Multi-Sock and Open RP: The Gang's All Here! ... Minus One

[heymrcrowley.livejournal.com]

((Backdated to the day before the annullments. This is the conclusion of this plot which you may or may not remember. I'm officially back now, yay!))

Nearly a full month after they'd left Hogwarts, the weary refugees (seven in all, counting the wolf and the wolf-boy) clambored up the road from Hogsmeade, exhausted but grateful to be back. How the rescue plane had finally found them, no one was quite sure -- whether Crowley's powers had finally done some good besides the free housing, or whether Fraser's signal fire had actually paid off, or if it was just a total coincidence -- but no one was exactly going to question. Some of them had actually enjoyed their little tropical paradise, but not a one of them wasn't happy to be rid of it.

After all, what was life without soap operas, fancy cigarettes, Jell-O, tea packets, curling, steak, donuts, and the Ritz? (And just go ahead and guess which of those belonged to whom.)

They were all looking toned and tanned after their long ordeal, with two notable exceptions: Crowley was as pale as ever and looked, in fact, entirely unchanged, while Francis was sporting both a shiner and a sunburn that made his pink face clash distressingly with his mop of red hair. The both of them were wearing black and were neatly-shaven; the other three were scruffy and unkempt. The dogs (well, dog, or rather half-wolf, and Robb) were shedding and panting with the heat as they loped along.

"Thank God," someone groaned as the castle loomed into sight, and everyone murmured their own version of agreement. Finally, after all this time, it seemed like it was finally over.

Little did they know that one more Tragedy was yet to strike.

The moment they passed through the gate there was a 'whoosh' and then a little pop!, and suddenly there were only six. An empty space had opened up next to Francis. At his feet sat a single kernel of popcorn, pale yellow and smelling faintly of butter. The group all stopped and stared in horror. There was a crowded pause.

"Oh, dear," Fraser murmured.

More silence.

"I, ah..." Mohinder folded his hands and closed his eyes. "He will be missed."

"Oh, for Heaven's sake, it's not as though he were dead," Francis snapped, rolling his eyes. "Come on. I want to take a shower. My fleas have fleas." The others looked at him expectantly. He took a step back. "What?"

Fraser, Cox, Mohinder and Jim all somehow exchanged a four-way look. "Do you want to...?" Jim asked uncertainly. "I mean, uh, you guys were kinda close." Despite the fact that Francis and Crowley had shacked up together almost immediately, they all knew this wasn't particularly true, but it still seemed like the appropriate question to ask. Francis gave Jim a long, sardonic look, then turned and headed up the hill for the main entrance. Jim let out a low whistle and shrugged. "Guess not." He picked Crowley up and held him out. "Anyone?"

"I'll take him," Fraser volunteered, like they all knew he would. Jim handed the ex-demon over, but Cox intercepted.

"Nah, don't worry about it. I gotta swing by the Popcorn Room on my way back to the Wing, anyway."

Mohinder blinked. "You're... going back to work? Right now?"

Cox snorted and grinned. "Well, other than catching up on La Lohan and the VMAs, there's not exactly a whole lot else to do in this dump. I'll see you fellas around." Tossing Crowley back and forth like a juggling ball, Cox hefted his bag over his shoulder and followed Francis up towards the castle. Or, rather, absolutely did not follow him, but just happened to walk in the same direction.

After a moment of hesitation, the others moved along after him. After all, what else were they going to do?

"Do you think we should have a-- a funeral of some sorts?" Fraser asked uncertainly. "I'm not sure of the protocol in this situation."

"I'm not sure either," Mohinder admitted, looking around. "But in the meantime, do you know what all these tents are for?"

"Huh," said Jim.

((Okay, so as you've probably figured out now, Crowley has sadly gone the way of the popcorn. But check his journal to see the first part of the island adventure! As for right now, all of my characters minus Geoffrey -- Dr. Cox, Francis, Fraser, Mohinder, Jim, and Robb (and Diefenbaker!) -- are currently around the front lawn/entrance area and are free for RP in this post. Have at them!))

Comments

[carlaespinosa.livejournal.com]

How had she known?

