hh_mirror | Entries tagged with henry winter

usethepoker.livejournal.com

((Backdated to February 10, just after Stephen's popcorn-letter))

( Hope you have got your things together/Hope you are quite prepared to die/Looks like we're in for nasty weather/One eye is taken for an eye/So don't come 'round tonight/It's bound to take your life/There's a bad moon on the rise )

Current Mood: indescribable
Current Music: Rasputina - Bad Moon Rising

vislor-turlough.livejournal.com

OOC: While the people below have signed up, this is open for anyone to enter the crazy.

So. It's Valentine's Day. Turlough had rounded up a few house elves to do his bidding. Said bidding was to set up tables with name cards, a table with food and drink (which may or may not be hexed, I couldn't decide), and a sign:

We will not be responsible for anyone fed love potions.

Because someone will.

We also will not be responsible for any actions here on in.

Turlough stood in the corner of the Great Hall, drink in hand, smirk on face as he watched people come on (or forced in by cattleprod point, in Soichiro's case.)

( Pairings as followed )

c-macaulay.livejournal.com

Mister Whiskers the hamster had amassed quite a wardrobe.

There was the purple satin cape with the zebra-striped lining. There was the bowtie and cummerbund. There was the little terrycloth headband for exercise time in his hamster wheel.

This wardrobe hung in a doll-sized armoire Camilla had acquired. It sat on the desk of the dorm room that first had belonged to Henry, then had been occupied by Bunny, and was now full of yards upon yards of brightly-colored plastic Habitrail.

On this desk also sat a computer, magically modified to work on Hogwarts grounds, and a similarly modified webcam.

Camilla was excited. Ron was going to come over and help them create Bunny's First Video Diary. Well, not Bunny's, Mister Whiskers'. Ron didn't know that Mister Whiskers had once been a human known as Bunny Corcoran.

h-m-winter.livejournal.com

( Owl to Francis Abernathy, warded to implode for unintended readers )

h-m-winter.livejournal.com

Henry and Camilla had a Mission.

Camilla had given him a habitrail for Christmas, with the intent that they turn Bunny into something small and fluffy (eventually they settled on a hamster) and keeping him in it. Somehow, in Henry’s mind, turning Bunny into something most people would consider cute was crueler than turning him into something hideous. And he wanted to be cruel--he wanted revenge for the Obliviation he’d suffered months ago, the Obliviation that had hurt Camilla as well--it was that, almost more than what had happened to he himself, that fueled his need for vengeance.

Having reasoned that the simplest plans were oftentimes the best, he’d opted to simply ambush Bunny somewhere in Slytherin. Bunny was in his old room, after all--he knew how to get into the common room, and unless Bunny was better with wards than Henry suspected, he could get into the room, too.

He’d also reasoned that a concealment spell might well do more harm than good. He wanted Bunny to see them coming, just as he himself had seen Bunny just prior to his own Obliviation. He wanted Bunny to know something was about to happen to him. So he and Camilla took no especial care, when he led her into the common room--even Slytherin, which had at least token security, saw so many people going in and out who didn’t actually live there that their presence should excite no comment.

Current Mood: predatory

c-macaulay.livejournal.com

Rather a lot of people had come to the Winters' wedding. (Let's pretend, shall we, that Camilla actually sent out thank-you notes to those people who brought gifts? She surely would not have neglected it, lest Nana roll over in her grave; she should not be blamed for the laxity of her mun.) Believe it or not, most of them had been invited because Camilla liked them, or else because she felt obliged to them for one reason or another. As such, most of them qualified to be remembered at holiday time.

The following people were sent poinsettias with accompanying tasteful nonsectarian holiday cards:

Ned and Catelyn Stark
Simkin
John Preston
Jezz Jaelre
Dale Smither (because she was married to Charles, however briefly)
Jadzia Dax (because she’s Henry’s … friend? Fellow researcher? Camilla still isn’t sure.)
Chance Silvey (cf. Dax)
Stephen Maturin
Merlin
Deety Long
Bella Swan
Ron Weasley
Blair Waldorf
Dean Winchester
Stephanie Brown (whose poinsettia was accompanied by soap.)

