Open RP: Library Fort

[themountie.livejournal.com]

Time moved... strangely, at Hogwarts, or at least it did for Constable Fraser. Things seemed to blur together a lot more here than they did in Chicago, or even out in the Yukon; which was how it got to be the middle of May before he realized that 1) he'd somehow missed the anniversary of his former partner's disappearance and 2) he'd missed said former partner's birthday for the first time ever.

These two facts were a little distressing, and had made him a little melancholy, but he decided to be pro-active about it. It had been just over two years since he'd last seen Ray the Former, but that hadn't stopped him from making presents for the last two birthdays, and it certainly wasn't going to stop him now!

The library, apparently, wasn't quite as safe a hiding place from the new Ray as he'd once thought, but it was safer than either their room or the Gryffindor Common Room, and he figured if he angled himself just so... A-hah. Positioning himself behind a veritable fort of books and old Quibblers, sitting just so he could see the library door, he set himself down and began to toy with what looked like string and beads and pieces of wood.

He wasn't exactly hidden; he was trying to avoid Ray for the moment, but he probably would have welcomed any other company.

Comments

[busty-robin.livejournal.com]

((Aaaand the hiatus is ovah! *caclkes with glee!*))

A lifetime ago, the sight of Stephanie Brown in a library -of her own free will, no less- might have been the signal of hell freezing over.

But a lifetime ago, Steph didn't have magic powers and what was apparently a "Natural talent for transfiguration" (http://community.livejournal.com/hogwarts_hocus/1274720.html?thread=65035360#t65035360). So she found herself in the nerd-zone, going over a spell designed to turn a vegetable into a fruit, or vice versa. The only problem was that Steph had seen fit to bring a tomato to practice on, and couldn't remember which food group they belonged to. They had seeds on the inside, but she distinctly recalled a talking tomato being the star of those lame ‘Veggie Tales’ flicks.

Luckily, there was a Fraser in the room! He seemed like the guy to ask about this kind of thing. Steph walked over, and plopped her tomato on top of the stack of books. "Hi Constable! Is a tomato a fruit, or a vegetable?"

[themountie.livejournal.com]

((Welcome back!))

Fraser paused in mid-fiddling-with-wood and looked up, eyes centering on the bright red tomato that had mounted an assault on his book fort. Huh. He raised his gaze higher and smiled at Stephanie, whose presence made infinitely more sense. "A fruit. Were you thinking of growing a vegetable garden? They're not very well-suited to this climate, I'm afraid."

[busty-robin.livejournal.com]

Steph picked up said fortress-assaulting-tomato. "That's what I thought. But then why is it always grouped with vegetables? I don't know about you, but I'm sensing a worldwide conspiracy. I bet the Heinz corporation is involved. People feel better about eating ketchup if they think it's a veggie." She was mostly joking.

"Oh, no. I'm not much of a gardener. I once over watered a cactus. It's a transfiguration thing." But she had been studying for halves of hours, and Fraser was much better company than a not-vegatable. She plopped down accross from Fraser, and saved him the trouble of pushing aside the middle row of books. Steph was polite like that. "What's with the fortress o' textbooks?"

[themountie.livejournal.com]

That would probably have worked better if it wasn't Fraser, who generally couldn't tell a joke from a hole in the wall and who, at times, seemed to have a broken sarcasm-meter. He frowned thoughtfully. "I don't think the Heinz Corporation has anything to do with it -- the debate began long before the advent of catsup. Actually, I think it had to do with a debate in your Congress about whether taxes could be levied on tomatoes as a vegetable or not. And, well, once the American government made a decision..." He gave a soft, wry little snort and went back to his beads, stringing a pair onto a strip of leather.

At her question, he looked a little embarrassed, his ears turning a bit red. "I'm..." Not hiding. Hiding was certainly not the right word. "...I'm, uh, lying low. For the moment. So, transfiguration, you say? What is it you're trying to transfigure the tomato into, if you don't mind my asking?" A very smooth return to the topic, he thought.