No, seriously, did she have some kind of seventh-sense (the sixth, of course, being her womanly intuition) that told her when Cox was in range? Or maybe it really just was that sixth sense telling her that she and Stephen should walk back to the castle right at that moment.

They'd been out looking for plants to stock up the potions lab, and now they were walking slowly across the lawn in light conversation, smiling and laughing, Carla wearing rolled up jeans and a t-shirt that may or may not have belonged to Stephen (http://www.instantattitudes.com/shirts/t020.html), the picnic basket they had their plants in bumping between them.

Any smiles, though, faded when Carla caught sight of a familiar shock of red hair. "Él debe tener el par más grande del mundo de bolas," she hissed in disbelief, halfway torn between tackling the man to the ground and not letting him up until she was quite finished kissing him and kicking him in the shin.

Seriously. He'd been gone for a month. No word. No letters or owls or whatever the hell passed for communication around here. Nothing. Just leaving her to worry and wonder and assume the worst. He had to have shacked up with Jordan again. No other explanation. And now she'd kicked his sorry ass to the curb again and he was going to come crawling back, telling her that 'this time it's different!'"

Like hell.

A glower on her face that could rival Medusa's glare, Carla stalked up to Cox, trusting Stephen to follow.

"Where the hell have you been?"

Not that, you know, she cared.

[estebanmd.livejournal.com]

Fluent in a number of Spanish dialects, from pure Castilian to the various flavors spoken in South America, Stephen had not taken long to acclimate to Carla's particular parlance, and knew exactly what she was saying -- not that there was any great doubt. Their platonic marriage had occasioned a great many companionable confidences. Stephen could have guessed Carla's reaction to the sudden reappearance of Cox without even having been present.

Naturally, the combination of fellow feeling for Carla and his perennial friendly animosity toward Cox easily determined Stephen's course of conduct here. Catching up with her readily, Stephen took her arm in a way that to Carla should communicate solidarity, and to those not privy to the platonic nature of their union might well appear a more tender sort of solicitude. "Indeed, Perry, where on God's earth have you been?" he echoed. "Sure we should have wished you to be present for our happiest of occasions, if owls or elves could find a trace of you."

[coxinsox.livejournal.com]

Oh-hooooo boy. Normally, he liked to see Carla. Sometimes even loved to see Carla, a lot on occasion. But for the love of all that was pure in this world (football), this was so not the right time. He was mind-numbingly exhausted, had just spent a month with a couple of the most annoying people on the planet, and to top it all off he was going right back to work. The fact that that had been his own choice had absolutely nothing to do with this.

The point was, he was not in the mood to be confronted by Little Miss Nosy, especially not with the Doc in tow, and especially not looking as indignant as she did. He bristled angrily, his retort cut short by Stephen's addition. Cox raised a brow as Stephen took Carla's arm.

Happiest of occasions?

His brow creased. "Well, first of all, I've been trapped on an island for the last month with the Goonies back there." He jerked a thumb back towards the little group. "Thanks for the concern. Second of all, what in the hell is going on here?"

[carlaespinosa.livejournal.com]

Ah. As Stephen took her arm Carla shot him a quick look, then one corner of her mouth curved up in understanding. Right.

Because if anyone deserved to be messed with, it was Perry Cox, he of the ex-wife shacking up with (which Carla had convinced herself was total fact) and the no calling for a freaking month.

"That is what you're coming up with?" she asked, eyebrows raised incredulously. "That's the story you're going to stick with, there? Trapped on a deserted island? Was there a three day tour involved? Tell me, Skipper," yeah, okay, maybe she was just a tad bit unreasonably mad, "did you get a chance to make the coconut phone? Because it sure would have been nice to get some kind of word."

Seriously? That was quite possibly the worst excuse ever.

Her mouth tightened in annoyance and Carla rested her hand lightly on Stephen's. "Oh. Right. I forgot you weren't here." That wasn't going to get dropped anytime soon. She looked up at Stephen. "Why don't you go ahead and tell him, babe?"

As if it was any of Cox's concern what she did while he was off doing whomever whatever he'd been doing for a month.

