All's fair...

[halftheslain]

Freyja is a bored goddess. This is never a good thing. There seems to be an inordinate amount of moping going on which is not cool by her book. So she has started a crackplot. Of course, she doesn't know it's a crackplot. She just thinks she's helping these poor, unfortunate mortals have some fun

Comments

[it_took_five]

He's grown up now, a former Auror (and formerly dead too), and now a professor at his old school. Gideon doesn't need wild and crazy urges, but now he has one, and runs off to do execute it, so to speak.

[inmywardrobe]

The professor has always wanted to act completely idiotic and insensitive in front of a crowd, something he's never done because, well, at an Oxford lecture...

"And in nineteen thirty-three, the Germans began to build flying machines. Yes, flying machines, which allowed them to thoroughly pummel us in this war I just left." There's a pause... "And we LET them!" He adds, quite loudly. "I say it's all our fault!"

[sweariwontdie]

Already a little soused when the goddess's plot hit him, Armand wanders into the main room, singing now more than humming. "And who are you, monseiur? Who's fault you say?" He's been drinking peach schnapps and isn't used to drinking at all for months on end.

[inmywardrobe]

"I say it's England's fault! We're to blame!" He shakes his fist and states: "We let them!"

[sweariwontdie]

"Oh, I agree then. It's always England's fault." One apologies for the tipsy Frenchman because he won't.

[mancalledspade]

It's been awhile since Spade was crackplotted, but the summer spirit blowing through the Mansion has caught him by surprise, and suddenly the murder investigation seems like a silly thing to be worried about. Instead, he has fetched a couple bats and several 1920s-style mitts from the plothole.

He is now in the main room, minus his normal jacket and fedora, and attempting to recruit people into a game out on the grounds. His face is open and almost boyish, though the smile he flashes the goddess, should she look his way, is a bit too charming for that.

[originaldrew]

Nancy Drew, all American girl, is always up for playing the all American pastime. "Are you getting a game together, Mr. Spade?"

[mancalledspade]

"Trying to, sweetheart. You play?"

[originaldrew]

"I'm alright." Of course, that means she's almost perfect at it.

ZOOM

[silver_sanguine]

In that case, there is now a gleaming brown car circling the Mansion at approximately a hundred miles an hour.

We hope you're happy, Freyja.

Re: ZOOM

[halftheslain]

She is elated. (Of course she doesn't quite know what the shiny thing is but it makes her very happy.)

[sixpearls]

A proper English lady has plenty of inhibitions; that's how it should be. When they're undone--

When they're undone, the first thing she does is take her hair down, because it's a nuisance to have up all the time. She shakes it out and brushes it with her fingers and lets it tumble over her shoulders, long and chestnut-brown. Then she goes out to the garden with no shoes on.

[decentscoundrel]

At first Pyetr doesn't recognize her; really, how would he? He's found his way into the garden himself, and is stripping the leaves off the hedges; childish, to be sure, but that's what happens when you crackplot a man who is, much of the time, emotionally twelve.

[sixpearls]

When she sees him, she laughs and waves; she has her skirts held up in one hand, because she's been walking in puddles and getting the hem of her dress wet and muddy. "Pyetr!"

[decentscoundrel]

"I'm not doing anything."