RP: Spying Eyes and Helping Hands
Characters: Percy Weasley, Theodore Nott, Cho Chang
Location: London Flat | Residence | St. Mungo's
Date: October 28th, 1999
Status/Warning: Closed
Summary: Percy seeks some medical attention.
Completion: In-complete
Hermes fluffed and flapped his wings, wide, dark eyes peering out into the night.
"Calm down, Hermes, there's nothing out there---aah, oww!" Percy flung himself back in his chair, breathing shallowly and sweating a little. It was a shoddy job, he knew it would be--healing potions and charms were never his specialty. But then again, between Penny and his naturally cautious nature, they'd never needed to be. And if he didn't do something about it, he knew be looking at possibly permanent damage. The two fingers that should have mended in Borgin and Brukes didn't move like they should have, and the ridge of his palm was still numb.
"Guess it's now or never then." Shrugging into a sweater and then awkwardly positioning the heavy winter cloak over his shoulders, Percy closed his eyes and willed himself to the only person who he could really trust--
Aparating while injured, as it turned out, felt a lot like what he imagined spliching would. His hand exploded with pain, as if the magic were trying it's hardest to re-break the bones and open every small cut into a gaping wound.
He appeared to a dark but grand sitting room, warm firelight shifting shadows across every surface. The air taken out of Percy by the transport had trouble returning to his lungs, but he managed to rasp once, through the pain, "Theodore, it's Percy!" And then slump against a deep stained chair, lights dancing against the backs of his eyes.
Location: London Flat | Residence | St. Mungo's
Date: October 28th, 1999
Status/Warning: Closed
Summary: Percy seeks some medical attention.
Completion: In-complete
Hermes fluffed and flapped his wings, wide, dark eyes peering out into the night.
"Calm down, Hermes, there's nothing out there---aah, oww!" Percy flung himself back in his chair, breathing shallowly and sweating a little. It was a shoddy job, he knew it would be--healing potions and charms were never his specialty. But then again, between Penny and his naturally cautious nature, they'd never needed to be. And if he didn't do something about it, he knew be looking at possibly permanent damage. The two fingers that should have mended in Borgin and Brukes didn't move like they should have, and the ridge of his palm was still numb.
"Guess it's now or never then." Shrugging into a sweater and then awkwardly positioning the heavy winter cloak over his shoulders, Percy closed his eyes and willed himself to the only person who he could really trust--
Aparating while injured, as it turned out, felt a lot like what he imagined spliching would. His hand exploded with pain, as if the magic were trying it's hardest to re-break the bones and open every small cut into a gaping wound.
He appeared to a dark but grand sitting room, warm firelight shifting shadows across every surface. The air taken out of Percy by the transport had trouble returning to his lungs, but he managed to rasp once, through the pain, "Theodore, it's Percy!" And then slump against a deep stained chair, lights dancing against the backs of his eyes.