Transmagical Vamp (Closed RP for Simkin/Camilla. No Slash. I think)

[silk-simkin.livejournal.com]

It was an odd day at Hogwarts, and we mean odder than usual. For one thing, it appeared to be raining handkerchiefs. Silk handkerchiefs. Orange silk handkerchiefs to be exact. They floated through the air, lightly draping over most everything, and then slowly dissolving into nothingness. It was most peculiar. As was the way various implements of tea and sweeping started talking in an urbane drawl, as if perpetually amused by everything and everyone. Of course, those who were rude, or generally disliked by certain anthropomorphic personifications would find themselves snubbed, or thwacked, or (if you manhandled a tea-pot in an improper fashion) boiled.


Nothing lasting, or too painful, but it was odd, and ostentatious. For those who paid attention, it was also a sign. Simkin had returned to Hogwarts, and was busily making his presence known. He'd already given the Sorting Hat a suitable colour scheme. He called it Pirates and Pumpkins, dear boy, don't you know?

It was a mixture of oranges and blacks, with white skulls, and jack-o-lantern's decorating it. Simkin thought it looked fabulous. Other tastes may vary, but since Simkin is the only one who matters, he's just going to ignore everyone else's view. Especially anyone who might be tall, dark, and broodsome. Like dear old mucky Joram.

So it was that Simkin had returned, and was walking down the hallway, accompanied by theme music, because it amused him. Currently the theme was of the cock-rock variety. Transvision Vamp, Van Halen, The Darkness, whatever. It was that kind of poppy, big hair, big solos and David-Bowie's-crotch-in-tights kind of music.

You know what we're talking about.

((Camilla))

Comments

[c-macaulay.livejournal.com]

... What on earth? Where was that music coming from, and what was that music anyway?

Camilla, who seldom watched television and who only read fashion magazines when there was no National Geographic in the waiting rooms of doctors' offices, did not make any catwalk association with the music and the man striding down the hallway in the direction opposite to her.

She was frankly baffled. She thought she might be ... you know, hearing things. That weren't there.

"Excuse me," she said politely to the man, a little loudly so as to be heard over the music. "Do you hear anything out of the ordinary?"

[silk-simkin.livejournal.com]

Simkin saw the young lady, and beamed magnanimously at her. He really did like people, they were so intriguing. But hark, something was obviously amiss. She looked confused.

The music dropped slightly, to a volume better suited for conversing.
"Something out of the ordinary? Not at all, my dear Camilla. Everything is simply perfectly fabulous. Why? Did you hear something odd?" His smile dropped to a look of concern for the young lady. If there was something odd going on, Simkin would deal with it. Probably by turning it into a tea-pot. Or setting it on fire.

[c-macaulay.livejournal.com]

"This might sound a little strange," said Camilla, "but I think I hear music. Like you'd hear in the supermarket, but we're obviously not in one. And I don't think they'd play this music in the supermarket anyway."

She was a little taken aback by his knowing her name -- but not too much. Hampden had acclimated her to strangers knowing who she was. The my dear might have been stranger if not followed up by the simply perfectly fabulous, which put it safely in the realm of verbal affectation.

"I'm sorry, I don't recall whether we've met." Vaguely apologetic, because it was possible they had. His voice did sound a little familiar, though she couldn't place it.

[silk-simkin.livejournal.com]

"Oh, the music. Does it bother you, dear lady?" Simkin waved a hand, and suddenly the music changed mid-note into Vivaldi's Autumn suite, and he beamed again. "Is that more to your tastes?"

He had that relaxed, familiar attitude, as he leaned against a wall in what might be considered a provocative manner, and continued smiling. We'd include his thoughts, but we're not exactly sure that Simkin thinks like we do, and thus don't want to get all metaphysical. So we'll assume that what he says and does is part of the thought process.

"Oh, we have, dear lady, let me assure you. but to refresh your memory; I am Simkin." A simple statement, said as if everyone should know it.

[c-macaulay.livejournal.com]

Camilla breathed a little sigh of minor relief. Minor relief, because if she had been hearing music no one else could hear, it didn't mean she was crazy or anything, she'd probably just eaten something unfortunate in the Great Hall and was lucky it didn't turn her into a seven-year-old again.

"Oh, the music didn't bother me, per se. Though that music is much nicer than the other," she admitted. "It's just that it was a little disconcerting to hear music coming out of nowhere. I wasn't sure whether my mind was playing tricks on me. Now I know it was you playing tricks," she added, not accusatory at all, and with a little smile. It was Hogwarts; he must be practicing his magic.

Simkin -- the name wasn't familiar at all. She couldn't place the face, either. She shrugged off the deja vu; they must have had some trivial encounter in the Sorting Room or some such. "It's good to see you, then, Simkin."

[silk-simkin.livejournal.com]

"Tricks? Egad. I would never stoop so low as to indulge in mere deceptions. There are much more interesting things one could do." Like writing one's name with the stars, or changing outfits. Important things. Or rather, entertaining things. Which, in Simkin's view is exactly the same thing.

"You like the music though? I'm glad. Ecstatic even. I always appreciate a lady with fine taste in entertainments. Anyone with fine taste, in fact. Unlike that beastly Darcy fellow. He's a lout, and a bounder and a cad. Good at heart though, I suppose, but that does not excuse one from having manners."

