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Post by Ryan Harkness on Sept 1, 2011 1:24:26 GMT -5
"'bout bloody time you got here, been standing in the rain for an hour..." Ryan stowed his wand back inside his trench coat pocket, stepping out onto the curb as the Knight Bus came to a raging stop outside Diagon Alley. It was late, but in London the nightlife was just starting to emerge out onto the street. To Ryan, though, that sort of company meant it was time to go home; sociable he may be, the roaring nightlife was never his speed. Send him home to Matt, JR, and whatever's on telly and he'd be much happier.
Ryan flipped the attendant his fee with a patient smile and boarded the bus. It was fairly full, strange for this time of night. He took a seat rather than one of the beds, as he didn't have far to go.
"Where to, Harkness?"
"Chelsea, please." The attendant nodded and the bus started off. The passengers jostled around as the bus did its twists and turns, but a frequent rider like Ryan was used to the queasy motions. He pulled a Daily Prophet from the chair in front of him, reading with interest on the Godric's Hollow attack. The Black Watch... He read. Wasn't his uncle involved in that?
Ryan pitched forward as the bus came to another stop, dropping the paper with the motion. He looked up as another passenger entered the vehicle.
ooc: A random RP, getting Ryan in on some action. feel free to join! ^^
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Post by Conan Breandan on Sept 1, 2011 22:47:28 GMT -5
Conan scowled at the rain outside the protected bubble of his umbrella. The sky had been pouring for the last three hours, and in the last thirty minutes had increased to a solid downpour that hid most things from sight. His umbrella was rickety and leaked, but it was still dryer than the rest of the world.
Finally bright lights shown in his eyes, and the Knight Bus came to a screeching halt, splashing water up to his knees. Conan took a deep breath for patience, gathered his cloak around him and took a tighter grip on his bag. He boarded the bus and handed the attendant his fare.
As a squib, he couldn’t summon the bus on his own, but fortunately there were tokens for riders who couldn’t do so. He dropped his in his pocket and took the first seat available, next to a young man with a paper. He sighed and leaned down to try and wring out his pant legs.
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Post by Theo Bowre on Sept 2, 2011 0:29:48 GMT -5
"God I love you," Theo stood in the middle of a narrow sidewalk, devoid of umbrella or hood, and became a willing victim to the torrential downpour of an early September eve. The UK had had an unusually warm summer, with long spells of sun and humidity. Rain spoke of Fall and as it was Theo's most favourite time of year, he was eager to welcome it. "Come on baby, rain!" Several youthful passersby - en route to a nearby club - glanced over. Most thought he was crazy.
A sudden flash of light was at first mistaken by the beater as a bolt of lightning, but he soon realized that it was nothing more than the headlights of his chariot for the evening: the Knight Bus. Theo would normally fly on such an occasion, but luck would have it that his broom was in for repair after a particularly physical Quidditch match with the Kiwis. The New Zealand team had started the match with their traditional (and beloved) Hakka and a playful Theo felt it necessary to quip to their beater that he liked their "Huck-up." By the end of the match, Theo's Nimbus was broken in two.
"Hey Mac," Theo chimed cheerfully to the Knight Bus' operator as his boots thundered up the steps. He placed the required fare in to the coin box.
"Same place, Boon?"
"Yes sir."
"Have a seat."
"Thanks."
Without much warning, the Knight Bus lurched forward, giving Theo the sensation of broom surfing over the jet stream. He hovered a hand over the tops of the seats in case he had reason to brace himself and made for an empty set that sat directly behind two gentlemen. Sitting down with a silent sigh, Theo searched his bag for something to occupy his attention. Wales always seemed to fall on the end of the route.
He was about to open a paperback he found in his duffle when a familiar scent wafted to his nose. The beater knew the cologne: it was expensive, it was of very impeccable taste, and it screamed Ryan Harkness as though eau de toilet had vocal chords. Theo remembered Matt giving Ryan the gift last Christmas. He couldn't remember a single day when Ryan wasn't wearing it.
Theo looked at the back of the head and then tilted his gaze to look over the young man's shoulder. Damn. His nephew had a dashing silhouette.
"Ryan?"
