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Entry tags:
- !poly,
- dance magic dance,
- fred is up to no good,
- our shenanigans are cheeky and fun,
- this is not how you cope with death,
- what the devil is going on here?,
- ~angua von uberwald,
- ~aradia megido,
- ~claire bennet,
- ~demyx,
- ~donna noble,
- ~ginny weasley,
- ~hanna falk cross,
- ~james crawford,
- ~luca macken,
- ~nathan young,
- ~the tardis
oo1.
[ video || open action ]
[The faces of the passerby's to the device's lens seem to be reflecting a range from distinct lack of interest to mild amusement to extreme confusion. They also appear to be shielding their heads from something, but from the device's position, it isn't quite clear what.
That is, until the throng clears enough for the device to get a good shot of the fountain - and what appears to be an aquatic apparition thrashing about in the center of it all. Wrapped in one of its many tendrils can be seen a man in slightly tattered clothes, though his most distinct feature is the flaming red hair that might be somewhat familiar to select residents of the City. He is also screaming and flailing against the monster theatrically.]
No! No! Somebody, stop this beast! This is no way for a man to go! No!
[As the creature lifts him to its mouth(?), he confines himself to his fate and shouts to whatever observers have stuck around to watch the events unfold.]
Tell my family - I love them!
[But it's too late for him. The monster slips him into its translucent mouth and he can be seen sliding through the watery entrails - and then sliding right back out through the stomach, depositing him just close enough to get a better view of him. His concentration broken, the monster collapses back to its original position in the fountain, thoroughly soaking the man and the other observers in the process. They look annoyed. He looks...disappointed.]
Bugger. Another flop. [He turns to the device with something of a smile, putting his abundant freckles and soft brown eyes into view.] The stomach's supposed to be more akin to jelly, see? The idea was suspension, not lubrication.
[He sighs and gets to his feet, brushing himself off despite his dripping wet state.]
All in due time. Let's go it again. Come on, Georgie.
[He addresses another, though he is quite noticeably alone, and it's only in this that his voice takes a slightly less chipper tone. All that can be seen is his back and the strange, ethereal movement of the water as he walks back over to the fountain and the device shuts off.]
[ /video ]
[ooc; Fred is officially in the City! :D He hasn't quite figured out the device yet, though he played with it for a good while beforehand because that was curious minds do! Feel free to say your character was an unfortunate observer or just happened to pass him by or whatever, really. As a side note, I'm going to be disappearing around 1pm-ish today, so tags may come slow after that, but backtagging is love and I will reply as quickly as possible! Go crazy, you silly kids! ♥]
[The faces of the passerby's to the device's lens seem to be reflecting a range from distinct lack of interest to mild amusement to extreme confusion. They also appear to be shielding their heads from something, but from the device's position, it isn't quite clear what.
That is, until the throng clears enough for the device to get a good shot of the fountain - and what appears to be an aquatic apparition thrashing about in the center of it all. Wrapped in one of its many tendrils can be seen a man in slightly tattered clothes, though his most distinct feature is the flaming red hair that might be somewhat familiar to select residents of the City. He is also screaming and flailing against the monster theatrically.]
No! No! Somebody, stop this beast! This is no way for a man to go! No!
[As the creature lifts him to its mouth(?), he confines himself to his fate and shouts to whatever observers have stuck around to watch the events unfold.]
Tell my family - I love them!
[But it's too late for him. The monster slips him into its translucent mouth and he can be seen sliding through the watery entrails - and then sliding right back out through the stomach, depositing him just close enough to get a better view of him. His concentration broken, the monster collapses back to its original position in the fountain, thoroughly soaking the man and the other observers in the process. They look annoyed. He looks...disappointed.]
Bugger. Another flop. [He turns to the device with something of a smile, putting his abundant freckles and soft brown eyes into view.] The stomach's supposed to be more akin to jelly, see? The idea was suspension, not lubrication.
[He sighs and gets to his feet, brushing himself off despite his dripping wet state.]
