The Baron leaves the sorting room (Open RP)

[i-am-harkonnen.livejournal.com]

The Baron was exceptionally relieved to leave the sorting room, which had been getting rather cramped.  Although it had been a somewhat enlightening experience, he now found himself filled with a great deal of questions, such as where to find decent rooms, where that library was, and, how to find the Muggle Studies Department. The hat had left him with a burning need to watch something called "The Maury Povich Show". Not understanding things was troubling, and this needed to be remedied.

He recalled that A did say he'd show him around, and, didn't say when, so, he decided now was as good a time for any, and looked around for one of those weird little house elves. Unsure of just what to do, he barked out, "House elf! Come here, now!", feeling rather silly about this. He made sure to not act surprised when one did actually show up. "Go and tell A that I need to know where things are." It ran off, presumably to do so. They sure are ugly little things, he thought, but, at least they do take orders. And looked easy to kick if they did happen to disobey.

Adjusting his suspensors slightly, he straightened out his robes, and took up a good portion of the hallway while attempting to wait patiently. This wasn't one of his strong points, unless it involved being patient with long and convoluted plans within plans.

::Closed RP for Mello and Near::

[cardarchitect.livejournal.com]

Near hadn't been able to master wandless or wordless casting, but he had been practicing what he could cast intently. Intently enough to be burned out. This was why he was currently curled up in a corner of the room he shared with Mello, sipping a glass of milk and running a toy car in circles on the carpet, making little 'voom voom' noises.

Hey, it was a way to relax.


((ETA: NSFW!))

Why can't we all just get along? ((Open RP, Great Hall))

[serrulata.livejournal.com]

Vegas had been a bad idea. And then, it had been a very good idea. One doesn't live as a human hating demon since before paper was invented and just drop that rather massive part of their persona without a little backlash. Like an acid flashback, you never knew when human suffering would suddenly jump up and be the most wonderful, interesting, amusing part of your day.

It was good to get out of your system, once in a while. Bad if you started to get addicted to it again. worse if you started wholesale killing and torturing people just to experience the thrill again. That's why he stayed away from America. Most countries had excuses for their misery. Over there, they just did it to themselves for lack of anything better to do.

The best cure for the human-hating crazies, though, was to spend time among humans he liked. _{In a controlled environment where he couldn't conceivably kill anyone.} So, after smoking enough pot to supply a small drug cartel and with guitar in hand, he sat himself on the end of a table in the Great Hall, strumming away idly and watching the people walk by.

_{Forgive him, please.}

The way they talk ((Closed, Simon and River Tam))

[biblerewrite.livejournal.com]

Recently, suddenly River had been getting a feeling from Simon. Mostly he'd been keeping to himself, enjoying his free time (And how he deserved it!) doing his own thing. It was good; she was happy for him. It allowed her to do her own thing as well. Which happened to be spending gratuitous time with A when not studying up on magical-type things.

But, out of the blue, she felt the worry. The little stream of consciousness from Simon was a lot of things, but had suddenly been ratcheted up to something a bit louder. Of course, Simon and Worry were practically married, but she did care about her brother enough to make sure the worry wasn't making him do silly things like pace, babble, and forget to eat something. So it was to him that she went, trailed by Branch and Bloom, with Rui Wen clinging to her hair and blinking out at the world.

a present for Oly (closed, house-elf delivery)

[arrogantmage.livejournal.com]

The house-elves were never thrilled about running errands for Lezard Valeth. Besides his general creepiness, there was the obvious fact that he didn't need their help. He could have teleported things here and there, without recourse to elf labor. Instead he insisted on dispatching house-elves to carry anything heavier than a scrap of parchment.

That he had swathed today's cargo in oilskin, thus concealing its contents, might be taken as a mercy. If so, it was unintended as such. Within the oilskin wrappings, a glass container sloshed.

A note was attached to the twine which held the wrappings in place. It read:

For the Lady Olympia Binewski, at her request.

It was unsigned. Surely it needed no signature. For inside was just what Oly had asked of Lezard -- well, by Lezard's interpretation, anyhow: ( lj-cut for squick, though no images )