[Complete]
Who: Armand St. Just, Rabastan Lestrange, and probably Mello
Where: near the Fountain
When: Afternoon
Summary: Armand invites Bast out to prove his innocence. Mello tags along to scoff at guard Armand.
Rating: PG (violence and talk of death)
Without a basket to work on, Armand was even worse at waiting than usual. He didn't know what to look for. Rumor had it that Rabastan Lestrange preferred to go around as a cat. Was that how he was going to arrive? Where did he keep his wand then? Armand never completely understood about the wizards who changed their shape. He didn't even know if he'd actually see Mello, and his back itched knowing that the foul-mouthed man could be pointing his gun at him at that very moment. The situation here, especially with the Task Force and the Turks being the predominant forces for good in this city, more and more reminded Armand of the old adage, "With friends like these who needs enemies?"
Still, he had to remind himself, the Blood and some of Feanor's kin made these folk seem like tame kittens. It was all perspective. He'd grown used to peace. Being at war again was unsettling. He would feel a bit better if he was able to settle if Lestrange was the murderous wizard they wanted.
Armand sat on the crumbling wall around the fountain, kicking his heels. He huddled in his cloak and kept spitting the wind-blown strands of his ragged-edge hair out of mouth. In the mean time, he kept searching his memory for the incantation needed for the spell he'd asked Bast to come perform on his own wand. He could see it being done and hear someone speaking, but the words weren't terribly clear in his head, some magical things tended to slip easily from his mind.
Where: near the Fountain
When: Afternoon
Summary: Armand invites Bast out to prove his innocence. Mello tags along to scoff at guard Armand.
Rating: PG (violence and talk of death)
Without a basket to work on, Armand was even worse at waiting than usual. He didn't know what to look for. Rumor had it that Rabastan Lestrange preferred to go around as a cat. Was that how he was going to arrive? Where did he keep his wand then? Armand never completely understood about the wizards who changed their shape. He didn't even know if he'd actually see Mello, and his back itched knowing that the foul-mouthed man could be pointing his gun at him at that very moment. The situation here, especially with the Task Force and the Turks being the predominant forces for good in this city, more and more reminded Armand of the old adage, "With friends like these who needs enemies?"
Still, he had to remind himself, the Blood and some of Feanor's kin made these folk seem like tame kittens. It was all perspective. He'd grown used to peace. Being at war again was unsettling. He would feel a bit better if he was able to settle if Lestrange was the murderous wizard they wanted.
Armand sat on the crumbling wall around the fountain, kicking his heels. He huddled in his cloak and kept spitting the wind-blown strands of his ragged-edge hair out of mouth. In the mean time, he kept searching his memory for the incantation needed for the spell he'd asked Bast to come perform on his own wand. He could see it being done and hear someone speaking, but the words weren't terribly clear in his head, some magical things tended to slip easily from his mind.