All in due time. Let's go it again. Come on, Georgie.
[He addresses another, though he is quite noticeably alone, and it's only in this that his voice takes a slightly less chipper tone. All that can be seen is his back and the strange, ethereal movement of the water as he walks back over to the fountain and the device shuts off.]
[ /video ]
[ooc; Fred is officially in the City! :D He hasn't quite figured out the device yet, though he played with it for a good while beforehand because that was curious minds do! Feel free to say your character was an unfortunate observer or just happened to pass him by or whatever, really. As a side note, I'm going to be disappearing around 1pm-ish today, so tags may come slow after that, but backtagging is love and I will reply as quickly as possible! Go crazy, you silly kids! ♥]
he's there for you when he shouldn't be but he stays all the same;
Eying her side ways as she hugs him, he rolls them back away and noticeably deflates a little, groaning as he speaks.]
Oh, bullocks. George'll never let me hear the end of this.
[Not that he's here to take advantage of the moment anyway, a thought that hits him rather hard yet again before he reluctantly wraps an arm about her in return. No sense in fighting it; this is her turf. He'll follow her lead as long as he has to.]
he's there for you when he shouldn't be but he stays all the same;
In the few seconds until Disapparating, Ginny slants her gaze to her brother and a sharp pang lances through her heart. She'd noticed almost immediately that Fred was without his twin, and she didn't want to bring it up. Obviously it wasn't something to be talked about right away - if ever - because the bond between the twins is something Ginny can never truly understand. She can't replace George, and she'd never try to, but she'll be there for Fred as best she can, as long as she can. That's what siblings are for.
Ginny doesn't reply. Instead, she taps a silent count with her fingers on Fred's arm, twists them around, and after a distinctly uncomfortable few seconds being twisted through space, the Weasley siblings are standing on a gravel path in front of a modest cabin in the forest. A small greenhouse is barely visible around the building, and there's a small clearing off into the trees with a practice dummy for spells. When Ginny reaches out to the door of the cabin and pushes it open, it's clear the place hasn't truly been lived in for a while. It's too neat and tidy. But... ]
Well, home sweet home. If that's what you want it to be, anyway. It hasn't exactly been a home for about a year.
[She steps past the threshold, still trying to go through this outline she's set up for herself. Settle him in. Explain things. Go, go, go.]
Have a seat and I'll go fetch you those clothes, hm? There's biscuits in the cupboard—left one, the right's got potions things—if you're hungry.
[She's channeling their mother, isn't she?]
he's there for you when he shouldn't be but he stays all the same;
The cabin, on the otherhand, is a wonder beyond words. He releases his grip on Ginny the moment he sees it, as though he needs his entire being in order to comprehend. His first thought is that it's beautiful, not entirely unlike Hogwarts and its surrounding forests and wildlife. His second is that it's strange, peculiar to have a house out here that's set up and ready - which leads to his third thought just as Ginny says the word herself. Fred hears her, and he knows the word, recognizes the word, but it doesn't quite connect until he notices some distinct parallels. Away from the city, out of view from Muggles, quite unlike a house but cozy in all the ways one should be.
Home. It's just like the Burrow.
Ginny's next words hardly register with him, and he has to blink himself back to reality.]
Hm? Oh, right, yes. Brilliant.
[Clothes. Why are there clothes here for him? No matter, it's hardly as important as observing the cabin at the moment, so he takes the first seat he can find in the place and continues to look around. It's clean - but too clean; the sort Mum'd trade her wand for in their unmanageable chaos of a home. And there's that word again, in relation to this place. This unfamiliar place with all the traces of its former inhabitants, traces of people he knows - traces of the things he will never see again outside these walls.
