((Skwisgaar included with permission.))Nathan and Skwisgaar had been cooped up for most of the day in Nathan's room, working on a few of the new songs, and they both agreed they were long overdue for a damn break already. They were the only members of Dethklok who did any actual work these days, anyway. Nathan headed straight for the Great Hall to order his usual-100 beers, exactly-while Skwisgaar returned to the room he shared with Toki
( ... )
((Italics = Swedish from this point on, so you won't have to worry about translating everything Skwis says. :p))
Skwisgaar's guitar was now about as big as he was, and he teetered slightly before regaining his balance, instinctively clutching the instrument to him even tighter as though it were a lifeline. He was a few pounds away from being the poster child for a starving developing country, an effect that wasn't helped much by the fact he was slightly taller than average for his age.
"Where is this?" he asked in Swedish, his eyes going wide as he took in the enormous Great Hall. "What am I here for?" Had his mother tried to ditch him again? Just like she'd repeatedly tried at the market... and the park... and the subway... He quickly tried to spot his mother, to no avail, and ended up returning the black haired boy's stare, looking miserable. What did he want?
Nathan actually blushed eeever so slightly when the Swede boy returned his stare. He couldn't help it; Skwisgaar really was pretty enough to be a girl at the moment. "Um... Hi? I don't speak gibberish. Sorry." He pointed to himself. "Nathan." Then he pointed to Skwisgaar and raised his eyebrows, looking at him expectantly.
"What?" Skwisgaar frowned, realising the other boy wasn't speaking Swedish. Maybe he was a tourist or something, here with his family? That might explain where his mother had gone off to. "Did my mom go away with your dad?"
If she had, that meant he was probably on his own for the night. Again. He furrowed his brows in concentration and bit his lip, trying to work out Nathan's English. "I don't speaks... knows de good Engelsk," he offered, pointing to himself when Nathan did, confused. Then he suddenly understood, and his expression brightened slightly. "Skwisgaar. I's Skwisgaar. You's Nathan?"
Kuronue was curious. He'd been warned, of course, but he was curious. His curiosity was one of his worst traits, some would say.
He tasted some of the turkey, and was a little disappointed until everything suddenly seemed enormous. "What?" Then he realised that no, it wasn't large, he was just very tiny.
And fae apparently. About the size of the average forearm. With dragon wings and everything. He felt violated.
Kuronue glared and tested the tiny little wings, hovering at eye level with the human who apparently had wings. He hadn't been aware there was another humanoid at Hogwarts who did. Apart from maybe Ryuk.
"I did not! I had these before!" Well, different wings, but wings nonetheless. He put his hands on his hips and leaned forward, glaring a little.
Brienne knew better. She'd been around Hogwarts enough to know that there were certainly times it was better not to eat the food. But surely not everything on such a massive spread could be dangerous... could it?
She put some meat on a plate, because it seemed less suspect than the salad, and some bread and potatoes and took a tentative bite, waiting to see what would happen.
Of course, something did. For one thing, the table got smaller. For another, she had no idea where she was. She was in a castle, one that was a lot bigger than her father's home on the Sapphire Isle. And for another, she couldn't see her father. There were plenty of grown-ups around, but none she recognized.
She did see a group of boys who were around her age who were talking to each other, and she thought about going over to them, but they probably wouldn't play with her anyway, and they'd probably tell her she had cooties, and then she'd have to fight them, just to prove that she did not have cooties, and
( ... )
((OOC: Skwis again appears with permission. XD))For one reason or another, even Smaug had decided to partake of the Thanksgiving feast set up in the Great Hall, which had an entirely predictable outcome: There was now an infant dragon, roughly the size of a muscular lynx, on the rampage across the tables. He occasionally coughed spouts of miniature flame that were setting anything they came in contact with on fire-from the food to the stone floor-as the house-elves scrambled to put them out as quickly as possible
( ... )
Brienne watched the capering of the boy and the dragon with wide-eyed excitement. She wasn't sure who she expected to win, but was pleased when it turned out to be the dragon.
She grinned happily as they landed at her feet. The boy, up close, sort of looked like a Targaryen. Maybe. If Brienne had ever seen one, which she hadn't.
She offered a hand to help Skwisgaar up. "You have a pet dragon?" she asked. "That's wonderful!" She had forgotten for the moment that boys had cooties.
With his shoulder-length blond hair and somewhat androgynous features, it would be as easy to take Skwisgaar for a pretty girl as for a boy, much to his irritation -- at least until he spoke. He thankfully sounded like the boy he was.
"Thanks you," he said, this time in poor English, as the girl helped him up. Smaug climbed up to perch on the boy's shoulders, making an inquisitive sort of chirruping noise. The dragon wasn't really Skwisgaar's, but he wasn't about to admit that and risk someone trying to take it from him.
"Ja, dragon ams mine vän. Mine... friend? I's Skwisgaar," he said, pointing to himself just in case the girl couldn't understand his English. "Who's you? Don'ts thinks I's know you froms before."