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Post by Echo Ashaelyr on Sept 2, 2011 0:58:26 GMT -5
Another demon vanquished, and Echo needed a shower. Blarguts were viscous demons that lived in sewers and ate cats, dogs, and anything else unlucky enough to wander close to it. And they liked to spit black ichor all over things. Making a face at the smell, she used her wand to clean up most of the goo and get rid of the smell. She was wearing stylish jeans, high black boots, and her favorite sleeveless leather jerkin that fit her form like a bodice. When her sword was cleaned and sheathed across her back, the woman stepped up to the curb and held out her wand in one gloved hand.
BANG
The purple Knight Bus arrived in its usual haphazard style, careening down the street and screeching to a halt like a drunken banshee. Echo smiled at the familiar sight and stepped on, expertly flicking her bus fare into the driver's hands.
It was quite full inside, most of the beds occupied by sleeping patrons. A warlock was reading tarot cards in the middle of his bed; how he could read them when half were flung on the ground, Echo didn't know. Seeing an empty seat near some handsome gentlemen, Echo wondered if she still smelled like blargut spit. Throwing caution out the window, the tall, dark haired woman took the empty seat, listening with half an ear to their conversation. Harkness...wasn't that the name of the Minister?
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Post by Ryan Harkness on Sept 2, 2011 1:08:41 GMT -5
Ryan eyed the new passenger with passive interest; he had a writer's eye, after all, and took a passing interest in everyone. He loved to people watch, silently making up stories for the characters he found in daily life. This man was small, even more so than his friend Ralin. He also seemed to not be having too good of an evening; his slumped shoulders and multiple sighs were obvious. Ryan arched an interested brow when he noticed the bus token. He had seen one before: Kendra had one, it was what she used to call the Knight Bus when she needed it. So he was a squib. Huh.
As the man took a seat next to Ryan and tried to wring out his trousers, Ryan surreptitiously pulled his wand. With a slight flick, the new passenger's pants legs were dry. He replaced his wand back in his jacket pocket, keeping his eyes forward at the motion outside. He didn't want to call out the other gentleman's magical shortcomings, and if the man didn't want to interact with him then he wouldn't make him. He just wanted to do something kind. After all, he'd been in similar situations before and would have welcomed a helping hand.
"Ryan?"
Ryan turned around, arching a brow at the strange voice he recognized. A warm smile lit up his face at the familiar sight of his uncle. "Theo." He hadn't seen his uncle in weeks, though he had received a strange message from Travert Salt a few days ago. He'd been meaning to ask about that, but the Knight Bus was hardly the proper place. "I was just thinking about you, actually. Have you seen this?" Ryan turned sideways in his seat to more easily see Theo, handing him the prophet. A photo of a small pink house accompanied the Godric's Hollow article; the home looked about ready to collapse in on itself, it's lower half scorched and battered. "It says it was a Hogwarts Professor's home that got attacked. D'you know him?"
ooc: I'm placing this thread about 1-2 days after Game Evil Plays. Theo, if this isn't okay I can change it.
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Post by Theo Bowre on Sept 2, 2011 1:53:33 GMT -5
Theo's face froze, his eyes hardening as his eldest nephew handed him the Prophet. Godric's Hollow? Numb hands reached for the crinkled parchment and had difficulty folding the paper to a manageable size. The noise caused some to stare in annoyance but Theo was beyond any ability to offer his apologies for the nuisance.
Rows upon rows of diagonal text followed the heavily-inked headline. In the corner, the image of the once-familiar Kameren home was replaced by a scorched shell.
Former Auror Curse Kameren...
...The Hogwarts professor's home was desecrated...
...attacked by dark wizards...
...several casualties, including members of the Hogsmeade group Black Watch...
...son, Max Kameren...whereabouts unknown...
Max...no....
"Ryan..." Theo found himself unable to talk. Despite his misgivings about Curse Kameren, the news made him sick for the dad. No child should be put through such an ordeal. And no parent. Thoughts raced over the details of the article. The wounded, the dead. He feared for his friends...for those he still loved...and although the editorial was without a list of names, Bowre couldn't help but fear that the young man he treated as his brother - Ralin O'Faerlun - was among those that fought at Godric's Hollow. He thought on Reckony Pike, Reece Elswyth, Maebh...Finally, he thought on Mosrael.
He needed to get to Jack.
Theo cleared his throat discretely as he started to negotiate a possible escape route out of the bus.
"Ryan, did you get any instruction from Tom or Travert? Don't say anything about it here, but if you have you must follow it. If not, you need to see Tom tonight. Don't speak to anyone but family. Not even to friends." Theo 's hand quickly flew to the window where he pulled the chord, notifying the driver that a passenger needed to disembark. The bus came to a sudden stop, throwing the tarot reader off his bunk.
