Post by orion on Nov 19, 2011 14:48:28 GMT -8
November 5th, 11:59pm, Big Ben
A whisper of cloth atop the bell tower announced the black figure, whom no-one save the pigeons noticed. Arms crossed, expression foreboding, and stance grim, the man was a Death angel come calling. Below his perch, joining him in surveying the sprawling, bustling, twinkling city, a stone gargoyle conversed with all the nuances that silence could offer.
BONG
Where is she?
BONG
Why has she left school?
BONG
Gold hazel eyes roved the streets below in anger. She'd left. Deserted him. He'd come for her, as he had told her, only to find her gone.
BONG
A silver cat lept from the man's wand and sped off into the city, quick as thought. If she were in London, his Patronus would find her and lead him to her.
BONG
The bells. The bells boomed their deep song, echoing in the caverns of thought in the young man's mind. He had overcome much of his anger, but a more potent rage was building.
BONG
Had her parents abducted her the way his had removed him? Had they forced her to relinquish her education in return for imprisonment? Had she gone looking for him? That thought made him pause his pacing. When had that started?
BONG
The plinthed columns holding the arched guard rails served as a brace point for a deep brood.
Would she? She would. He would, in her place, and she was his other half. And, if she had left, she'd be...no. She'd not have gone to Mongolia. Not yet, anyway.
BONG
He resumed pacing, thinking, plotting, planning. She had to be here, in London. His basic tracking spell had suggested that much. All he had to do was wait for his Patronus to return.
BONG
Seconds seemed like lifetimes. Had the bell only chimed nine times? Had the great hands below him really only barely moved for two minutes of horological progression? This was ridiculous he should-
BONG
A streak of silver, barely discernable by those not looking for it, attuned to it, moved up the river. Dashed, even, in it's driven quest to find. It was returning. The Patronus either succeeded or failed, and he would know by it's attitude upon it's return. Eagerness filled his breast as his breath caught in his throat. He followed the silver progression obsessively, leaning out farther and farther over the long drop of reality from the bell tower.
BONG
The ethereal cat streaked, as no cat in history ever could or would want to do, up the side of the lit landmark to its awaiting master. Smugness, as only a cat or a Slytherin could produce, oozed from the cat as it awaited the young man's actions. Once he was mounted on his broom and disillusioned, the pair was off in the night like the Wild Hunt.
BONG
Orion had returned to England.
A whisper of cloth atop the bell tower announced the black figure, whom no-one save the pigeons noticed. Arms crossed, expression foreboding, and stance grim, the man was a Death angel come calling. Below his perch, joining him in surveying the sprawling, bustling, twinkling city, a stone gargoyle conversed with all the nuances that silence could offer.
BONG
Where is she?
BONG
Why has she left school?
BONG
Gold hazel eyes roved the streets below in anger. She'd left. Deserted him. He'd come for her, as he had told her, only to find her gone.
BONG
A silver cat lept from the man's wand and sped off into the city, quick as thought. If she were in London, his Patronus would find her and lead him to her.
BONG
The bells. The bells boomed their deep song, echoing in the caverns of thought in the young man's mind. He had overcome much of his anger, but a more potent rage was building.
BONG
Had her parents abducted her the way his had removed him? Had they forced her to relinquish her education in return for imprisonment? Had she gone looking for him? That thought made him pause his pacing. When had that started?
BONG
The plinthed columns holding the arched guard rails served as a brace point for a deep brood.
Would she? She would. He would, in her place, and she was his other half. And, if she had left, she'd be...no. She'd not have gone to Mongolia. Not yet, anyway.
BONG
He resumed pacing, thinking, plotting, planning. She had to be here, in London. His basic tracking spell had suggested that much. All he had to do was wait for his Patronus to return.
BONG
Seconds seemed like lifetimes. Had the bell only chimed nine times? Had the great hands below him really only barely moved for two minutes of horological progression? This was ridiculous he should-
BONG
A streak of silver, barely discernable by those not looking for it, attuned to it, moved up the river. Dashed, even, in it's driven quest to find. It was returning. The Patronus either succeeded or failed, and he would know by it's attitude upon it's return. Eagerness filled his breast as his breath caught in his throat. He followed the silver progression obsessively, leaning out farther and farther over the long drop of reality from the bell tower.
BONG
The ethereal cat streaked, as no cat in history ever could or would want to do, up the side of the lit landmark to its awaiting master. Smugness, as only a cat or a Slytherin could produce, oozed from the cat as it awaited the young man's actions. Once he was mounted on his broom and disillusioned, the pair was off in the night like the Wild Hunt.
BONG
Orion had returned to England.