RP\OWL: On Wing
Characters: Rodolphus Lestrange, Rabastan Lestrange, Fenrir Greyback
Location: Somewhere in Eastern Europe
Date: 5th December 1999| Afternoon
Status/Warning: Private
Summary: The winds have changed, and a brother seeks his way home.
Completion: Incomplete.
That far north, hail and snow frozen and re-melted glittered up like scattered diamonds, tinged orange by the failing sun. The clearing by the old cottage was empty save a single figure standing in the center, on a small bump in the earth, perhaps an old burial mound made frigid by the weather. The figure had one arm raised, held cooked, and stood impossibly still for a very long time.
He was patient.
'I still say you should have eaten the bloody pidgeon when you had the chance.'
"I think she's earned her life, Bella, my dear." The man replied to no one. "Ah, here she is!"
A dark owl with deep chestnut colored wings lighted on his outstretched arm, a small glowing stick in it's beak.
"Very good, my pet, very good." He exchanged the stick for a dead mouse, which the owl ravaged without a second thought. The man was still talking. "Now, now you must be prepared for the longest journey of them all--the journey there, there and back--"
'It's about bloody time.'
"Yes, yes I know!" the man waved his free arm impatiently, although he didn't sound annoyed. He produced two letters and tied them to the owl's legs with bits of pliant vine.
Brother,
I trust the city and all it's inanity have kept you amused. Heard from a sparrow that a friend of ours has made his way out of that wretched oubliette. It would be rude of me us not to welcome him back. I'm coming home.
Rod
Old Friend,
You'll forgive me if this reaches you a little late, but I've only just heard of your recent break for freedom. After taking in this wonderful northern air, I do believe it's about time I set myself to more interesting tasks than training owls. That means I would prefer you not harm this one.
Rod
The owl finished it's meal and took off. The man watched it go, paying no mind to the tiny globs of gore that had already started to freeze onto his heavy outer coat.
"It's finally our time," he turned his head to the sky, snow beginning to fall in patterns of chilly lace. "On wing we come, my love, and they will never know."
Location: Somewhere in Eastern Europe
Date: 5th December 1999| Afternoon
Status/Warning: Private
Summary: The winds have changed, and a brother seeks his way home.
Completion: Incomplete.
That far north, hail and snow frozen and re-melted glittered up like scattered diamonds, tinged orange by the failing sun. The clearing by the old cottage was empty save a single figure standing in the center, on a small bump in the earth, perhaps an old burial mound made frigid by the weather. The figure had one arm raised, held cooked, and stood impossibly still for a very long time.
He was patient.
'I still say you should have eaten the bloody pidgeon when you had the chance.'
"I think she's earned her life, Bella, my dear." The man replied to no one. "Ah, here she is!"
A dark owl with deep chestnut colored wings lighted on his outstretched arm, a small glowing stick in it's beak.
"Very good, my pet, very good." He exchanged the stick for a dead mouse, which the owl ravaged without a second thought. The man was still talking. "Now, now you must be prepared for the longest journey of them all--the journey there, there and back--"
'It's about bloody time.'
"Yes, yes I know!" the man waved his free arm impatiently, although he didn't sound annoyed. He produced two letters and tied them to the owl's legs with bits of pliant vine.
Brother,
I trust the city and all it's inanity have kept you amused. Heard from a sparrow that a friend of ours has made his way out of that wretched oubliette. It would be rude of me us not to welcome him back. I'm coming home.
Rod
Old Friend,
You'll forgive me if this reaches you a little late, but I've only just heard of your recent break for freedom. After taking in this wonderful northern air, I do believe it's about time I set myself to more interesting tasks than training owls. That means I would prefer you not harm this one.
Rod
The owl finished it's meal and took off. The man watched it go, paying no mind to the tiny globs of gore that had already started to freeze onto his heavy outer coat.
"It's finally our time," he turned his head to the sky, snow beginning to fall in patterns of chilly lace. "On wing we come, my love, and they will never know."