"I'm looking out for your dad. He's going to be okay."
"WHAT THE HELL!?" Mac yelled back over his shoulder.
"Rwy'n dy garu di, dyn bach." Theo locked eyes with Ryan...
"ARE YOU OR ARE YOU NOT GETTING OFF, BOWRE? THIS ISN'T WALES, YOU KNOW!"
...his expression was one of great sadness.
"I'm staying in London!" The beater sprung from his seat and raced down the aisle towards the door. He glanced back at Ryan only once before exiting in to an empty street.
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Post by Ryan Harkness on Sept 3, 2011 14:11:52 GMT -5
Ryan's concern grew with his uncle's as Theo tensed, looking more uneasy the more he read. He must know him, then. What did the article say? Kameren something? Come to think of it, the name rang a bell with Ryan as well. Whether from different articles from the Prophet or some Ministry something-or-other with his father, Ryan wasn't sure.
"Ryan..."
"Is there anything I can do?" Sure, Ryan had been looking forward to home, but if his uncle was this worked up about something he had to do something to help relieve it. Was there even anything Theo could do? Kameren and his son were both missing, the article said it. Everyone lurched with the bus as it swooped around the corner, but Ryan kept his eyes on Theo.
"Ryan, did you get any instruction from Tom or Travert?"
"Yeah, but--"
"Don't say anything about it here, but if you have you must follow it. If not, you need to see Tom tonight. Don't speak to anyone but family. Not even to friends."
"What about Matt?" The urgency in Theo's words made Ryan worried. Travert had told them to be safe, and if they thought something was wrong they should join the family at Jack's. He hadn't told him what it was about, what was happening. Godric's Hollow was somehow involved? What did Theo have to do with this? Better question: how did his dad play a role? If Travert was sending out warning to the kids, then his father was somehow involved. "Theo -" Ryan put a hand on his shoulder as Theo stood, trying to get some information out of him before he flew off. He leaned in close, eyeing the other passengers as he tried to avoid their wandering ears. "Theo, does this have something to do with dad?"
"I'm looking out for your dad. He's going to be okay."
This was something that Ryan couldn't stand about his family; he was twenty years old now, fully grown. Yet for some reason, his father, Theo, and the rest of the Harkness men still kept him in the dark on things, like he was still a kid. He was an adult now, though. Three years out of school and already growing praise as an author. Yet, somehow, Theo and his dad still saw him as the timid Hufflepuff first-year he was ten years ago.
"What's wrong with dad?" Ryan asked, but before he could get a proper answer, Theo stopped the bus. Okay, now he was worried. No one had told him there was anything wrong with Jack in the first place, let alone something Prophet-headline worthy. How did this all tie back into the dark magic attack on Godric's Hollow? Ryan needed to get to his dad's house, ASAP. He watched worriedly as Theo exited the bus, sinking back into his seat. He would get Matt first, just in case. The two of them would be safer at Jack's, he was sure. Besides, if there was some sort of emergency he was sure Georgie and Annie would take comfort in the distraction of JR running around the house.
"Next stop, Chelsea."
Ryan's dark eyes glanced up at the bus driver, then around to the other passengers again as the bus lurched forwards.
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Post by Conan Breandan on Sept 11, 2011 21:59:17 GMT -5
Suddenly the material in his hands was dry, and not a result of the rigorous twisting he was putting it through. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at the young man, his lips twisting as he prepared to make some remark. Just like a wizard to jump in where he’s not needed or Can’t mind your own business, boy? He opened his mouth, tilting his chin so he could see the boy better. His fingers smoothed the wrinkles from his pant legs and his mouth snapped shut with a quiet snap of teeth.
The trousers were black silk. He wore an old leather jacket for warmth, but under it was a red silk bloused tunic, the wide sleeves narrowed on his wrists and peeked out under his jacket sleeves. With a quiet humph he sat up and lay back in the chair, closing his eyes partway. It would have been cold sitting in wet silk trousers, for he’d gotten rained out of a performance. He supposed he owed it to the boy to let him slide with no comment.
He drew his legs in sharply as the lad argued with some man behind them, showing signs of possibly leaving the bus in a hurry. As he sank back in his seat and the bus lurched back into motion, he opened his eyes fully, not moving from his slouched position, and locked eyes with the boy.
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