That thought pangs particularly strongly deep within him, and Fred unwittingly finds himself filled with the notion that he can't leave this place. He doesn't want to leave, and not just the cabin but the City as a whole. There are no regrets, there is no bitterness, nothing of the sort in light of his death. He accepts that, he was ready for that. Fred was willing to give everything for the War - but that doesn't mean he didn't want those things. It's not like he didn't want to celebrate what he knows to be an assured victory with his family, or to help restart the world the way it is meant to be. Or to watch Ginny grow up into a beautiful woman, to see his git of a little brother finally get together with Hermione, or to grow old with George forever at his side--.
Fred lifts a hand to his mouth, determined to keep it together despite a warmness spreading across his face, clouding his view with a thick gloss. This is it for him. This cabin. This place, here, now, with Ginny. He lost that future, and is trapped in present while surrounded by his past. He's come home.]
Think these biscuits have run a bit foul, Gin.
[He calls through the tightening of his throat as he moves to rub at his eyes, the tin left untouched and undiscovered in the kitchen.]
he's there for you when he shouldn't be but he stays all the same;
[This she calls across the cabin from the twins' old bedroom, where she's busy staring into the contents of the neatly-organised boxes she'd packed herself. She had packed these up so long ago, hadn't expected them to leave the box again, but here she was and as she was pulling a fresh shirt and jeans free, she finds herself wanting to cry. The sensation sweeps out of nowhere, blindsiding her and she has to pause to gather her emotions, to compose herself.
It's so bloody hard.
Fred is here. Fred is here, with her, as alive as she remembers - until she hugs him and can feel the lack of a heartbeat. Ginny thought she had accepted this long ago, but the wound felt as raw and fresh as the day he had first arrived in the City, happily announcing his death for anyone who might happen to hear. For her to hear, for Ron, for everyone else from their world. And George had followed and he never talked about how it made him feel, she never knew -
Pull yourself together, Ginny Weasley.]
Hey, Fred? D'you reckon these'll fit? [She says this as she walks down the hall, voice thick around the edges but ignoring it and hoping Fred does too. Ginny stops to just look at him, really look, and she can't help but break into a quiet smile.] Or did you want explanations first? I'm sorry. I know I'm being terribly mysterious.
he's there for you when he shouldn't be but he stays all the same;
Ginny said it hadn't been "home" for nearly a year, but it was still almost immaculate, which leads him to believe she's been keeping it clean just for the sake of it. He sniggers at the thought. Mum should only be so lucky to get this sort of upkeep in the Burrow. And maybe that's part of what makes it different. Rather than being home, where he wants to be but never will be, they have this cabin, and it's theirs. Something to make their own, and he'll just have to make the most of it.
Without George, or Ron, or Mum and Dad, Bill, Charlie, Percy. Bloody Hell, they'd just started to be a whole family again. Just the luck of the draw, apparently, and Fred shakes his head with a heavy sigh just before Ginny comes back down the hallway - sounding in much the same state he is. Stuck in a proper flap, conflicted between relief, misery and just all about confusion. He grins a bit.]
No need to apologise, that'd ruin the excitement of it all.
[Playful and excitable, Ginny. The way he always is, as though looking at the world through Omnioculars at that World Cup match years ago. It's but a game full of players - win or lose, the playing's the important part. The uncertainty, the thrill of it all, the fun. Fred's playing, he's always playing, and death doesn't change that. He still aims to win.]
Reckon those'll do just fine, little sister.
he's there for you when he shouldn't be but he stays all the same;
[Yours. Not George's, not Ron's not anyone else's but his. Ginny had been careful to Summon Fred's clothes when she was packing up everything in the cabin, putting them in a box and then George's in another. The same with Ron's, the same with Hermione's, and Harry's too. Luna, Cedric, Cho. Lupin and Sirius. Lily's, too, though she had never known her. It had been depressing work, but she did it with the hope that people would return one day and they'd need their things when they did. And if Fred asks after any of this, she'll answer with as much honesty as she can, without worrying him too much. The last thing she wants is for him to know just how hard it's been.