[estebanmd.livejournal.com]

Stephen, who had endured various maroonings and shipwrecks, would very much have liked to hear about the flora and fauna on the island. The veracity of Cox's story he questioned not at all. However, he had a job to do here. With a sort of modest understated smile (inwardly immensely amused by the notion anyone should call him 'babe'), he said to Cox, "Why, you missed our wedding. Allow me to say again how deeply I regretted your inability to attend, when it is to you I owe my introduction to a woman so rare as this. To combine competence with beauty is no mean accomplishment. Carla had so desired your presence --" Lord, that at least was no lie -- "but of course we neither of us would begrudge your happiness."

And, outrageously, Stephen had the nerve to cast a significant look in the direction of Francis Abernathy, not far off.

"Like calls to like, it is said." Redheads? Totally gay guys? Who knew what Stephen might mean?

[c-macaulay.livejournal.com]

Believe it or not, Camilla had actually discovered within her heart a fondness for birdwatching. Francis's ridiculously fancy binoculars hanging around her neck, she'd been out wandering the grounds, still trying to quash the habit of looking around for cattle-prod-bearing house-elves to dodge.

When she caught sight of her friend, the red hair got her attention first, and with a glad "Khairei!" she rushed toward him -- only to stop in her tracks once close enough to actually take in his present state.

"Darling, what happened to your face?"

[fabernathy.livejournal.com]

Francis brightened when he spotted his dearest friend, and he was about to embrace her -- gingerly, of course, because he saw his binoculars around her neck and he hardly wanted to ruin them -- when she stopped. It had been long enough that he'd almost (almost) managed to forget the mess he'd been made of, and he gave her a momentarily blank look before realization dawned and he groaned aloud.

"Darling, I cannot even begin to tell you what's happened to me," he declared. "Suffice to say that it was terrible. And that--" He snuck a furtive glare over at Cox, who was now caught up with Carla and Stephen, and moved closer to Camilla, scowling. "That animal cold-cocked me. Can you believe it? As if we were boxing."

[c-macaulay.livejournal.com]

"No," Camilla breathed, appalled. "Was he drunk or what? Honestly I'm surprised you would socialise with him, or any of them really," this last while looking askance at the spectacle that was Robb Stark. "Did the Hat make you do it? Oh, God, you're not married to them, are you?"

[fabernathy.livejournal.com]

"Oh, God, no," Francis replied, equally horrified, his jaw dropping open. The very idea of being married... again. Especially to any of those people. Crowley might not have been so bad, if he weren't dead or popcorned or whatever he was, but the rest? Francis wanted nothing to do with them.

"And I barely socialized with them," he added hurriedly, just to make that point clear. "The group was far beneath any normal standards. That gorilla of a man sucker-punched me." He scowled and patted his pockets. "Do you have a cigarette? I smoked my last on the tarmac."

Without actually waiting for the answer, he held his hand out and continued. "Anyway, all I did was ask him about the jellyfish that tried to tear my leg off. Honestly. You'd think he wasn't even a doctor. Isn't that supposed to be his job?"

[c-macaulay.livejournal.com]

"Oh thank God." She said it under her breath, though Francis probably could have heard it. "I was wondering what on earth we could serve a ... a wolf-boy for Sunday dinner. The menu would begin and end with steak tartare." She rummaged for a Lucky Strike and placed it in Francis's open palm without missing a beat, intoning a quick Incendio and holding up her wand so he could light the cigarette from the flicker of flame at the wand's tip. "You don't suppose he had to punch you to cover up not knowing anything about jellyfish, do you?" she mused.

[beingironical.livejournal.com]

Ray is out, investigating. Investigating what? He does not know. But in the past couple weeks, he's been attacked by midgets (http://community.livejournal.com/hogwarts_hocus/1436442.html?thread=72993818#t72993818), married to and smoochedattacked by Turnbull (http://community.livejournal.com/hogwarts_hocus/1436442.html?thread=73186842#t73186842), and hugged (http://community.livejournal.com/hogwarts_hocus/1448301.html?thread=73789293#t73789293) by a strange (albeit very attractive) redhead. While all this is going down, his partner is apparently off playing Blue Lagoon. He's at it alone. Doesn't even get a freaking Wolf to go around and sniff things.

