RP: Mulling things over
Character: Theodore Nott, anyone?
Location: Diagon Alley
Date: February 18, 2000
Status/Warning: Public
Summary: Theo get dinner, to supplement his food for thought.
Completion: In progress
The quiet around the house finally had gotten to Theo. He'd been reading Friday, and was unable to concentrate for how the noiseless room was pressing in on him. Normally after a day of work in a place that never slowed or quieted, he'd relish the sounds of nothing happening around him, but with his last visit to see Anastasia weeks past, he couldn't stand being in their home and feeling like it was a tomb.
So he started cleaning. Spell after spell, he started downstairs, and had the entire place spotless by the time he tired. Saturday morning, he ate breakfast and got back to it, working his way upstairs. He even opened what had been their father's room, untouched since his death. It nearly choked him with dust, but he was persistent, and at the end of the day Saturday, the entire house he deemed livable. If only he had someone to live in it besides him.
It was way past time that he began clearing things out. Their attic was a treasure trove of furniture, boxes, trunks and knickknacks. He spent Sunday organizing, setting aside a large pile he'd take to Diagon and see about selling. It was of no use to them, and he wouldn't sneer at the money, in any case.
That's when he found it. The small leather box that had his father's initials on it. Curious, he opened it to find several vials, containing a whispy smokelike substance. Memories. Theo had seen his father remove memories before, but never knew what he did with them. It wasn't something you could throw away, at least not in the Nott household.
So he finished up, and took the box with him downstairs. Then again to work. He kept it on the corner of his desk, spelled shut. Purple kept sniffing and playing on it, and was happy to share it's pocket with the shrunk down case.
Work finished, Theo made his way down Diagon Alley, He couldn't go home, not with nothing left to do. He thought maybe dinner, at The Leaky Cauldron, would take his mind off things.
Location: Diagon Alley
Date: February 18, 2000
Status/Warning: Public
Summary: Theo get dinner, to supplement his food for thought.
Completion: In progress
The quiet around the house finally had gotten to Theo. He'd been reading Friday, and was unable to concentrate for how the noiseless room was pressing in on him. Normally after a day of work in a place that never slowed or quieted, he'd relish the sounds of nothing happening around him, but with his last visit to see Anastasia weeks past, he couldn't stand being in their home and feeling like it was a tomb.
So he started cleaning. Spell after spell, he started downstairs, and had the entire place spotless by the time he tired. Saturday morning, he ate breakfast and got back to it, working his way upstairs. He even opened what had been their father's room, untouched since his death. It nearly choked him with dust, but he was persistent, and at the end of the day Saturday, the entire house he deemed livable. If only he had someone to live in it besides him.
It was way past time that he began clearing things out. Their attic was a treasure trove of furniture, boxes, trunks and knickknacks. He spent Sunday organizing, setting aside a large pile he'd take to Diagon and see about selling. It was of no use to them, and he wouldn't sneer at the money, in any case.
That's when he found it. The small leather box that had his father's initials on it. Curious, he opened it to find several vials, containing a whispy smokelike substance. Memories. Theo had seen his father remove memories before, but never knew what he did with them. It wasn't something you could throw away, at least not in the Nott household.
So he finished up, and took the box with him downstairs. Then again to work. He kept it on the corner of his desk, spelled shut. Purple kept sniffing and playing on it, and was happy to share it's pocket with the shrunk down case.
Work finished, Theo made his way down Diagon Alley, He couldn't go home, not with nothing left to do. He thought maybe dinner, at The Leaky Cauldron, would take his mind off things.