But she won't lie to him on how long it's been, either. She knows her brother is dead, but he isn't blind. She looks different and she didn't realise it until she saw that difference reflected in Fred's expression. He'd missed three years of her life. Was she even the same person he knew, anymore? She didn't want to think of that.
Ginny brushes past him to get to the cupboards, pulling down two mugs and the tin of tea. She snags two spoons and the jar of sugar, checks the spell-chilled cupboard for milk. It's simple work, she moves through the kitchen with an ease not unlike their mother, and she hops up onto the counter to sit while the water boil so she can look at Fred and smile.]
So, what, no questions? Never took you for the type to just sit back and accept things, unless the Hat put you in the wrong House?
he's there for you when he shouldn't be but he stays all the same;
But more than that, it's the realization that even if he can't recall, Ginny can. Merlin knows how long she's been here, and while he's free to forget that time in between, she's been left to remember all of it, and he doesn't even know how much of it she's privy to. She knows he's dead, that much he can tell, but does she know how? Why? What any of it even means? His eyes absent-mindedly wander down to where he lazily cast aside his old clothes, still tattered and dirtied from the fight despite his playing about the water. The evidence is all there - does she recognize it, and just hasn't said anything?
Once the shirt's on properly, Fred watches his sister mull about the kitchen, every bit the Ginny he knows but still impossibly different, like there's an added step in her gait that he doesn't understand, doesn't recognize, and the difference in age becomes all too noticeable. Just how much time has he lost, exactly? But then she smiles, and it's so very familiar, he has to smile back and shake his head in amusement.]
Can't a man get decent before starting about an inquisition?
[Questions abound, enough to fill a few OWLs, essays and all. But not entirely about the City - Fred did his digging before causing a scene in the fountain. He tinkered with the device, took in the surroundings, found his lack of pulse. Inquisitive nature in any circumstance, he wanted to gain some sort of footing before deciding on a course of action. He can't just outright rely on others to show him the way, he's got to have some sort of hand of his own. The questions he has now all pertain to home, or the family, or things that no one can really explain.
And in the end, every one of them leads back to Ginny. To her, this place, and all of that time lost. So as Fred leans back against the counter, contemplating where to start first, only one question really comes to mind. Quietly, with his head lowered and arms folded, it just sort of...slips out.]
Are you all right?
he's there for you when he shouldn't be but he stays all the same;
Ginny draws in a breath, steels herself for the easy lie as she meets her brother's eyes, and says, ]
Yeah, of course I am.
[But it falls flat. It falls so flat and she can hear it and she knows he can too. Ginny swallows roughly past the sudden lump in her throat and averts her gaze, hands curling into the edge of the countertop, and she's silent for a long moment... and then sighs, her shoulders sagging ever so slightly. She'd want the truth, if things were reversed. She'd want her family to trust her enough to hear it, no filters, no sugar-coating.]
Actually, that's... to be honest, I'm not. [She brings up a hand to wipe over her face, laughing, though the sound is half-hearted.] It's... I mean, this is all a bit mad. It's been ages since I've seen family, Fred, and even longer since I've seen home.
he's there for you when he shouldn't be but he stays all the same;
And it's just as expected. Not quite broken but far from solid. 'Of course I am,' but when was the last time that was actually true? Fred shifts his weight a little when she sighs, moving his hands to grip the counter tightly under the guise of bracing himself in this new position. It's not out of sudden grief or anger or anything like that, mostly just as something to keep him grounded as he listens with a calm gaze. He can't let the world slip out from beneath his feet if he's got to make sure Ginny's okay. He tries for a sympathetic smile.]
Yeah, imagine that oughta be a bit strange. [For lack of a better word that isn't 'depressing'.] You said 'ages'. Will you be getting wrinkles soon, then?
he's there for you when he shouldn't be but he stays all the same;
But as Ginny looks at her brother, her heart squeezes tight in her chest, and she sighs in turn. He's asked how long. She won't lie. She can't do that to him. So the not-so-youngest Weasley meets Fred's gaze and murmurs her answer, soft and almost apologetic.]