Simkin waves his hands outrageously as he talked, gesturing here and there, and "accidently" attaching the Theme-song spell to Camilla. From here on out, it would replicate and attach itself to people and hopefully the entire school would start being filled with music depending on their moods.

Now that was a spendid thought.

"It's very good to see you as well. I always did appreciate a person who can handle magic as well as you can."

[c-macaulay.livejournal.com]

"I don't think I've met Darcy," said Camilla, who hadn't. "Anyway you're perfectly right. Having a good heart is nice as far as it goes, but that doesn't mean you can just go blundering around whatever way you want."

Meanwhile she had no idea Simkin had just attached a spell to her.

"Magic can be hard to handle," she said quite seriously, also having no idea (1) how this statement could be applied, (2) how this statement could have more than one meaning.

[silk-simkin.livejournal.com]

"My dear girl, you don't know the half of it. But it can be fun as well. It should always be fun, none of this silly dark angry death that the children keep wanting to bring up."

Simkin likes Camilla. She's certainly not a lout, not by anyone's standards. Of course, that's not stopping him from using her as entertainment. Egad, no. That just makes her all the more fun. Louts are so dull after all. They never manage to make things fun for more than a week or two.

"One must always have manners. And health. If you don't have your health, you don't have anything. And the same can be said for manners. Which means manners are health, and health is manners."

[c-macaulay.livejournal.com]

Camilla had to laugh at that strange little syllogism -- no, it wasn't a syllogism, was it? not a proper one. The same principle, though, this playful contortion of logic.

"How do you explain, then, why people with bad manners can be so tiresomely long-lived sometimes?"

[silk-simkin.livejournal.com]

"Explain it? Very simple. Such people are so dull, and boorish that Death itself simply avoids them. I mean, wouldn't you, if you could?"

A very simple explaination for a complicated idea. He's such an odd fellow, this one. But fun to write.

[c-macaulay.livejournal.com]

"So in their case, manners aren't health at all. Quite the opposite. It's their lack of manners that keeps them alive so long," Camilla riposted, smiling.

[silk-simkin.livejournal.com]

"I do believe you have caught me in my web of words, dear girl. For that, I shall award you a prize. What would you like? An elephant? A pretty broach? Perhaps a new outfit? Or maybe some tea. I can do a very good cup of tea, you know"

An Elephant? Where the hell did that come from?

[c-macaulay.livejournal.com]

"I have no idea what I'd do with an elephant," said Camilla, taking this as a joke. "Here? At Hogwarts? Would it even fit?"

[silk-simkin.livejournal.com]

"Well, I'm certain they could find somewhere on the grounds for it. Or it could be a very small elephant. Would you prefer that?"

Camilla has about 10 seconds to decide, otherwise there's going to be a full-grown Elephant (about the size of a large dog) in the hallway.

[c-macaulay.livejournal.com]

"Oh, it would really have to be a small elephant." Camilla said this in all innocence.

[silk-simkin.livejournal.com]

"Done!" He removed a small orange silk handkerchief from his pocket, shook it a few times, and then threw it up into the air. As it touched the ground there was a slight shift in the universe, and an elephant, about the size of a large dog appeared in the hallway, looking very confused (as any being would be, if it'd been a silk handkerchief a moment ago), and trumpetting very, very loudly.

"There you are, dear girl. One miniature elephant, just for you."

[c-macaulay.livejournal.com]

Needless to say, this took Camilla by surprise. While she had been studying Transfiguration on her own, she had no idea that an elephant of such size -- even if it was small comparative to other elephants -- could be transfigured from a handkerchief.

"It's a very nice elephant," she said somewhat helplessly. The elephant stamped its small feet.

[silk-simkin.livejournal.com]

Well, when Magic is involved, anything is possible. Although with the way hogwart's magic works, we advise not actually trying that one at home.

"It's yours. I believe they eat peanuts and things like that, if you were wondering. Shouldn't cause too much trouble, just try not to let it stampede down the hallways. I imagine other students might take offense to that.

[c-macaulay.livejournal.com]

Oh. Oh, dear.

"It really is very kind of you but I'm afraid I can't accept such a gift," Camilla tried. "Honestly I don't think I could stop it if it wanted to stampede," she added.

The elephant reared up, trumpeting. It did seem likely to stampede.

[silk-simkin.livejournal.com]

"Are you certain? Oh, very well." Simkin shrugged and waved another orange handkerchief. The elephant vanished with a loud, angry trumpet.

"Perhaps something else then?"

Interlude

"CRIVENS! Lookit this beastie right 'ere. It be a right bigjob innit?"

"What'll wae do, Rob? Should wez keep it?"

"Aye, lads. I tink we jus' got us some wheels."

[c-macaulay.livejournal.com]

"I think," said Camilla, after a moment's consideration, very seriously, "that I'd just like the handkerchief."

It seemed to be a very special handkerchief.

[silk-simkin.livejournal.com]

"Certainly." He waved the orange silk handkerchief for a moment, and then handed it to her. It was now monogrammed with C.M.

"Is there anything else I can do for you, dear lady?"

[c-macaulay.livejournal.com]

Camilla tucked the handkerchief away into her pocket. She couldn't help but laugh a little, not at Simkin but with him: she was obscurely delighted by his ostentatious gestures, the showmanship that would befit stage magic and yet was indubitably something more solid and real. (That elephant had definitely been real!)

"Yes. Tell me about yourself," she said. "I'm curious now."