The jello things all looked suspiciously recipe-like to Coraline. They also reminded her of something her dad might have made, and she still missed her parents, even knowing that this time they were safe. Which was why she tried a very small spoonful of the one with the marshmallows, just to say that she had. It didn't look quite as dubious as the others.
And then she blinked, and swayed a little, feeling as if the ground had lifted - or, no, more as if she'd suddenly grown taller. And this wasn't where she'd been a few seconds ago. "What?" she murmured to herself, looking around at the hall. "There wasn't even a door - oh. I remember this place!"
She looked down. The little - creature (there was a proper word, but she couldn't quite think of it) seemed friendly, and familar. "It's... a school," she explained, growing more certain as she spoke. "A school of magic. I was here about ten years ago."
One would think that with the Maou and his brother back home, that Gwendal would have more time and be a little more relaxed. Which, may have been the case had it not been for the fact that he still had all the paperwork to do as well as the anxiety of just what they were doing and how much he'd have to clean up when he went back
( ... )
"You're alright?" Miranda had taken to wandering around to watch the carnage. "At least you weren't turned into a kid." Hopefully he was just tripping and wasn't about to turn into a psychopath or anything.
"I'm just grooving with the atmosphere," Gwendal said. "It's all cool, baby. He looked around, his head a little unsteady, his gaze on things no one could see. "It's a trip, the trails," he said, a little vaguely.
"Trails?" Miranda repeated. "How many fingers am I holding up? Have you taken anything besides the food? Or have you had something to drink? And if it's the last one, where can I find some?"
He didn't smell of drink, but you could always hope.
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Skwisgaar's guitar was now about as big as he was, and he teetered slightly before regaining his balance, instinctively clutching the instrument to him even tighter as though it were a lifeline. He was a few pounds away from being the poster child for a starving developing country, an effect that wasn't helped much by the fact he was slightly taller than average for his age.
"Where is this?" he asked in Swedish, his eyes going wide as he took in the enormous Great Hall. "What am I here for?" Had his mother tried to ditch him again? Just like she'd repeatedly tried at the market... and the park... and the subway... He quickly tried to spot his mother, to no avail, and ended up returning the black haired boy's stare, looking miserable. What did he want?
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If she had, that meant he was probably on his own for the night. Again. He furrowed his brows in concentration and bit his lip, trying to work out Nathan's English. "I don't speaks... knows de good Engelsk," he offered, pointing to himself when Nathan did, confused. Then he suddenly understood, and his expression brightened slightly. "Skwisgaar. I's Skwisgaar. You's Nathan?"
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He tasted some of the turkey, and was a little disappointed until everything suddenly seemed enormous. "What?" Then he realised that no, it wasn't large, he was just very tiny.
And fae apparently. About the size of the average forearm. With dragon wings and everything. He felt violated.
"WHAT?!"
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"You took my wings!" Okay, he's lying, but Ryuk likes his wings, damnit!
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"I did not! I had these before!" Well, different wings, but wings nonetheless. He put his hands on his hips and leaned forward, glaring a little.
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Brienne knew better. She'd been around Hogwarts enough to know that there were certainly times it was better not to eat the food. But surely not everything on such a massive spread could be dangerous... could it?
She put some meat on a plate, because it seemed less suspect than the salad, and some bread and potatoes and took a tentative bite, waiting to see what would happen.
Of course, something did. For one thing, the table got smaller. For another, she had no idea where she was. She was in a castle, one that was a lot bigger than her father's home on the Sapphire Isle. And for another, she couldn't see her father. There were plenty of grown-ups around, but none she recognized.
She did see a group of boys who were around her age who were talking to each other, and she thought about going over to them, but they probably wouldn't play with her anyway, and they'd probably tell her she had cooties, and then she'd have to fight them, just to prove that she did not have cooties, and ( ... )
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She grinned happily as they landed at her feet. The boy, up close, sort of looked like a Targaryen. Maybe. If Brienne had ever seen one, which she hadn't.
She offered a hand to help Skwisgaar up. "You have a pet dragon?" she asked. "That's wonderful!" She had forgotten for the moment that boys had cooties.
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"Thanks you," he said, this time in poor English, as the girl helped him up. Smaug climbed up to perch on the boy's shoulders, making an inquisitive sort of chirruping noise. The dragon wasn't really Skwisgaar's, but he wasn't about to admit that and risk someone trying to take it from him.
"Ja, dragon ams mine vän. Mine... friend? I's Skwisgaar," he said, pointing to himself just in case the girl couldn't understand his English. "Who's you? Don'ts thinks I's know you froms before."
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And then she blinked, and swayed a little, feeling as if the ground had lifted - or, no, more as if she'd suddenly grown taller. And this wasn't where she'd been a few seconds ago. "What?" she murmured to herself, looking around at the hall. "There wasn't even a door - oh. I remember this place!"
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Hopefully he was just tripping and wasn't about to turn into a psychopath or anything.
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He didn't smell of drink, but you could always hope.
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