therealpm: (Damn)
[personal profile] therealpm
*Peter wakes up slowly, and once again, dresses cautiously. The wards show some magical activity occurred late last night, and although the spell seems not to have targeted this room, it is always better to be careful- his new wards are not perfect, after all.

The location of the spell becomes obvious as soon as he opens his bedroom door. Plastic cups full of water stretch the breadth of the corridor and several feet either side of Peter's door- far too far for him to merely step over. A sharply curtailed attempt to move a few reveals that the cups are stapled together, and cannot be shifted without spilling a considerable amount of water.

Attempts to levitate the array or freeze the water meet with little success- Peter's magic is still far too weak for brute force to work, and persuading the entire thing to either move or freeze as one is an almost impossible task- like trying to direct every individual bee in a swarm.

He rocks back on his heels, chewing his lower lip, unwilling to admit defeat.*

...Miles?

(no subject)

Date: 2012-11-06 08:59 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] bamfbercow.livejournal.com
*John slowly awakens and stretches out in the bed. With Sally in Wales, he has the bed to himself, and while the extra space is always nice, he does miss her so. He yawns and tries to sit up. Something doesn't feel right.*

*He looks down at his hands.*



*He swears at length and starts running over in his mind how this could have happened. After all, they still haven't traced how Peter became a wolf; perhaps John caught it from the same place!*

*He begins contemplating handing himself into DEFRA and having the whole of Parliament quarantined - but it's Treasury Questions today and he still needs to give Osborne a hard time at the box. What if - horror of horrors - the source of the lycanthropy was inside Speaker's House?! What if he'd infected his entire family!?*

*John starts to panic until he catches sight of himself in the mirror. A perfectly ordinary John looks back at him.*

...oh you bastard, Peter.

*The longer he looks at his hand, the less hairy is seems to be, and before long it's back to its original form.*

*John resolves to get his own back (he needs to step up his game after this). He goes to make tea and plot more revenge.*

(no subject)

Date: 2012-11-06 09:37 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] therealpm.livejournal.com
*To say that Miles is unimpressed, both with the prank and Peter's inability to extricate himself from it, would be a grotesque understatement. After enduring several barbed comments from his older brother regarding the general uselessness of magic and immaturity of mages, Peter points out that he is still trapped in the room and that the physio will be visiting this afternoon.

Miles sighs, and tries to unpick one of the staples. His only reward is a puncture wound under one thumbnail and water all over the carpet.

Peter suggests that removing the water to a bucket first might be a good idea.

Miles thanks him for this 'astute observation' but points out that he doesn't have any sort of piping or pump with which to do so.

Eventually they settle on the idea of sponges; Miles is dispatched to fetch a couple of buckets and two fresh kitchen scrubbers whilst Peter thinks up incresingly complex plans for revenge. On Miles's return, he passes half the equipment across, an act which requires far more stretching and balance than either would like, and the two settle down to carefully transferring as much of the water from the cups to the buckets as possible.*

(no subject)

Date: 2012-11-06 07:30 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] bamfbercow.livejournal.com
*Calmed at last, John settles down with the order papers for the day. His mind isn't on them. He needs to think of a way to get back at Peter for that truly horrible prank, but so far he isn't coming up with anything he thinks would fit.*

*Instead - wanting to get his own back - he resolves to work on a bigger plan during the day and cause Peter a minor annoyance until then.*

*John focuses very hard. In an instant, packets of balloons from the parliamentary office supplies are ripped out of their bags. They transport to the room that Peter is currently sitting in and as soon as they cross the wards, inflate.*

That should keep him busy for a while...
Edited Date: 2012-11-06 07:37 pm (UTC)

(no subject)

Date: 2012-11-06 07:59 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] therealpm.livejournal.com
*They've finally mopped up the last of the water, allowing Peter to leave his room and settle down into one of the plush chairs of the living room with a sigh of relief and a much needed cup of tea, when he hears a loud 'pop' somewhere behind him. He twists, nearly spilling tea all over the carpet. Another pop! This time from his left. Peter carefully sets his tea on the table and scans the room- a dark green balloon bounces softly in the corner.

Even as he rubs his eyes in surprise, more pop loudly into existance- covering the floor and soon beginning to fill the room. He gets up and tries to wade to the door, but the balloons are now up to his waist and the room is filling faster by the second. By the time he's got past the coffee table, the balloons have reached chest level. Peter lets out a small yelp as the balloons rise enough to cover his head. He can't move. Inflated rubber presses against him on all sides. The air his lungs can reach is moist with his own breath- the balloons in front of his face are damp with it already and he can hear the sound of his own breathing.

Hang on.

The balloons have stopped 'popping' into the room. Presumably the spell is over. Peter wriggles his keys out of his pocket and jabs one into the nearest commons-coloured orb. It bursts, but another does not spring into being to replace it. Good.

Peter shoves the keys back in his pocket and summons up the most basic kind of magic. The first thing that is taught to child-mages when their talents begin to show: fire. A myriad of sparks fly from his fingers and a cacophony of pops, bangs and the occasional shrieking whistle ensues as the tiny flames hit rubber. Within seconds, nothing is left of John's prank other than a rather thick layer of shredded dark green latex covering every surface.

Miles was going to have a fit.*
Edited Date: 2012-11-06 10:24 pm (UTC)
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