RP: Patronage & Soup
Date: 10 February, 2005
Characters: Cedric Diggory, Rabastan Lestrange
Location: The Old Church (Rabastan's residence)
Status: Private
Summary: Cedric arrives for his postponed dinner.
Completion: Complete
While he didn't think this dinner entirely formal, Cedric decided to err on the side of caution and dressed in proper robes just as he had for his visit to the Minister. While he didn't wear them normally, he'd grown up with them and had no trouble donning them on occasion -- even liked to. In fact, now that it looked as if he'd be spending more time at the museum in an official capacity, he planned to have another set made, perhaps something in brown or green, rather than just blue and black. (His mother, he thought, would approve; it was rare to find her in anything but robes.)
And speaking of his mother, he patted his left breast where he'd stashed the letter she'd sent for him to give to Rabastan. He also had a small bag of honey-sweet pastries that he'd purchased in Exeter as a dinner gift. He arrived precisely at 6:30. While he had something of a habit of running on Indian Time, he was capable of getting somewhere punctually when it mattered, and he wasn't sure yet how Lestrange would take to Indian manners, especially not on the rez and in someone not obviously native.
Making his way up the pavement to the lovely old, grey stone Anglican church, he felt the pull and shift of powerful wards, and stopped in front of the wooden double door. A knocker hung near the left middle and he struck it.
Characters: Cedric Diggory, Rabastan Lestrange
Location: The Old Church (Rabastan's residence)
Status: Private
Summary: Cedric arrives for his postponed dinner.
Completion: Complete
While he didn't think this dinner entirely formal, Cedric decided to err on the side of caution and dressed in proper robes just as he had for his visit to the Minister. While he didn't wear them normally, he'd grown up with them and had no trouble donning them on occasion -- even liked to. In fact, now that it looked as if he'd be spending more time at the museum in an official capacity, he planned to have another set made, perhaps something in brown or green, rather than just blue and black. (His mother, he thought, would approve; it was rare to find her in anything but robes.)
And speaking of his mother, he patted his left breast where he'd stashed the letter she'd sent for him to give to Rabastan. He also had a small bag of honey-sweet pastries that he'd purchased in Exeter as a dinner gift. He arrived precisely at 6:30. While he had something of a habit of running on Indian Time, he was capable of getting somewhere punctually when it mattered, and he wasn't sure yet how Lestrange would take to Indian manners, especially not on the rez and in someone not obviously native.
Making his way up the pavement to the lovely old, grey stone Anglican church, he felt the pull and shift of powerful wards, and stopped in front of the wooden double door. A knocker hung near the left middle and he struck it.