I don't know. Was Bill nineteen years old when we started calling him ancient? [She braces himself for his response, even as she adds,] I've been here for three years. The last time I was home was... it was the day we left The Burrow for Muriel's.
he's there for you when he shouldn't be but he stays all the same;
But three years? Nineteen? That isn't something he could've guessed in all his wildest dreams. How the bloody Hell is that even possible? That's not even the troubling part, the bit that has Fred gripping the counter too hard, knuckles whitening as he looks for words.]
...Blimey.
[He really had missed her growing up, but not properly. Not the way she was meant to, but in some sort of dimensional time pocket that has her somehow months behind him but years ahead, and absolutely nothing about this ruddy place makes sense. The only thing he can think of, the one thought that is painfully clear despite everything else clouding around it - Fred really did miss Ginny growing up. He missed her coming of age, he missed the years that shaped her into the woman she is now. And at the same time, she's still that teen from he's gone and left behind back home. 'Muriel's, which means she hasn't lived the battle yet, hasn't seen the war in its prime and the destruction that's come of it. Destruction of the castle, its grounds, but more than that, its people. Families, friends, that bloody wall coming apart--.
Turning his back to her to rest his arms flat on the counter, hands balling in and out of fists, Fred hangs his head and just breaths. He tries to calm himself, because there are not enough explanations and too many questions and all of it's happening at once, leaving the Gryffindor inside him frustrated and annoyed, the Weasley inside of him hurt and confused - and his own, personal anger just boiling over as time goes on. Not at Ginny, gods, not at her, but at this place and the circumstances and the fact he's got no control over it whatsoever, and isn't that the most difficult part? It's out of his hands. It is what it is, and he can't change that. Can't take back his absence or his death, or the years Ginny's gone without them. It's seeming more and more like he can't do a damn thing.
He slams his right fist down on the counter in the only outburst he'll allow himself before resting his forehead in his hands and exhaling slowly. This is ridiculous, impossible, and he doesn't know what to do. What is he supposes to do?]
he's there for you when he shouldn't be but he stays all the same;
[Two and a half. Like that will make it any better. Too late. Ginny wishes she could take back the words the moment she's said them. The sudden deflation in her brother, the surge of anger, knowing for certain now that it was what she said that did it - the regret tears through her stomach and claws up her throat, snatching desperately at the words in the air, but it's too late. Still, she tries to salvage the situation as best she can, slipping off the countertop and crossing the kitchen so she can rest a hand on her brother's shoulder, squeezing it with a firm reassurance even as she ducks her head around to try and meet his eyes again.
Her expression is earnest and apologetic. It says I'm so sorry and please trust me all wrapped up in I'm still me and I love you. Her voice is a low, but fierce whisper, willing the words to make it through the emotional wall they were so good at hiding but all knew was there. Weasleys. Their strength and their weakness is the absolute love and loyalty they have for each other.]
Hey. Hey. [She gives his shoulder a little jostle.] Fred, listen to me. I know what you're bloody thinking, so don't. It's not your fault, any of it, me being here or you not being here, and Merlin knows I'd feel the same way if it was the other way around but don't you dare. If you want anyone to blame, it's the City and its deities, but I've never hated any of you lot for leaving me behind here. Why should I? We're all meant to be home, and if some of you lot got there faster than me, then... fine. That's— [She's losing steam.] It's fine.
[She drags in a breath and it catches on the tightness in her throat, so she shakes her head and gives her brother as tight a hug as she can manage with him standing at the counter like he is. Tall. They're all so much taller than her, she'll never be as tall even as time passes, but this is a constant to them. Her voice gives the tiniest of hitches when she next speaks, and she's suddenly grateful he isn't looking at her for this next quiet admission.]
But if being here means I can be with you for a little while longer, then I don't give a damn how long I'm stuck.
[And there's Fred's answer to his unspoken question. His little sister does know what happens in the end.]
he's there for you when he shouldn't be but he stays all the same;
She knows.