[busty-robin.livejournal.com]

"Oh, they were planning this way before inventing ketchup. Not coincidentally, the husband of the Heinz heiress ran for president a few years ago." Steph nodded sagely. "Government involvement at the highest levels. You can see how far the conspiracy goes."

"Why? Making someone a surprise?" Oh, topic changes. Steph was familiar with the concept, and decided to indulge the poor Mountie. "A vegetable. Eggplant, to be precise." She paused. "Erm- eggplants are vegetables, right? There's no eggplant conspiracy I should know about?"

[themountie.livejournal.com]

"Did she really?" Fraser perked up with interest. He'd taken it in stride that his own version of the world seemed to be a few years behind this one. Why not, when his father was a ghost, one of his best friends had been dead for eighteen years, and the place was crawling with elves? "I wasn't aware of that. You said 'ran', though -- I assume he didn't win?" His lips quirked. "I suppose the conspiracy was put to a stop at that point."

Fraser shrugged and picked moodily at the leather strip, but when she went on he sighed gratefully-- and then winced. "Well, um, actually, technically speaking..."

[busty-robin.livejournal.com]

Steph giggled. "We can only hope."

"Seriously? But on all of the cutesy food pyramid illustrations..." She sighed and shook her head. "The public school system failed me miserably. Okay, Radish. I'll change it into a Radish."

[themountie.livejournal.com]

"On the other hand," he pointed out, "most people still do consider tomatoes to be a vegetable." His lips thinned, his expression suddenly weary. "Some people," he added in a slightly aggrieved tone, "even consider ketchup to be a vegetable." Three guesses who he was talking about there. "So it seems that the tide of change has not swept over this particular rock."

At that, he gave her a nod. "You should be safe there. A radish is a root vegetable. Similar to a turnip, and not very much to a tomato."

[busty-robin.livejournal.com]

"Well, I mean, if the government classifies them as a vegetable, and ketchup is made from them..." Steph trailed off. She had rationalized many a late-night cheeseburger by virtue of ketchup. "I'm just sayin'. Hypothetically."

"Great!" She pulled out her wand and read the spell, trying not to stumble over the sort-of Latin. She'd been practicing her sort-of Latin. To Steph's surprise, the spell...worked exactly like it was supposed to. She let out a happy shriek. "It worked! Nothing blew up or turned into poultry!"

[themountie.livejournal.com]

Fraser squinted at her. "That's somewhat akin, Stephanie, to saying that a truck is organic because it's made mostly from metal and mineral oils. Which... yes, you could make that argument, but I'm not sure that the logic entirely follows. Still..." He shrugged, toying with one of the pieces of wood, bending it carefully. "As long as no one dies of scurvy."

Letting the wood go, he sat back to watch her perform the spell, genuinely impressed when it worked. "Fine work, Stephanie," he told her seriously, a smile brightening his face. "That looks like an excellent radish."

[busty-robin.livejournal.com]

"Scurvy is always unpleasant. And if you have to have that extra cheeseburger to keep it at bay, then so be it." Or that extra helping of fries. At three a.m.

"Thanks!" Steph picked up the radish, admiring her handiwork. "I'm actually kind of good at this stuff. I've never been..." instead of finishing the sentence, she smiled and took a bite of the radish.

Problem. Radishes were disgusting. She grimaced, and swallowed. "Ew. Vegetables."

[themountie.livejournal.com]

Mmm, three AM fries. Even Fraser knew the addictive properties of those. (Actually, he secretly loved greasy diner food -- shh, don't tell.) "Only if it won't be too much of a sacrifice, of course," he agreed dryly.

