted him she had to prove his worth to her family. Dangerous materials were sold only if the other adults agreed. Safety by consensus. Before she could make up her mind he surprised her.
Stunned, Maebh stared at Sam her eyes drowning in his. A purely female response flowed through her. 'it's been way too long... she thought as her stomach filliped. Any hot blooded passionate woman would have reacted in that situation...light...mood...stars. It was an abrupt turn of events, a walk? Maebh would have refused if Sam hadn't looked so surprised himself.
An amused, appreciative smile bloomed on her face, her eyes jewels in the dark. For a second she basked in the warmth of feeling before business settled in. Then Sam was off talking to her little troupe before she could do anything but watch.
The men stared at the newcomer openly as he performed his little show, only a little impressed. Words met nothing but combined with action they had a bit of merit. But it could be all an act, they were very familiar with that concept. Rafe, a blondish brown haired masculine version of Maebh accepted the papers with a slightly amused speculative gleam in his blue eyes.
Maebh was pleased that Sam actually asked her again to go instead of just demanding it. Maebh too took her wand, using the key he hand handed her to unlock the trunk and place her own with it. Locking it again, She took the key tucking it down the front of her blouse, securely in the corner. If trouble occurred her family was not far behind. They would be fine.
" You have shown yourself to be with trust Mister Black so lets oblige you." She said with a wave of her hand, pointing down the street.
"
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The Fae
Aug 31, 2010 21:07:07 GMT -5
Post by sam on Aug 31, 2010 21:07:07 GMT -5
Sam quietly nodded his thanks and held the gate aside so that Maebh could exit on to High Street ahead of him. His heart stammered. It was one thing for the stunning gypsy to accept his invitation; quite another thing for her to leave her wand behind as he had. Now they were both at the mercy of fate, and fate was not always kind. It was only a few steps down the cobbled street before Sam regained his concentration.
"Pardon, Miss, but are you cold? Can I offer you my jacket?" The spellsmith already had his jacket off and outstretched to Maebh before she could answer. It was the first night that he actually acknowledged the cold; until now it had been humid and uncharacteristically dry. Sam loved the first whispers of Fall and tonight seemed to be a love-letter to September. Carefully etched clouds raced across the pale sliver of a crescent moon.
"I'm sorry, I should have properly introduced myself before jumping in to talk of wartcap powder. I've just been looking for days and I think it's adversely affected my manners. My name is Sam. Actually it's Pwca, but I go by Sam. I heard you say your name during the performance. Do I pronounce it correctly, 'Maebh'? It's a very unique name. Do you mind if I ask what it means?"
The spellsmith walked beside the young women with his head down and his hands half in his pockets. Sam inwardly regarded that it had been years since he had done this; he was normally quite alert and observant of everything - almost scarily so. Tonight the intimacy of the wagon followed them and he walked High Street as though he and Maebh were the only spirits roaming the sleeping village.
"Thank you for walking with me."
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The Fae
Aug 31, 2010 21:29:59 GMT -5
Post by Maebh Breandan on Aug 31, 2010 21:29:59 GMT -5
It was the year 2020, the age of individualism each human for their self and here was a man not only offering but actually stripping for a woman. A feminist would have been incensed, after all a woman is just as tough as a man. Maebh was touched by this humble, pleasing man of action. All the woman could do was stare at him her mouth slightly open, lips gently curved in a mere hint of a smile. It took a moment for her brain to regain function. Finally she remembered what her mouth was for.
"You really are a wonder." She blurted out as she accepted the offered jacket. She wasn't going to refuse him. It would be rude and it was a tad nippy. If she had her wand she would have summoned her own wrap.
He was nervous, like a teenager. Even Maebh felt young again. Giddy. It was enthralling and she couldn't help but wonder if maybe this could be more than business, was he feeling the same? Or was this an act?
"Don't ever apologize for something so inconsequential." She said gently briefly pressing his arm. "Close, it's pronounced, Mae-V and it means one who brings great joy." She said ignoring the second meaning her brothers had teased her about, she who intoxicates.
"It's a traditional Irish name. My mum loved the story of great warrior queen of Connacht so she named me after her. Who'd you get Sam out of Pwca?" She asked as they walked just getting to know each other. Maebh couldn't help but think that it felt a bit more like a date than a business meeting.
"Why have you handled wart cap powder?" She asked softly.