Then there were people who merited a gift of some greater significance:

( Charles Macaulay )
( Francis Abernathy )
( Richard Papen )
( Selvetarm )
( Shaun and Liz )
( S.A.R.A.H. )
( Susan Sto Helit )
( Willow Rosenberg )
( John Ryder )
( Silas )
( Yoda )

ayameonaplane.livejournal.com

Ayame didn’t seem particularly disturbed by suddenly being in the sorting room. In fact, he filled out the application with remarkable gusto.

( What’s this? An application? Wonderful! )

I have read the hogwarts_hocus faq, and understand it is a crazy, cracktastic sorting community and RPG. Ayame Sohma
I have read the hogwarts_hocus rules and agree to abide by each and every one of them. Ayame Sohma.
I agree to be a good sport and not get my knickers in a bunch. Ayame Sohma.
One day, marmalade will rule the world. Ayame Sohma

((OOC: Just realized I should add this, for those not familiar with his canon - when Ayame is hugged by a female, sick, or subjected to extreme heat or cold, he transforms into a snake. So if your pup's a girl who might be tempted to hug a random, bubbly guy, please, pleasecheck with me before she hugs him - in canon, one arm on either side of the body and torsos touching does it, even if it's not what would technically be called a hug. I'll probably say yes, but I'd still like to be asked.))

jezzthespoon.livejournal.com

Jezz soon located the Slytherin common room, followed by his own room. He sent Keheneshnef out for reconnaissance, then went to do some research and finish up certain interrupted matters from the Sorting Room.

***

( Owl to Eragon, mildly warded )

***

( Owl to Camilla and Henry Winter, warded to crumple into an unreadable mass of paper around the attached items for unintended readers )

***

He saved the biggest for last. He’d considered going out to ask in person – they’d even gone into the same school House, if he’d heard right, which would make it still easier – but the amount of crossing-out he ended up doing made him grateful he’d stuck to writing.

( Owl to Vhaeraun, warded to flare up in imitation darkfire for unintended readers )

Current Mood: anxious

estebanmd.livejournal.com

Stephen had rather wanted to talk with Henry Winter at length, if for no other reason than to cement his hopeful deduction that Henry's recent wedding had well and truly laid to rest the remnants of old animosity concerning the woman who was now Mrs. Winter. Unfortunately, there had simply been no time for conversation. Stephen had brought little Rose Casson to the wedding, which meant he'd been kept busy with such important activities as eating icing with his fingers; and Henry had been kept busy with other matters (the brief abortive dust-up with Bunny had not escaped Stephen's watchful eye, though his primary concern had been to keep Rose away from whatever might happen). Then the bride and groom had gone off on some trip somewhere, or some such thing. Even if they had not, Stephen would not have dreamed of inquiring after either of them. He knew very well what it was to desire absolute peace, absolute and complete absence of any interruption.

As it happened, he did not see Winter again until an odd chance meeting out on the windswept grounds. Stephen was scouting out potential locations for test explosions of anti-clown ordnance. Henry, immaculately dressed in suit and somber black overcoat, appeared to be pushing a very large weird chunk of stone in a wheelbarrow.

jezzthespoon.livejournal.com

((Spoilers for the first two books of the Lady Penitent trilogy, some spoilerish references to War of the Spider Queen. Permission given from all current Realms-muns, namely Yours Truly))

A dark-skinned elf limped into the Sorting Room, his left leg encased in a brace of leather and metal, dragging two overstuffed-looking bags behind him. He came to a stop at the table of applications, released his luggage, flexed his fingers with a wince, then briefly lifted the half-mask from the upper part of his face to daub at the sweat.

Jezz had gone on a frenzy of acquisition before embarking on the last leg of the journey; he wasn’t sure how long he would have to stay, and it was probably a bad idea to raid the student body. There was considerable talk of bribery in his sources, so he had figured in a generous amount for that. Perhaps he’d figured in too much – his arms certainly seemed to think so. They also seemed to think he’d been too leery about expending the emergency scrolls of Tenser’s Floating Disk that Belarbreeza had scribed for him. At least the scrolls should have other uses here.

