A self-fulfilling prophecy of endless possibility... [Open, multiple threads welcome]
In the castle of the Princess of Storms, there's a Time Lord roaming the halls. Not that this is anything unusual lately, but today he's picking up random bits of clockwork and shoving them into his pockets as he goes. Anything that seems to have any hint of a personality gets left alone... and he's letting go anything that tries to crawl out of his pockets after he picks it up... but there's plenty of other small mechanical things surreptitiously tucked into his pockets, presumably to be taken apart and reassembled in new configurations once he's back in his room.
There's a slim possibility the Princess or the castle guardians or something else might frown on him abducting various objects for his own purposes, but... he's fairly certain they won't be missed. Or that they can be easily replaced, if they are. And anyway, this is important. It's for science.
...or to satisfy his own curiosity, which amounts to the same thing.
Outside the barracks, behind the back where the woods grow close to the walls, Harry's sitting cross-legged on the ground with his back set against the wall. In front of him, in a small circle cleared of twigs and leaf litter, there's a hunk of bread smeared with honey sitting on the ground.
The bread he got from the storehouse. The honey was a little harder - he might have a few visible bee stings, despite his best efforts. And he could have done with milk, but he doesn't even want to think about where he'd get that from around here. When in doubt, going back to the old basic folklore never hurts - but so far, nothing's taken the bait.
Harry shifts his weight restlessly, sighing a little. It shouldn't be this hard to lure out a minor fae in a wood full of them, and he is going to be really annoyed if he went to all that effort for nothing.
There's a slim possibility the Princess or the castle guardians or something else might frown on him abducting various objects for his own purposes, but... he's fairly certain they won't be missed. Or that they can be easily replaced, if they are. And anyway, this is important. It's for science.
...or to satisfy his own curiosity, which amounts to the same thing.
Outside the barracks, behind the back where the woods grow close to the walls, Harry's sitting cross-legged on the ground with his back set against the wall. In front of him, in a small circle cleared of twigs and leaf litter, there's a hunk of bread smeared with honey sitting on the ground.
The bread he got from the storehouse. The honey was a little harder - he might have a few visible bee stings, despite his best efforts. And he could have done with milk, but he doesn't even want to think about where he'd get that from around here. When in doubt, going back to the old basic folklore never hurts - but so far, nothing's taken the bait.
Harry shifts his weight restlessly, sighing a little. It shouldn't be this hard to lure out a minor fae in a wood full of them, and he is going to be really annoyed if he went to all that effort for nothing.