He watched her eat the radish curiously, unable to surpress a lopsided smirk at her reaction. "I've heard they're an acquired taste. Of course, radishes aren't common to the Yukon, so I've never acquired them myself... Maybe you should have transfigured it into a bottle of ketchup, Stephanie?" Meanwhile, now he was set to wondering if he could do that. He'd never tried this particular transfiguration before, but it didn't seem like it could be that difficult... He tipped his head to the side, studying the bitten radish critically. "Do you mind if I...?"

[so-strong-sad.livejournal.com]

If anyone knew the sound of arts being crafted, it was Strong Sad. Curious, he peered behind the stack of books and magazines to find Fraser and his items.

"I didn't know this library held craft jams! Can I join in?" he asked in what was probably one of the most delighted voices he had. Unfortunately, it pretty much sounded like his usual whiny draggy tone.

[themountie.livejournal.com]

Fraser gave the newcomer a brief, blank look, but that lasted about two seconds before his natural sense of politeness kicked in. He wasn't sure what the young man actually was, but that hardly mattered at a place like Hogwarts. "As far as I know it doesn't, actually, but.." He looked down at the spread before him and hesitated. "Well, I suppose I don't really need all of these." He'd brought extra supplies with him, after all... And the -- well, whatever it was, it seemed very pleased. He thought.

Summoning up a smile, he pushed some of the leather strips and beads over towards Strong Sad. "By all means, please do join me. My name is Constable Benton Fraser, of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. Who might you be?"

[so-strong-sad.livejournal.com]

Strong Sad lowered himself into a chair across from Fraser and eagerly gathered the beads and strips he had been offered. "Oh, I'm Strong Sad, of...um...." Now he felt like he needed some sort of militaryish affiliation, too. Oh, wait a moment! There was something. "Of the Homestarmy (http://www.hrwiki.org/index.php/Homestarmy)." He started tying an extravagant sort of knot at the end of one of the strips.

[themountie.livejournal.com]

Fraser raised his eyebrows. "I'm not-- not entirely familiar wiht that organization, I'm afraid." Homestarmy? It sounded positively made-up, but on the other hand so did a giant walking... hippopotamus...?

He rallied himself. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Sad." The knot, now, that was curious; Fraser found himself watching, trying to see if he could identify it. His hands continued to work, tying his own strings together into an increasingly elaborate net.

[so-strong-sad.livejournal.com]

"Oh, the Homestarmy is a force to be reckoned with. Our main duties are to ensure that no one works on Labor Day, but we held our own in the Battle of Strongbadia, with only the sacrifice of Third-Style Private Frank Bennedetto (http://www.hrwiki.org/index.php/Frank_Bennedetto)." Strong Sad paused. "May he pop in peace. As our leader says, our membership is 'limited to the few who are sick and tired of playing second-fiddle to a two-bit wrestle man' - that's my brother, Strong Bad - 'and his yellow dog' - that's The Cheat, although he's not a dog, so I don't really know why Homestar said he's one."

Strong Sad examined Fraser for a moment. "We wear uniforms, too, but, well...our budget is pretty much nonexistent, so they don't look as snazzy as yours." His eyes dropped down to Fraser's hands. "Oh, that's some cool knot tying you're doing. What are you making?" Another brief pause, and then, "Oh, also, you can just call me Strong Sad. Should I call you Constable?"

[themountie.livejournal.com]

Genuinely quite interested, he listened to Strong Sad's explanation. So far he'd catalogued about four or five different worlds that were clearly and strikingly different from his own, not counting Hogwarts itself -- here, apparently, was another, as different from the others as night and day. He understood about a third of what Strong Sad was actually saying, but still! It was all very interesting!

Plus, Strong Sad had complimented The Uniform, which always earned a gold star in Fraser's book. "Ah, thank you," he said with obvious pride, leaving his work to straighten his collar and lanyard slightly. Snazzy. He liked it. At Strong Sad's questions he looked down at his project, then back up at the--- whatever he was. "As you like. Most people call me Fraser, admittedly. And this--" he held up the net-- "will be a dreamcatcher, eventually. It... tangles up all your bad dreams before they can get to you."