A kid also barfed on his shoes, but he's glad Fraser wasn't here for that. There probably would have been some licking going on in the vicinity of the upchuck, and Ray does not need to deal with that on top of everything else.

Ray's reached a conclusion. The hugging thing cinched it. He's on an undercover mission...and no one bothered to tell him about it. Sort of like what happened to Fraser (http://www.trinityslash.com/trans/ep141.html), only much suckier, because it's happening to him.

And speaking of Fraser, it looks like he's coming Ray's way. Cool. Maybe they can go grab some Chinese...

Wait a tick. It's Fraser! Thank Motherfreaking God! Ray's finally got some back-up! Hoofing it out of the castle entryway, Ray's on Fraser in about 2.5 seconds, hugging the crap outta the stupid Mountie. In a very stylish and manly way, of course. Pulling back, and grabbing Fraser by the shoulders, Ray launches into a tirade that his partner absolutely has coming.

"Where the hell have you been? I got covered in butter! No one briefed me on the assignment, kids are barfing on my shoes, and strange people are hugging me. People I don't even know."

[themountie.livejournal.com]

Fraser hardly even looked like himself; he was out of uniform, dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt, his face tanned and unshaven. If not for the Hat in his hands, he might have been his own cousin or some such. But Ray was Ray, abruptly (as always) real and solidly Ray, and the delight that lit up Fraser's eyes was as genuine and recognizable a fingerprint.

He hadn't even known Ray was here. In the confusion following his accident (http://community.livejournal.com/hogwarts_hocus/1407882.html), he'd simply heard that Ray was in Chicago. It had only seemed natural to assume that Ray was to stay there while Fraser carried out his mission, whatever that might be, here. Certainly, he hadn't expected (although he had hoped) to see his partner upon his return, which made this an extremely happy surprise.

Fraser had never been very much the hugging type -- the Frasers, in general, were not a hugging family -- but he'd been long since accustomed (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aRLCKDn_7Hs) to Ray's particular brand of physical affection and he accepted the hug gratefully, if a little awkwardly, giving Ray a clunky pat on the back before pulling away.

Ray was saying something, but Fraser was still too shocked and delighted to pay much attention, and he didn't understand all the words anyway. "Hi, Ray," he beamed.

[beingironical.livejournal.com]

"Hi, Fraser," Rays says, grinning right back, and kind of sort of forgetting what he's going on about in the first place.

Oh, right. SCOTTISH CASTLE. "I was attacked by midgets! Are we investigating midgets? Circus midgets? They've got it coming, but you have to tell me these things! And who thought that being married to Turnbull would make a good cover? They were wrong! They were so very wrong that no one in the history of being wrong has ever been as wrong as they are at this moment."

[themountie.livejournal.com]

Well, that was rather a lot to process. Fraser was as a rule quite good at processing, helped by a quick mind and a photographic memory, but... no, not a whit of this made any sense to him. He raised a brow. "I'm sorry, Ray, but I'm having a little trouble following you. Do you mean to say that you've been put on an investigation regarding Constable Turnbull and a gang of circus midgets?"

He had a fairly good excuse, he thought, for not being up to date on the situation. He realized that he should fill Ray in, just in case he wasn't aware. "I haven't exactly been fully briefed. I had a bit of a..." He waved a hand vaguely at his own head. "Well, anyway, I don't remember a great deal, and then I was on this island for the past few weeks... I suppose I'm a little behind the loop, so to speak."

[beingironical.livejournal.com]

"It could be midgets. It could be butter. A butter, midget thing!" He throws his hands up in the air. "I don't know, Fraser! All I know is, one minute I'm in Chicago, the next I'm here, buttered and cattle prodded. And then married to Turnbull by a hat! A pointy, talking hat! I figure it's a cover. I dunno, maybe it's just some kind of crazy revenge plot." Ray looks from side to side, then leans in and whispers, "I think it might be a robot. The hat. It might be a robot hat. Have we done anything to piss off any hat companies? Robot companies? Either one works."

Ray sighs and hunches his shoulders. "Yeah, yeah. I heard about the island. I'm being electro-shocked, and you're off in the tropics. Not fair, Fraser."

[woocha.livejournal.com]

IT'S DIGGING TIME!

