(no subject)
Date/Time: 'A Wedding & Two Funerals', Saturday, October 3rd, Late Evening.
Location: Misc Dungeon Room, Hospital Wing
Open to: Any helpful nearby patrolling Aurors
Currently involving: Remy, NPC DE, Adelle, Laurence, Cordelia, Matthieu (NPC character)
Warning: Blood and gore. Not for the young or squeamish.
But he was, and he always hated the steady dripping of the water that was probably the lake pressing against ancient stone walls. He hated the close, damp darkness that was barely held back by the light from his wand. He hated knowing that if he was caught by an Auror down here, he'd have no excuse other than perhaps 'there was a really cute Slytherin', and even that was pushing it. Oh the Gryffindor legacy, how it pained him.
Remy sighed slightly and kept walking, sometimes peering through the window of closed classroom doors, sometimes catching the whiff of old potions, or more often that not, the sublime noxious delicacy of damp mould.
He thought, for a moment, he heard the shuffling of feet behind him, the sound of voices, and his sharp eyes darted to the side, looking for a place to hide lest the Aurors catch him. An empty classroom, an open doorway, something to use in a pinch.
There. A door slightly ajar, and Remy darted inside, shutting the door quietly behind him and leaning against the wall, listening for the sound of approaching footsteps. Nothing.
A moment later, he turned around. And stopped.
"What the..."
Location: Misc Dungeon Room, Hospital Wing
Open to: Any helpful nearby patrolling Aurors
Currently involving: Remy, NPC DE, Adelle, Laurence, Cordelia, Matthieu (NPC character)
Warning: Blood and gore. Not for the young or squeamish.
But he was, and he always hated the steady dripping of the water that was probably the lake pressing against ancient stone walls. He hated the close, damp darkness that was barely held back by the light from his wand. He hated knowing that if he was caught by an Auror down here, he'd have no excuse other than perhaps 'there was a really cute Slytherin', and even that was pushing it. Oh the Gryffindor legacy, how it pained him.
Remy sighed slightly and kept walking, sometimes peering through the window of closed classroom doors, sometimes catching the whiff of old potions, or more often that not, the sublime noxious delicacy of damp mould.
He thought, for a moment, he heard the shuffling of feet behind him, the sound of voices, and his sharp eyes darted to the side, looking for a place to hide lest the Aurors catch him. An empty classroom, an open doorway, something to use in a pinch.
There. A door slightly ajar, and Remy darted inside, shutting the door quietly behind him and leaning against the wall, listening for the sound of approaching footsteps. Nothing.
A moment later, he turned around. And stopped.
"What the..."