RP: Wake Up, Open the Door, and Escape to the Sea
Characters: Sam Kennerly, Seamus Finnigan, Cho Weasley
Location: The Junk Shop --- Diagon Alley
Date: July 28, 2000
Status/Warning: Closed/Angst like WOAH
Summary: Sam finally learns the truth and runs into the worst possible person.
Completion: Incomplete
The day was surreal in it's humidity; the air weighing heavy in Sam's lungs before he exhaled again. In the shop wasn't much better, although the slow, creaking rotations of a ceiling fan helped a little, and being on shift with Seamus garunteed he wouldn't mind much, anyway. Sea had a way of being that had helped Sam forget so much--at least while he was at work. Outside of the shop a sinking, desperate feeling waited to crawl all over his skin and make him feel wretched for the rest of the day.
It also didn't help that Sam had never cared for opinion pieces in newspapers, a habit he acquired from his father. He'd never been one to abide people getting on soapboxes about anything, even if it was just in print. The most use editorial pages had gotten in the Kennery household were scrap and doddle paper--far more useful--as far as Mr. Kennerly had been concerned. So Sam went through the front shelves that afternoon content but ultimately nervous; he didn't want to leave, because leaving and returning to his clutter room at the Leaky would only be another reminder of how little he'd really accomplished.
"Um, this one's pretty much in order!" Sam called down towards the back, where Seamus was shifting some of the older stock forward in hopes that it would sell. 'Order' was about as subjective and misleading a term as could possibly be used--especially when the hitherto undefined magical property of a jewelrybox made the center shelf warp downward, making it impossible for anything else there to sit right.
Location: The Junk Shop --- Diagon Alley
Date: July 28, 2000
Status/Warning: Closed/Angst like WOAH
Summary: Sam finally learns the truth and runs into the worst possible person.
Completion: Incomplete
The day was surreal in it's humidity; the air weighing heavy in Sam's lungs before he exhaled again. In the shop wasn't much better, although the slow, creaking rotations of a ceiling fan helped a little, and being on shift with Seamus garunteed he wouldn't mind much, anyway. Sea had a way of being that had helped Sam forget so much--at least while he was at work. Outside of the shop a sinking, desperate feeling waited to crawl all over his skin and make him feel wretched for the rest of the day.
It also didn't help that Sam had never cared for opinion pieces in newspapers, a habit he acquired from his father. He'd never been one to abide people getting on soapboxes about anything, even if it was just in print. The most use editorial pages had gotten in the Kennery household were scrap and doddle paper--far more useful--as far as Mr. Kennerly had been concerned. So Sam went through the front shelves that afternoon content but ultimately nervous; he didn't want to leave, because leaving and returning to his clutter room at the Leaky would only be another reminder of how little he'd really accomplished.
"Um, this one's pretty much in order!" Sam called down towards the back, where Seamus was shifting some of the older stock forward in hopes that it would sell. 'Order' was about as subjective and misleading a term as could possibly be used--especially when the hitherto undefined magical property of a jewelrybox made the center shelf warp downward, making it impossible for anything else there to sit right.