9:00 am, home overlooking Richmond Park
Aug. 31st, 2012 09:35 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
therealpm*Peter gets up from the bed, feeling immensely groggy- for some reason his limbs feel stiff and achy. He blames the sudden change in the weather and drop in temperature last night.
The hallway and some of the furnishings look like they've been ransacked- Peter suspects burglars until he notices the muddy pawprints on the floor.*
Jack...
*He finds Jack cowering under a small coffee table, clearly terrified- ears back and shaking, so picks him up to cuddle and soothe him back to his normal bouncy self whilst surveying the damage.*
You're more trouble than you're worth, sometimes, hmm? What gave you such a fright?
*He strokes Jack behind the ears, thinking that at least George would enjoy it if they had to redecorate. Walking through to the hall, he sees that the front door is fine, but a brief trip through the kitchen to the back garden confirms that the back door is smashed in. Burglars, perhaps chased off by a very exuberant Jack, are now looking like the most plausible solution. Putting Jack down and absentmindedly filling the dog's food bowl, he wonders what to do. He ought to call the police, obviously, but Peter had rather been enjoying his time out of the headlines and is reluctant to stir anything up, especially with the Murdoch press so keen to prove their disregard for Leveson.
He gets out a metal bowl- one of a set of mixing bowls as it happens that he bought from John Lewis a while ago, and fills it with water from the tap. Scrying was never his strong point at school, but Vince had given him several helpful pointers back when their respective parties were on better terms. He could ask The Machine, but magical influence worked to a power law with distance, and Regent's park was just a tad too far out for The Machine's central sensors to scan effectively. Peter cursed not installing the remote ones sooner. There had just been so many other things to do...
Peter looks back into the bowl and tries to refocus his mind on scrying. He searches for the intruders responsible for the damage, but nothing comes up. He broadens his search to humans who entered the house last night and his mind aches with the strain of processing a query that large. He grits his teeth and waits- still nothing. Great. So either what entered his house last night wasn't human, or it was a wizard powerful enough to cloak themself from view, even several hours later.
The police probably wouldn't be of much use.
Rubbing his eyes, he dragged out a copy of yellow pages. One quick phone call later and he is assured that his door will be fixed that afternoon. In the meantime, Peter decides to busy himself with tidying up, though not before a cup of coffee. His blackberry beeps to indicate he'd missed a text from last night. It's only John worried about something or other. He sends off a terse response, not in the mood to deal with the Speaker's whims today. Sipping his coffee, he sets off to find a mop and begin the tedious process of cleaning things up.*
The hallway and some of the furnishings look like they've been ransacked- Peter suspects burglars until he notices the muddy pawprints on the floor.*
Jack...
*He finds Jack cowering under a small coffee table, clearly terrified- ears back and shaking, so picks him up to cuddle and soothe him back to his normal bouncy self whilst surveying the damage.*
You're more trouble than you're worth, sometimes, hmm? What gave you such a fright?
*He strokes Jack behind the ears, thinking that at least George would enjoy it if they had to redecorate. Walking through to the hall, he sees that the front door is fine, but a brief trip through the kitchen to the back garden confirms that the back door is smashed in. Burglars, perhaps chased off by a very exuberant Jack, are now looking like the most plausible solution. Putting Jack down and absentmindedly filling the dog's food bowl, he wonders what to do. He ought to call the police, obviously, but Peter had rather been enjoying his time out of the headlines and is reluctant to stir anything up, especially with the Murdoch press so keen to prove their disregard for Leveson.
He gets out a metal bowl- one of a set of mixing bowls as it happens that he bought from John Lewis a while ago, and fills it with water from the tap. Scrying was never his strong point at school, but Vince had given him several helpful pointers back when their respective parties were on better terms. He could ask The Machine, but magical influence worked to a power law with distance, and Regent's park was just a tad too far out for The Machine's central sensors to scan effectively. Peter cursed not installing the remote ones sooner. There had just been so many other things to do...
Peter looks back into the bowl and tries to refocus his mind on scrying. He searches for the intruders responsible for the damage, but nothing comes up. He broadens his search to humans who entered the house last night and his mind aches with the strain of processing a query that large. He grits his teeth and waits- still nothing. Great. So either what entered his house last night wasn't human, or it was a wizard powerful enough to cloak themself from view, even several hours later.
The police probably wouldn't be of much use.
Rubbing his eyes, he dragged out a copy of yellow pages. One quick phone call later and he is assured that his door will be fixed that afternoon. In the meantime, Peter decides to busy himself with tidying up, though not before a cup of coffee. His blackberry beeps to indicate he'd missed a text from last night. It's only John worried about something or other. He sends off a terse response, not in the mood to deal with the Speaker's whims today. Sipping his coffee, he sets off to find a mop and begin the tedious process of cleaning things up.*
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2012-08-31 04:02 pm (UTC)... Have you been doing some re-arranging around here?