She knows, has known this whole time and dammit, that changes everything. There are the physical clues, sure, but he doesn't need to be told that isn't all there is behind such a simple sentiment. Someone's gone and told her that he gets offed, blown away in a fairly literal sense, and she's had to carry that knowledge with her this entire time. He can't decide which is worse: having to cope with the sudden death of your sibling or having said dead sibling drop into your lap for an unknown amount of time? What could be going through the mind of this older-yet-still-too-young girl as she clings to him, hiding her face almost as though hiding from this unspoken acknowledgment? Fred doesn't like it, any of it - and he closes his eyes for just a moment to think.
Hadn't he said the same thing to Claire? That having Ginny with him is Heaven enough for him? This time together is borrowed time, time the "deities" have given them, isn't that all that matters now? He can't think on the fact that she'll enjoy his lovely presence for who knows how long, only to one day go home and lose him all over again - likely for good. He has to focus on the arms around him, the warmth from the young woman that is and always will be his sister, holding him together when he'd much like to fall apart. This is all that's important. With a bit of awkward difficulty, he pulls one arm free to wrap around her and - very rare, such pure unabated affection - kisses her forehead.
'Don't feel guilty. Don't be sad. We're fine. We're together.']
You'll be sick of me soon enough.
he's there for you when he shouldn't be but he stays all the same;
Walking through a nightmarish joke shop, hearing her brother's voice calling out to her, finding an Inferi wearing his face—
Ginny squeezes her eyes shut at the kiss to her forehead, something that none of her brothers ever did after she grew up, something that was too sweet, and personal, and vulnerable—and Fred just did it, because words aren't enough for this, and Merlin's beard, she swore she wouldn't cry because she's known for ages but this is so much worse than the first time. She draws in a quick, silent breath, holds it, lets it out, tightens her hug around her brother.]
Too bloody right I will be.
[Her words are the opposite of their meaning, but this is how she speaks to her brothers sometimes, and this is how they speak to her. And today, the meaning is simple and clear: never. What she's thinking is still tightly bottled up. She'll never be sick of you, Fred Weasley, so how could you leave her and the rest of the family behind? How could you?
Ginny disentangles herself from Fred when the kettle's whistle cuts through the air, and the moment is broken as she quickly scrubs at her eyes with the back of her hand, clears her throat, goes about making that long-forgotten tea. Her cheeks might be a little flushed and her eyes might be a little too bright, but she's holding it together as best she can.]
he's there for you when he shouldn't be but he stays all the same;
It almost feels as though the whole world is failing him. Or maybe he's failing it.
When she moves to tend to the tea, Fred stays with his back to her for a moment to compose himself. He shouldn't be this brash and emotional, but at the same time, he shouldn't be alive to feel any of it at all. This should be a happy moment. This needs to be a happy moment. He swallows down the lump in his throat and goes back to leaning against the counter as though their brief emotional interlude never took place.]
"The City"'s a rather terrible name, if you ask me. I almost feel as though I should be filing a complaint.
he's there for you when he shouldn't be but he stays all the same;
[The words come out a little too forcibly calm, and Ginny huffs out an irritated breath at herself, hand coming up to wipe at her eyes again. Bloody hell, she needs to get a hold of herself. She can tell that Fred's trying to brush off the past few minutes and she should try too, but her hands have the faintest tremble to them as they fix up the tea and for a moment, she forgets how Fred takes his because it's been so long and she goes still for a moment in trying to remember. No way is she asking. She's his sister, she's family, she should know.
What is... alright, no, it's fine, she's got this. Milk, sugar, tea, mugs, don't forget to charm the mug nice and warm, now. Ginny hands Fred his tea, a little frazzled, but she's smiling again as she holds on to her own drink. She is smiling, damn it.]
But do me a favour and don't hack off the deities, alright? I know, I know, this coming from me, but I've only just gotten you back and I'd rather not have to worry for a few more days yet.