He seated himself at the table. Once the feeling had returned to his fingers, he took an application and selected a quill as the green asp around his arm unwound and began to investigate the vicinity. “Careful there, Keheneshnef,” he murmured in a tongue normally intelligible only to mage and familiar, and the quill vibrated in his hand. He was not quite as taken aback by the questions as he might have been without prior warning.

( Let me get this straight. )

"I have read the hogwarts_hocus faq, and understand it is a crazy, cracktastic sorting community and RPG. _____JJ______
I have read the hogwarts_hocus rules and agree to abide by each and every one of them. _____JJ_____.
I agree to be a good sport and not get my knickers in a bunch. _____JJ____.
One day, marmalade will rule the world. ______JJ_____"

Jezz retrieved Keheneshnef from the table, stood, turned around and smiled at the room at large. Time to play the diplomat after all.

Current Music: “Mack the Knife”/”Die Moritat von Mackie Messer”

c-macaulay.livejournal.com

( Don't regret our ties / This endless flow / You take these fears / When you say they go / Your touch honey-smooth / Your shining calm / So what if blood's spilt / You're my light you're my balm )

(( OOC: There are two parts to this. One is the wedding bit itself, which will be played out by the principals in its own thread, which Camilla's account has already posted below.

The other is the reception/dinner afterward, and for that, feel free to start your own threads here. As S.A.R.A.H. decided, there isn't any assigned seating. Instead, there will be lots of round tables at which people can choose to seat themselves, eight chairs per table -- think of the more disorganized sort of awards banquet and you'll probably have a good idea. The house elves will bring people whatever kind of meal they prefer, with special instructions to bring Yoda a plate of nice twigs. Rather than one large cake there are tiered single-serving cakes in a variety of flavors, again at S.A.R.A.H.'s brilliant suggestion. [GJ, have we told you lately that we love you?]

Finally, characters who have not been invited can crash the reception. Just think of some reasonable explanation for why they've heard there's a wedding going on -- unless they're Homestar, who just sort of turns up places. ))

Current Mood: excited
Current Music: Peter Murphy, "Idle Flow"

h-m-winter.livejournal.com

( Addressed to Camilla Macaulay and Henry Winter, delivered from an outside owl )

Current Mood: surprised

spiderthatwaits.livejournal.com

((Spoilers for the first book of the Lady Penitent trilogy, and some mild ones for War of the Spider Queen))

( Abyss take me? It already has… but where? )

He glanced around once more and waited. He was well used to that.

h-m-winter.livejournal.com

( To Francis Abernathy )

( To Richard Papen )

( To Charles Macaulay )

( To John Ryder )

( To Stephen Maturin )

( To Chance Silvey )

( To Professor Jadzia Dax )

Current Mood: pleased

ra-tilt-chimera.livejournal.com

( Exceptionally discreet posters, almost as if they're afraid to be noticed, go up around the castle... )

( Here I'm singin' happy birthday, better think about the wish I'll make... )

Current Mood: cheerful
Current Location: Gryffindor
Current Music: Jimmy Buffett "Trip Around the Sun"

stylish-nebulon.livejournal.com

Nebulon had been tipped off. His nemesis had finally deciphered his cryptic hints about The Milk Chocolate, and had gone to Hershey, taking with her two innocent bystanders. Now Nebulon had to stop her from uncovering the many sweet secrets to be found at the chocolate factory, lest she take her Candyland victory way past board game territory and into the real world.

Nebulon never learned to Apparate. He didn't need to learn that. He could travel through space, wibbling and blibbling unconcerned through zero gravity and zero atmosphere. It was just what he did. There were only two things about space he didn't like. First, in space, no one could hear you sing. Second, unless you got near an asteroid or something, there was nothing to tag. No one in space could see the proud blazon of NEB-1. He might go into graffiti withdrawal!

His carefree blibbling abilities kept his re-entry into Earth's atmosphere gentle and light. (A hot meteoric streak across the sky might have had style. Nebulon, much to his dismay, only had the kind of style that no one likes.) He touched down in Hershey long before Dax and her henchmen, and proceeded to scrape together a disguise. A trench coat. A big hat. He couldn't really do anything about his height, so he got a motorised wheelchair in which to blibble along. He tried to disguise his eyestalks as a bobble-antenna headband, by putting on a plain green headband to match it, though the big hat then covered the headband. The finishing touch was a huge false black mustache. It did not have curlicues at the end, as Nebulon did not wish to appear evil!