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The Fae
Aug 31, 2010 22:10:16 GMT -5
Post by sam on Aug 31, 2010 22:10:16 GMT -5
Sam unconsciously looked down to where Maebh touched his arm. The imprint left a warmth he had not felt in some time and it emanated through the depths of his being, to where a well-hidden loneliness had reigned for a lifetime. His Ravenclaw logic demanded that the gesture was simply a wayward touch. His heart pleaded that it was a sign she trusted him; an important achievement for a man who was raised to be true.
He stifled a blush.
"I am not a wonder, Miss," he uttered lowly. "It is the right thing to do and I am certain any other man would offer you his coat. September fell quickly."
Sam listened intently as Maebh shared the origin and meaning of her name. It was an uncommonly perfect fit and he smiled at the mention of Connacht, remembering the old tales of Ulster. He was a dedicated audience.
"Your parents had remarkable foresight to name you as a bringer of joy. You've certainly lived up to...exceeded...your namesake. Your performance rejuvenated this village. People here have been through a lot. Certainly the darker days are well behind them, but often the grief and the memory linger. You and your family gave them peace tonight."
Sam arched a playful eyebrow at the question of his name: "Pwca and Sam are not at all alike and I have no reasonable explanation other than to suggest that there was so much difficulty with pronouncing Pwca (Poo-cah) that they felt it necessary to go as simple as they could. There's no question with a Sam, unless you're dyslexic, like my cousin, in which case I heartily accept Mas."
"Wartcap and I go a ways back. In my line of work, I create spells that need to withstand any attempts to end them. Like your lock and key, which I love that you have. I collect Muggle artifacts as well." Sam took off his "watch" and handed it Maebh. "Locks protect things, so do my spells. Businesses, institutions hire me to keep things in safe keeping. Wartcap was a substance I used early on to help seal entrances. You can't just spell a door shut and expect it to last. You have to make the spell a combination of many factors and keep those who want to access it illegally always guessing. My work right now is a bit more fragile and I have many little spirits counting on the safety I can provide. I'm sorry - I know that's vague. I'm somewhat cuffed by trade secrets."
Sam could see that the Shrieking Shack was growing closer and he inwardly wished it would remain in the distance a while longer. It was at this time that they also passed his old homestead. He pointed to the sign.
"That was my shop. If you and your family need a place to stay while you're in Hogsmeade, please...there's no one there and I could easily give you access. Are you, are you in town for very long?"
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The Fae
Sept 1, 2010 20:08:05 GMT -5
Post by Ralin O'Faerlun on Sept 1, 2010 20:08:05 GMT -5
[[Hope you don't mind me joining ]] After chasing fireflies for a good half hour after moonrise, the wolf had trotted through the forest towards Hogsmeade. It had been months since he had last been in the area, and after several full moons cooped up in his little grungy flat in London, Ralin savored the fresh scents of the night air and the feel of the ground beneath his paws. The forest was alive with sounds and scents, painting glowing lines to his nose. There was the scuffled tracks of a hare, and the delicate dancing steps of a deer crossing them. Overhead an owl swooped on silent wings, moonlight dappling its feathers through the treetops. But the wolf's heart wasn't satisfied by his run through the forest. Months after graduating, leaving the place that felt like home and security to him, Ralin's spirit ached for companionship. His friends all busy or abroad with jobs, or on summer vacation, Ralin had spent the summer doing odd jobs to earn rent, still undecided on his future. Adrift, he had returned here for a week to see if he could possibly get a job closer to home. There. The warm lights of Hogsmeade glimmered beyond the shadowy form of the Shrieking Shack hunched over on its grassy knoll overlooking the village. The lights seemed to unfold arms to him, welcoming Ralin back. Suppressing a bark of happiness, the lupine shadow uncurled from the forest into the pale moonlight. Larger than any normal canid, his reddish fur leached by the moonlight, Ralin suddenly realized he couldn't just trot into town. Ears pressed back in disappointment, he decided to just pad along the edges, maybe see a familiar face or two. But as he came around the side of the Shrieking Shack, two quiet voices reached his suddenly pricked ears. It was too late to try and run for cover. Moving any more would surely startle the strollers. So Ralin sat down slowly, hoping that they wouldn't notice the large canine beyond the lights of the village. The last thing he wanted was to frighten someone, or worse, be chased from Hogsmeade. Green eyes glittered with moonlight, the only movement from the silent watcher.
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