Application for Sir Percy Blakeney, Baronet, from "The Scarlet Pimpernel"

[sir_percy_b]

A tall, blond gentleman, irreproachably and richly apparelled in a suit of fine cloth, with lace jabot and ruffles, high top-boots, and riding breeches, gallops into the Great Hall astride a pure-bread Arabian horse. He swiftly pulls on the reigns and rides back out the doors. After a moment, both horse and rider return. Six foot odd of

Comments

[themountie]

The 'political prisoner' thing was, needless to say, slightly... tricky territory, morally speaking, but Fraser was really quite impressed overall by the man, not to mention his steed. "That's a fine horse you have, sir," he greeted Sir Blakeney with a smile, eyeing the horse over. The large white dog at his side whined and raised a paw.

[sir_percy_b]

*with a bow* My thanks, sir. Sultan is a demmed marvelous creature and the pride of my stables.

You've got quite the impressive animal too. What kind of breed is your dog?

[themountie]

"Ah, thank you kindly." Fraser stepped back in order to indicate his companion. "He's half-wolf, actually. This is Diefenbaker, and my name is Constable Benton Fraser, of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. A pleasure to meet you, sir." Then, he hesitated. "I do wonder if you could... elaborate on the subject of these... political prisoners?"

[sir_percy_b]

Half- wolf! Lud love you Constable, that's quite an impressive dog then. How ever did you come by such a demmed marvelous breed?

*smiles inanely* Political prisoners? Zounds, sir, what would you like to know? I, along with nineteen other fellows, help the unfairly imprisoned to get out of the country.

[wayward_son124]

((Hee! Love ^^; I think you nailed his voice damned perfect! Dean, on the other hand...))

What the... fuck?

Dean's face contorted into one of slight horror as he read the application, eyes flickering constantly to this... guy in front of him. What the HELL, was he from nine millions years ago or something? The 18th century? WHAT? Eyebrows slanted into an expression of wariness, his folded his arms and set down the parchment. Right.

"Show me that booze you got and I think we can talk."

[sir_percy_b]

Sir Percy rummaged through the saddlebags and returned with a bottle of brandy, wrapped in several layers of cloth. He handed it over to Dean with his signature, inane grin. "And here you are, sir! Bottled before that demmed Revolution mucked everything up, so it should meet standards."

[slothbefouler]

*very pleased* You rescue political prisoners from the French? That is damned good of you, sir - I was a prisoner myself for a while, you know.

I am Captain Jack Aubrey, at your service. I do believe you should be in Gryffindor. And after you are Sorted, we must drink to the confusion of Old Boney, eh?

[sir_percy_b]

*bows* A pleasure to meet you, Captain!

Odd's fish, I'm afraid you have the advantage of me. What is Gryffindor, and who, exactly, is Old Boney? Has the National Razor gained yet another nickname?

[slothbefouler]

Gryffindor is the House where the bold fellows go. You do seem like a bold fellow yourself, so I daresay it would suit you.

Old Boney? Why, Napoleon Buonaparte, the Emperor of France - surely you must know of him. A damned tyrant, to be sure.

[sir_percy_b]

Gryffindor sounds like it would suit me admirably.

*slightly puzzled* Unless the situation has suddenly changed in my... sudden appearance here, France is ruled by a Republic headed by the Committee of Public Safety. The closest thing to an emporer they've got is Maximilian Robespierre, and I doubt the fellow, as blood-thirsty as he appears to be, would up and declare himself an emperor.

[mr_vera]

You sound like a big damn hero.

Hope you clean up after that horse.

[sir_percy_b]

I'm hardly a hero, sir. I'm simply a gent with far too much time on his hands. And a yacht. If anything, the other fellows in the League deserve your thanks. I'm simply that "demmed idiot Blakeney".

*with a wave at the horse* Fear not! I've worked as a stable hand before. Begad, I'm glad I can normally hire fellows to do that stuff.

[mr_vera]

Yeah, the house-elves ain't gonna be too happy about shovelin' up horse shit.

So you got any guns?

[sir_percy_b]

I do have a pistol, sir. Would you care for it?

[march_theater]

Jo liked this applicant a lot. By which I mean, a lot. There was a lot she wanted to ask, but what she settled on was, "Boxing lessons? Really? I would love that, sir."

[sir_percy_b]

Sir Percy bowed and kissed Jo's hand. "A pleasure to meet you. But, odd's fish, m'dear young lady- you really want boxing lessons? It's something of a violent past-time and I can't say that your mother would approve. However, I can deny nothing to a beauty such as yourself. If you are certain, the offer still stands."

[march_theater]

Jo bristled a little. "Why not boxing lessons? And I'm certain my mother wouldn't approve, but she's not here, is she?" She hadn't been back from... wherever it was she'd been long, but she had noticed that girls here at Hogwarts did not necessarily have to adhere to the same rigid codes of conduct as they did back home, and she was determined to make the most of that.

[sir_percy_b]

"Forgive me for offending, m'dear. It's merely that you're quite young. I wasn't aware that you were alone here." Sir Percy smiled kindly. He himself was eight- and- twenty, but often felt much older. "If you'd like boxing lessons, then you shall have them."