Thus equipped, many cans of spray paint strapped to his green body under the coat, he began a concerted campaign of Purposeful Lurking. Soon Dax would show up. Nebulon would be ready. He would fend her off, and he would do it with style.

Current Location: Hershey, PA

chance-silvey.livejournal.com

(( Credit to Dean-mun for suggesting the airline. :D ))

Chance is used to research junkets on the cheap, when she goes anywhere at all. Crash at a local junior prof's place if you're going to a conference, or stay in a Motel 6. Drive if you can, fly only if you have to, and fly barebones economy class. This time she's not traveling alone or with her old advisor, though. No, this time Chance is traveling with Jadzia Dax, who's probably used to some choice 24th-century interstellar amenities, and with Henry Winter, who will probably melt like the Wicked Witch of the West the moment he passes the curtain that divides business class from coach. Plus, Henry's offered to augment the funding Chance has already secured.

So, though it grates against her every sensible nerve, Chance has forked out the dough for three first-class tickets from Gatwick airport to La Guardia. There they'll get a connecting flight to Philadelphia, and drive the remaining two hours to Hershey in a rental car. (They'd need a car anyway and Chance just balks at the idea of flying into Harrisburg, which would have put them only a fifteen-minute drive from Hershey. Cost aside, the prospect of riding in a bumpy little turboprop regional jet does not appeal.)

She gets a good deal on an airline she's never heard of before. Oceanic Air. Chance knows this world is different than the one she comes from -- that Journal of Vertebrate Paleontology proved it to her, months ago -- so the unfamiliar name doesn't trouble her at all. The three researchers and their luggage make it to the airport by a combination of Floo and the more mundane taxicab, and are made comfortable on the plane. Four seats to a row, two on either side of the aisle, roomy. Up here in first-class, there's no danger of the seat assignment that long-legged elbowy Chance always dreads, the squished-up middle seat. Thoughtfully, the ticket agent has assigned them all places near one another: Henry and Dax side by side, Dax in the window seat, and Chance in the row just in front of theirs, also in a window seat.

The flight attendant offers them liquor. Chance gives the offer a moment of serious consideration before she asks for bottled water instead. She's never flown over an ocean before.

She sort of wishes she had some kind of sedative. Or that she'd smoked up before the flight, or something. Knowing Hogwarts, that would have resulted in her asking everyone to save the whales, and getting kicked off the plane for refusing to stop playing acoustic folk songs. So she's completely sober and in her right mind and nervous as all hell. And as the plane lifts off, visions of organ traffickers dance in Chance's head. Who knows what's going to be waiting for them in Hershey?

Current Location: in an airplane

chance-silvey.livejournal.com

Chance has applied to the Ministry of Magic for a research grant, just as she told Henry and Dax she would. She hasn't expected to hear much back for a while, if ever. She knows what applying for government money is like.

So when she gets an owl in just a little over a week, and from the Sorting Hat rather than the Ministry, Chance is more than a little surprised. And, considering the things she's heard about this whole Hershey-Kandy-liopleurodon nexus of nefarious doings her research intersects, she's also more than a little suspicious.

Not too suspicious to look a gift horse in the mouth, though. She figures she ought to warn the others and give them an out, if they don't want to risk involvement any longer. It's Chance's harebrained quest, not theirs, and as soon as she finds a liopleurodon or relics thereof, she herself plans to cut and run.

( owls to Dax and to Henry Winter, warded to self-destruct if intercepted by anyone other than the intended recipients, especially if intercepted by NEB-1 )

Current Location: Ravenclaw dorm

h-m-winter.livejournal.com

( You give me that look that's like laughing/with liquid in your mouth/like you're choosing between choking/and spitting it all out/like you're trying to fight gravity/on a planet that insists/that love is like falling/and falling is like this )

((Warning: Here Be Smut))

Current Music: Ani Difranco - Falling Is Like This

h-m-winter.livejournal.com

( And if only time will tell/then I can’t stand waiting/while the lights are changing on me/Tell it to my own free will/If I lost this thorn from my side/I’d probably die./Most likely die/I think I’d die )