feorge | oo6.

[ accidental video ]

[An absolute silence hangs between the twins as they stare at a picture frame hanging on the wall. Some might recognize the photo within it, others still might recognize the Hall it's posted in. And even if they don't, Fred and George can hardly spare a moment to care, because that silence has a rather tight grasp on them, forcing them to recognize them both for what it is.

Ronald Weasley has left the City.

Fred looks over to George, a look of discontent (and perhaps even anger) clear on his face, before looking back over to the frame.]

So that's it, then? Gone without so much as a sound, just a photograph in some dreadful hallway?

You tell me. You've the one who's been here longer.

[George runs a hand over his face. Without even thinking about it, his hand reaches out and grips firmly onto Fred's shoulder.]

He'd barely even got here.

[Fred visibly tenses at the hand on his shoulder, much as it should be a comfort, and he looks up to the ceiling for a moment before shaking his head.]

Unbelievable tosspot.

[His voice does not sound strained there, thank you very much, and there is nothing even close to a deep, shaky exhale to follow before he shrugs George's hand from his shoulder and turns to leave.]

We ought to go muck up his room. Test out those new fireworks.

[George crosses his arms and fixes Fred with a hard stare.]

Don't be a prat, Fred. That's the last thing everyone needs right now.

The last thing everyone needs right now--!

[In the process of shouting, and Fred only stops to notice the device is recording them. A low string of swear words can be heard as he walks up to it and his hand covers the feed for the briefest of moments before everything starts spinning and the feed ends with a crash!]

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

[So he just buries his head in his hands, shakes his head but his entire frame seems to shake with him, and he speaks very quietly. Muffled through his hands, through the constricting of his throat, and even if it had been clear as day, it wouldn't make any sense. But it's all he's got left in him.]

I don't know.

I know, eh?

[Do you think he wants to leave, Fred? He doesn't want to go back to a home without you anymore than you do. Instead he just keeps that thought buried in the back of his mind. But today, well... its a little harder to ignore. He crosses his arms a little tighter, holding himself it.]

It's all bollocks.

[George is standing near the portrait when Harry arrives, arms crossed. He nods at him in greeting.]

Okay, I understand.

For what it's worth, and I know it's not worth a lot, I am sorry...

I...guess not...

[There's a slight smile in his voice - relief, gratitude, but he plays it off as teasing even if it's half-hearted.]

You know how I loathe to put you out of your way.

Don't muck up his room. I can pack it up in a few days' time and I'd rather not clean up after you two as well as Ron. That'll be impossible even with magic.

But you do it anyway, I know.

[Family's family.]

What else can I expect from my older brothers, hm?

May -- [ ... Fred, oh Fred, all she wants is to not boil over with tears right now. But tat's a difficult task at this juncture. ]

-- Where are you? In your room?

[One word for you, young earl: twat. 8|]

S'pose it's about as surprising as the pillocks that go about watching, right?

[Open invitation for snapping is a good thing! He'll take it maybe a little too gladly, something to focus on instead of the emptiness of Ron's absence.]

Including you, I see.

[Pity the living.]

[Much as Fred tries to keep the thought at the back of his mind, it's the one thing he's always thinking of. Always, and it never changes. Ron's leaving just makes it that much harder to ignore.]

It is, the whole—bloody—lot—of—it!

[Emphasis on each word, and maybe it's a bad thing he didn't keep the device in his hand after all because now he's just punching the wall. Your hand doesn't heal quite as well as the magical City technology, Freddie.]

[He'll nod in return, crossing over to the portrait - he'd been half-expecting having to search it out, but no, here it is, a perfect likeness of Ron. He gives it a good, hard look, almost as though expecting it to speak back. So this is what they're left with, the things Ron had and a picture in a building full of strangers who've come and gone. A picture, and for a minute he sympathizes with Fred's desire for destruction, as though a good hex at the portrait could make things better, somehow. His hand tightens around the wand in his pocket for a moment, before he lets it go and raises a hand to the frame, stopping short of touching the cold metal.

It's the same as a broken shard of glass from a mirror in a shabby pub, an album full of those long gone, a badge for one of the first casualties of the war, a ripped photograph, a forgotten letter, odds and ends that don't make up a memory but are almost close enough to pretend.

He doesn't much feel like pretending, now.]

[No. It's what he ought to say, isn't it? He should turn her away immediately, because company is something he can't have right now, shouldn't have and not because he's upset and breaking things but because he's not meant to have it. He doesn't want to see her, he doesn't want to see anyone or anything for that matter.

Easier to be angry, but wouldn't it be easier if he was just dead?

The way he's meant to be, but he's not and it's beautiful and wonderful and terrible all at once. He's spent so long in denial of these aching fears that maybe it's a dream or maybe it's not real but either way, they'll all leave eventually -- and now he isn't sure what to feel. What to think or what to do.

Boring the heels of his hands into his eyes, he exhales shakily and nods his head.]

Yeah.

[ooc; for timeline's sake, we'll say this is after the other action threads and Fred's locked himself in their room. Also: this is my first phone tag since breaking my phone and I still can't see the keyboard so I apologise for mistakes. :c]

I'll try to keep Fred away, then. But I make promises.

Bloody- Fred!

[George jumps in, and in a moment he has his brother around the shoulders, pulling him away from the wall. He knows it'll piss him off. At least if he punches him it'll hurt less than the wall.]

Thanks. I appreciate it.

You lost someone from home, didn't you?

Alright, Harry?

[Those words, that he's said a million time to the other boy. They don't hold their usual light-heartedness today.]

[He drops his hand when George speaks, as though reminded of his presence, but doesn't look over at him. He's suddenly aware of the fact that this is just one portrait out of many, loads of people whose names he doesn't know, who are also lost to others in the City - if there's anyone left to miss them. There's an entire building dedicated to them, for crying out loud, and this - he can't say how or why, but this matters to him, is something he should've realized much sooner.

He nods, even if he'd said otherwise just a few minutes ago, but does it matter? George knows the answer regardless.]

Rubbish city, this.

[She nods quietly.]

Uh huh...he was my first real human friend ever...but its okay, you know?

[Her smile is sad, but it's still a smile.]

I know I'll see him again someday, and maybe if I'm lucky, he'll come back.

Thanks, George.

[For that. For not leaving. For not wanting a row like our brother. For everything.]

I suppose as it is just about as surprising as proper English escapes you. I suppose your manners match your mouth, don't they?

[]

's not a problem, Ginny.

[It's what he does, isn't it? George Weasley, the one who sticks around.]

Yeah. Maybe they all will.

Page 4 of 8

oo6.

video; 2/2

voice;

Action

action;

no subject

no subject

voice;

voice;

voice;

video;

SCREAMING WHAT EVEN THANK YOU??? AHHH /)////(\

voice;

Action

action;

video;

voice;

Action

no subject

action;

action;

no subject

voice;

EEEEEEEEEEEEE /MOLEST

voice;

no subject