oo5.

[feorge]

[ video || open action ]

[Welcome to the City, newcomers and old attendees alike! It's not too bad a day outside: nice weather, an atmosphere filled with tearful reunions and loud rejoicing - what a perfect day to go wandering about. But be careful, friends, and keep a watchful eye on the sky. As per usual, the Weasley twins are up to no good. Quite literally, this time around!

You may hear distant shouts - is that elation or fear? You may hear the sound of falling objects followed by a distinct splat! - is that fruit or something hitting the ground? So many signs of oncoming terror, but it's really quite difficult to know what to expect when it comes to these two, and that's when it'll hit you.]



[A whoosh of wind, a flash of color and bam! - it hits you in the form of a nice, big ball of paint thrown by these mischievous gingers as they fly above your head on their brooms, satchels of the little horrors hanging from across their chests. They'll look back at their handiwork with a grin before turning to high five each other.]

Excellent work, Georgie! Think your aim's improved!

[George answers by nailing a unsuspecting citizen in the back of the head, before turning to grin smugly at his twin.]

You were saying?

[Fred only barks with laughter in response before returning to the game. Because it is, after all, nothing but a game for them. And you lot are the prey. As you watch them sailing off on their path of mayhem, you may feel overcome with a sense of anger and resentment and oh! - was this paint always red? Or maybe you'll feel blue in light of your ruined outfit and hey! - now that's blue too! That's right, dear visitors, you've been hit with mood reflecting paint. These scoundrels aim to paint the day with all sorts of lovely emotions.

But not to worry, there may be justice for you scarlet-with-rage victims! After all, they've got to land to refuel sometime...]

[ooc; 4th wall is upon us and the twins are ready to play ball! anything and everything is open, and we welcome retaliation for their douchebaggery. the city was devoid of color for the past week. they just had to return it! both fred and george will be responding, as always!]

Comments

/ALL THE SNUGGLES FOR YOU, DO NOT CRY, IT IS JOYOUS

[aperfectthird]

[He yanks off his glasses and cleans them on his sweater vest, but the paint smears on the lenses. It's enough for him to see slightly better, and the paint is still bright red as he takes a step forward.]

George, I swear to God I am going to -

[And then his eyes flick to the left side of his head. His ear is there. Suddenly, the paint goes black, though the sun catches hints of dark blue and burgundy undertones, and his face is utterly stricken.]

...Fred?

THE BEST EVER /clings to and does not let go ;;

[feorge]

Ah, that's what it is, then. George and Fred. Horrid little monsters.

[He just grins in confirmation despite the obvious horror written across Percy's face, both in expression and paint.]

Black's really not your colour, Perce.

EEEE OMG YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL

[onlyholey]

You know, you'd think he wasn't all that pleased to see us, Fred. Hardly brotherly behavior, is it?

YOU ARE BOTH BEAUTIFUL THIS IS THE BEST DAY EVER

[aperfectthird]

[He's just. Still. Staring at Fred, and the paint is staying dark tones, but shifting from navy blue to burgundy to black - always quite slowly, certainly not keeping up with Percy's racing emotions.

Because this is Fred. Alive. And whole. Smiling.

And alive.]

You're here. How?

ASDJKLDFJ:ALSDKJ AGREED ;3;

[feorge]

Always business with this one. Believe you may be right this time around, George.

[He nudges George with his elbow, but keeps on grinning despite the jabs at their older brother.]

[onlyholey]

[George grins back at Percy. Look! They have a Fred! Isn't it brilliant, Perce?]

Don't you have a hug for your ickle brothers, Perce?

[aperfectthird]

[...you can almost hear the record player grinding back to life, and he sniffs impatiently, looks down as he fumbles his wand out, trying desperately to regain his composure.]

You covered me in paint. If I were inclined to hug you, you can rest assured that would have changed that.

[And now, huffily, he's starting to tergeo the paint off of himself - which, despite his best efforts to be TOTALLY FINE, is still black.]

[feorge]

Oh, shut it, you incredible twat.

[Composure is rubbish and paint be damned. He's tossing his broom aside and pulling Perce into a hug whether the man likes it or not. But he better damn well like it, because. Well. It's likely the last he'll ever get. Good thing Fred's arms are wrapped around Percy, or he might notice when the paint on his hands gies from yellow to a warm blue, near the color of flames. Grinning, always grinning, but Merlin, is there so much more beneath the surface.]

[aperfectthird]

[At first, Percy stiffens in Fred's embrace because ew, human contact - but then something breaks and he's clinging to Fred like a drowning man to a piece of driftwood in the middle of the ocean, the paint on his clothes still black, but with more dark blue undertones now.

Beat.

Then:]

Language, Fred.

[onlyholey]

[George is grinning from ear to ear. A corner of paint had been smeared across his cheek at some point, and it's blaring a bright magenta.]

Alright, Freddie. Give him room to breathe, will you?

[feorge]

[The tightness of the hug catches Fred off guard - suppose Percy notices his lack of heartbeat? the fact he hasn't got to breathe? - but he hugs him back nonetheless, and then he's just laughing. Pull away slowly, a bit hesitantly, because maybe this is the last time he'll hug his prat of a brother.]

Shall I leave you two wankers to yourselves, then?

[aperfectthird]

[As soon as Fred pulls back from the hug, it's clearly hard for Percy to get a hold of himself, but he does, forcibly, resuming his determined Tergeoing to get the still-black paint out of his clothes.]

Fred. Language. Honestly.