open rp post

[wunderkind]

an open rp post
(it is what it says it is)

-1-
pick a character

-2-
leave me a comment. maybe a scenario, maybe an AU scenario, maybe a picture, maybe a word,
maybe a request to resume old game canon, maybe just a comment.
i don't care. do your worst.

-2a-
helpful note: i am currently obsessed with the Hunger Games and Christmas. can you combine those into one tag?

-3-
let's get it on



disclaimer: we probably won't get it on
+ there are no promises i will take this seriously

Comments

this one is for snow on the tq

[strayed]

[doggedly]

[It's not like Sirius likes Miss Cora Hale. Or, well, that is to say: he likes her, but he doesn't necessary like her like her, no more than he like-likes any other girl. Which isn't strictly true, when he reviews that thought. There is something about her that he can't quite work past, which is in of itself very similar to like-liking. She frustrates him to some degree, and that is something that girls don't typically do to Sirius Black.

But it's not like he's in love with her or anything. And it's likely that she doesn't much like him--which, all right, he can resign himself to, and either proceed to 1) irritate her just because of the incongruity of their feelings for one another, or 2) get her to like him.

Snow can accomplish both of those things. Or either. Does she like snow? He doesn't know, he actually doesn't know too much about Cora, personally--not like favorite colours and things, no mundane details, just weird snippets of things. But how can anyone dislike snow on a spaceship, where the weather is always the same (that is to say, non-existent). And how can anyone dislike snow that isn't properly cold, and doesn't even need below-freezing temperatures to maintain itself? Snow indoors is pretty brilliant, surely everyone can agree with that.

In sum: when Cora leaves her room today, the corridor is full of snow. The ceiling is lost in a haze of gray clouds, or something very like clouds anyways, from which snow is drifting down, gently, piled in banks and drifts and amassing slowly, gently--and it isn't too cold to the touch, and the air of the corridor is only a little brisk, nothing like a bone-deep winter chill.

And someone out in the corridor is whistling Christmas carols. God Rest Ye Merry, Hippogriffs, and so on--who cares that space doesn't have Christmas, or winter, or seasons at all? To charm girls, Sirius will go to great lengths in creating all of those things, Christmas winter seasons and all. And if it's irritation that he achieves instead, well, all right.

Idly, he waves his wand, sending a gust of wind down the corridor. He's sitting just beside a large snowbank, blissful in his own genius.]