(no subject)
Date: 2012-08-31 04:42 pm (UTC)Well spotted. Was it the stacked coffee tables that gave it away or the sofa in the skip outside?
(no subject)
Date: 2012-08-31 05:04 pm (UTC)Mainly the sofa. The coffee tables, I'm happy to say, escaped my notice - oh, and you've got a new door, as well. So, are you going to tell me what's happened, or aren't you? Assuming that something did happen and this bout of redecoration isn't just one of your charming whims.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-08-31 05:23 pm (UTC)It seems someone tried to break in and was chased off rather vigorously and with no small amount of incidental damage, by Jack. Nothing is missing though. I suppose it's one way to wake one up in the morning, and it does give me an opportunity to change the decor to something slightly more red whilst George is away.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-08-31 05:42 pm (UTC)Bloody hell. That must have made quite a racket. Good thing Jack was here, hmm? Now that you mention it, where is your pet? Not the dog, I mean, the Tory. I haven't seen him in person for a pleasantly long time.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-08-31 05:49 pm (UTC)Constituency work. I'm told he'll be returning at some point in the near future.
*Peter eyes a nearby window critically.*
Alastair. Given that you're terribly tall and can reach things far beyond the grasp of us other mere mortals, would you mind giving me a hand with these curtains?
(no subject)
Date: 2012-08-31 06:10 pm (UTC)Shame. Still, I suppose the people of Tatton deserve a break just as much as the rest of us.
Really? I thought you'd have one of your fancy voodoo spells on it by now. All right, since I'm here and waiting on you hand and foot anyway, I may as well. Step aside, puny human.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-08-31 06:42 pm (UTC)*Peter rolls his eyes and hands Alastair a large swath of fabric.*
Why thank you, kindly giant.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-08-31 06:51 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-08-31 07:11 pm (UTC)Peter screams as the bones in his hands, now more resembling pinched claws, grow, stretching the skin. His screams turn to howls of pain as the base of his spine shifts, pitching him onto all fours. He shudders as his ribs move into place, shaking the remnants of jeans and jumper to the floor, then licks his lips. He can smell a human and he is hungry.
Turning, he pads through to the living room, claws clicking on the tiles, sharp teeth bared and ready to strike*
(no subject)
Date: 2012-08-31 07:34 pm (UTC)Jack?
*An angry-looking motherfucker of a wolf appears in the doorway and continues to make its way towards him, teeth bared. Alastair backs up rapidly to the window.* Sssshhhhit. *Panicking, he tugs the curtain down out of the rail and clutches it defensively before chucking it as hard as he can in the wolf's face.*
(no subject)
Date: 2012-08-31 07:40 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-08-31 08:02 pm (UTC)*Alastair inelegantly mounts his bike on the move and weaves out of the garden and onto the pavement, fuelled by adrenaline, heart pounding so hard it feels like it might give up at any minute. He glances back and immediately regrets it; through the dark he can see the shape of the wolf lunging after him, just a few yards back. He cycles rapidly away from Peter's house, turning instinctively for home but with no expectation of actually getting there in one piece.
Up ahead, a bus is indicating to cross their path. Rightly too scared to slow down, he nips in front of it - to a blast on the horn from the driver - and manages to put the bus between himself and the wolf for a few seconds. He turns down a side-street and pedals furiously until the sound of heavy paws and snarling seems to have faded away for now. He suspects if the wolf is determined enough it will be able to smell him out.
Anyone could smell him from halfway across London, the way he's sweating.Gasping for breath, he starts to rack his brains for someone to turn to, and checks his pockets for his mobile with one hand while the other stays fixed to the handlebars.*(no subject)
Date: 2012-08-31 08:12 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-08-31 08:22 pm (UTC)Pick... up... you short-arsed... bastard...
*The phone rings and rings until, just when Alastair is sure it's not going to be answered, it is. But not by John.*
(no subject)
Date: 2012-08-31 08:31 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-08-31 08:54 pm (UTC)Did you find the werewolf?
(no subject)
Date: 2012-08-31 09:05 pm (UTC)I'm not John, but I found the fucking werewolf - *Glances back and spots a low shape bounding towards him.* - it found me. Please get me out of here.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-08-31 09:07 pm (UTC)No, nevermind that, where are you?
(no subject)
Date: 2012-08-31 09:13 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-08-31 09:16 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-08-31 09:27 pm (UTC)*He hangs up and nearly drops his phone while stuffing it back into his pocket. Abandoning his bike in the grass, he sprints into the darkness to find somewhere to hide while waiting for the rescue.*