[so-strong-sad.livejournal.com]

"Oh, a dreamcatcher!" Strong Sad nodded knowingly. He was quite familiar with all sorts and forms of arts and crafts, although admittedly most of what he made often found its way into Strong Bad's, Strong Mad's, and/or The Cheat's clutches, and then the item often...was no more. "Do you have a lot of bad dreams you want to catch?" He started stringing some beads onto the lanyard, where they began to pile up behind the fancy knot he had tied.

[themountie.livejournal.com]

Fraser's mouth twitched ruefully, his eyes lowering to the half-made dreamcatcher in his hands. "Sometimes, yes." Usually on the nights his back hurt -- the bullet in it never let him forget for too long that it was there, and on those nights he dreamed about dying in the snow. Sometimes his leg hurt, too, where Geiger had stabbed him, and that usually made him dream about his father, but those dreams were much easier to deal with when he could actually go and talk to the man.

"It's not for me, though," he murmured, twisting two strands together. "It's for a... a friend of mine." Honestly, who this was for, he had no idea. He'd had some vague idea about sending it back to Chicago, but... Well. Flashing another small, slightly sad smile, he looked up and nodded towards Strong Sad's string of beads. "What are you making?"

[so-strong-sad.livejournal.com]

"Oh. Well, if your friend has bad dreams, maybe it's because his brothers are sitting by his bedside at night, telling spooooooooooky stories to his subconscious!" Of course, Strong Sad spoke entirely from experience.

He raised up his project to show Fraser. "This is a tai-chi headband. I'm separating the beads by little knots so that they are aligned along the various pressure points of my head. That way, when I wear it, I can have my chi flowing freely. Of course, it doesn't matter how freely flowing your chi is when your brother throws a The Cheat into your stomach in the middle of your poses, but...well, I guess the best you can do is hope The Cheat isn't carrying a tazer. Or a statue of Van Buren."

[themountie.livejournal.com]

"Well... no, I don't think so. He doesn't have any brothers." Fraser had the feeling Strong Sad wasn't actually talking about Vecchio. He wasn't sure he wanted to intrude, though... Maybe that was a normal brother thing? He didn't have any brothers, and he'd only met his sister for the first time a year ago; he really had no idea how normal families worked, especially not normal hippo families.

Moment by moment, Strong Sad was losing him a bit more. He gave him a sort of a wooden look. "Of course," he echoed. "Do-- do you mean Martin Van Buren? The ex-President?"

[so-strong-sad.livejournal.com]

"Oh, sure. Old Kinderhook. There are many busts of him if you know where to look," Strong Sad said easily as he added another bead and then worked another knot into his creation. "eBay is a veritable bust heaven. I once won a bust of the Geico gecko with a last-minute bid of seven dollars and twenty-six cents!"

[whosneverbeen.livejournal.com]

Luna was wandering around the library, having come down here to find something very specific. She'd forgotten what she was looking for as she wandered the stacks, and so she was brought up short by Fraser's improvised fort. One of the topmost issues of _The Quibbler_ caught her eye, and she picked it up.

"Ah, yes, I remember this one," she murmured, flipping through the magazine. "It's the one we did about Elvis... He's alive and well at Hogwarts. I ask you, have you ever seen Professor Dumbledore and Elvis in the same room?"

[themountie.livejournal.com]

One of Fraser's great strengths was his ability to take almost anything at face value (except when it came to things like 'everyday slang' or 'humor,' anyway), so to his credit he didn't so much as blink at the question. "I've never seen either of them in person, to my recollection."

He set his half-formed dreamcatcher down (the progress on that was going much more slowly than he'd initially expected!) and looked up at her. "Ah, Miss Lovegood." He hesitated. "Or... you are Miss Lovegood at the moment and not Mr. Townshend, yes?"