Having just gotten sorted, Wishbone was taking full advantage of the expansive Hogwarts grounds....to dig some holes.

So his paws were dirty and he was having a ball.

As he popped up to find another place that needed a hole, he got a whiff of another dog nearby, and there he was!

Wishbone ran up toward Diefenbaker.

[themountie.livejournal.com]

Hey, Dief was all up on digging holes. And after a month of near-isolation with only a half-wolf, that big noisy human, and Ben (who was kind of his own category), he was all up on meeting other dogs, too.

He stepped forward, circling to the side a bit, and sniffed at Wishbone, trying to get a sense of him. He wasn't exactly intimidated -- he could take the little guy in a fight any day! But it was good to know what he was dealing with.

After a few moments, he decided he was satisfied. Sitting back on his haunches, he let out a welcoming bark. Because, you know, obviously Hogwarts was his place.

[woocha.livejournal.com]

Oh, boy! He's friendly! Wishbone barked back, and ran in a circle.

I'm Wishbone! What's your name?.

[themountie.livejournal.com]

Oh, good, the new dog really was friendly. At least, he seemed friendly -- Dief was deaf and couldn't actually hear what he was saying, but he had a pretty good sense of these things.

He introduced himself with another bark and indicated that it was nice to meet Wishbone. Ben and Ray seemed to be busy with what looked like very loud talking, so he figured he was free to hang out for a bit. He picked up a bone he'd been toying with and nosed it towards Wishbone.

[woocha.livejournal.com]

Not that Wishbone noticed that Dief was death.

He took one end of the bone in his mouth, and looked at Dief, poised to run the minute Dief tried to get the bone.

Time to play catch me if you can.

[runaway-stark.livejournal.com]

Arya had wondered where Robb had wandered off to. He was too distinctive to miss, and she hadn't seen his name on the popcorn plaque, so she had settled for hoping that he was okay and wandering around somewhere. It was a big place, after all.

So upon seeing him tagging along with the group returning to school, she ran back into the castle and reemerged a few minutes later, bearing beef jerky. It seemed as good a welcome back gift as anything, what with Grey Wind's head being sewed onto her brother's body. She held it out to him with a timid smile. "Where have you been?"

[awoooo.livejournal.com]

Robb was in a tricky spot. On the island he'd been able to let the wolf side take over, for the most part. He hadn't actually had much of a choice -- the others didn't really want to interact with him as a person. And that had been unfortunate, but in a way it hadn't been so bad. He hadn't had to think very much, and he got a lot of fresh air.

Now that he was back, he realized he'd have to change back. People expected things of him, here; he had to behave properly, at least as much as he could, for his family's sake. For the sake of the Stark name. But it was hard to wrench himself out of the habits he'd developed on the island, and hard to make himself think like a human again when he was only half of one to begin with.

When Arya approached, he was standing on the lawn at a loss, wondering just where it was he should be going. He wasn't sure he was up to the challenge of navigating the castle alone, and the men he'd spent most of his time with were both engaged. He would do it if he had to, of course. He was just... working up to it.

But Arya's arrival was a blessing. His eyes lit up and he let out a happy bark when he spotted her, loping to meet her halfway. The scent of the jerky was enticing; he had to struggle not to simply gobble it down right there. He made himself reach out with his hand and take it from hers, inclining his head gratefully. But as for answering her question... He whined softly, looking towards the gate.

[runaway-stark.livejournal.com]

"Oh." Not that it was a specific answer, but Robb managed to make it clear that he hadn't been around the school. Yes, that explained it. "You're looking good." As good as he could look.

[awoooo.livejournal.com]

Robb suspected that wasn't really true, but he was grateful anyway. He gave what he hoped was an appreciative-sounding noise and nibbled on the jerky. Gods, but that did taste good. He whined again and moved a little closer, holding a hand out to Arya reaching out to touch her shoulder.

[runaway-stark.livejournal.com]

Arya smiled a little. She'd been doing it enough lately that it wasn't as strange-feeling as it had once been to do so. She held still and let him touch her, and reached out to--she wasn't sure, scratch behind his ears? Dogs and wolves seemed to like it. Maybe Robb would, too.