sortinghat_rp | (no subject)

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This is perhaps the strangest hallucination I have ever experienced. Tactile is not generally a component nor do I tend to believe I've lived two different childhoods. Can't be H.O.U.N.D. and I haven't used. Lucid dreaming, perhaps? Most likely though in that case I have rather lost control. Very odd indeed, but then I do seem to harbor the belief that this book will populate itself with responses and that I'm at a school for learning magic. It hardly does to only call one thing odd when so much is absolutely ridiculous. But I believe it. That shouldn't be possible.

I'll have to consider carefully how to move forward from here. I'm not sure how but it could be Moriarty. Makes as much sense as anything.

[ooc - replies with not_a_hero. 4th wall breaking is A-Okay]

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[Sherlock writes back almost immediately "so am I" and appears right behind John from his hiding spot in the shadows. He's smirks, more or less having forgotten all about their morning tiff.]

Ready to go then, are you? Come on. The night's young and so are you.

[He gestures for John to follow him as he starts to walk down the path towards the forest. He's for a box of matches and a few rolls of cloth in his pockets to fasten a torch out of once they get there.]

[John jumps a bit when Sherlock seems to come out of nowhere, but he recovers quickly. he nods at Sherlock's question and follows readily. This whole idea is stupid and dangerous and just all around not good, but he can't help the way his heart pounds in excitement as they make their way down the forest path.]

I looked everywhere and didn't find the gun or anything that could really be a useful weapon. The closest thing I have is a pair of scissors. I also brought some bandages just in case, but that's about it.

Then we'll just make sure we're quiet and don't disturb too many things in our exploration.

[He grabs a stick and wraps the cloth around the end, lighting it on fire. He waves it in front of them to light their way.]

It can't really be all that dangerous, you know. There are kids nearby.

[Even though they aren't in the forest yet, John is already on alert. He looks around frequently, trying to keep a handle on his surroundings.]

There's also a giant squid in the lake, which is also nearby. And inside the school itself? Stairways that change on you mid-step, which can send you down a flight of stairs. Oh, yeah, and how about all the poisons we work with in Potions class everyday?

I'm just saying the school and the grounds are covered in dangerous stuff, even if there are kids around.

I must say, I like the idea of a school that treats its students like intelligent human beings capable of avoiding danger.

[Which obviously does not include them. Sherlock continues to lead the way until they get to the forest.]

Any last requests?

[John racks his memory for what he'd learned about the sort of creatures that live in the forest.]

If we run into any centaurs, keep your mouth shut and let me try to talk us out of it. Unless you want your disrespectful speech to get you trampled by a giant man-horse.

Other than that, at least try to not get eaten by anything.

I intend to do far better than try.

[Sherlock will accept the whole rude mouth comment as it stands, however. He leads them in, holding back a few branches for John as they go.]

Did you notice the stars?

[John sticks close, ducking below branches and keeping his eyes open for anything unusual.]

No, I didn't think to look. Why? Navigation?

Unless you think you can tell the trees apart and recognize the way back out, yes. Not to worry, though. I'm rather good at this.

Travel through many dangerous magical woods, do you?

Dunno how much use the stars would've been anyway. We are talking about a dense, creepy forest. In Scotland. In a very damp part of spring. None of that really adds up to clear skies. We'd have been better off bringing something to leave behind, like Hansel and Gretel and their trail of breadcrumbs.

... I'm Hansel in this situation, for the record.

My memory of the story doesn't really hold favorably to that choice. You always do tend to default to the more traditionally masculine roles. I don't mind being Gretel, though.

[Sherlock climbed up some fallen tree, easily walking up the knobby wall of dead wood with his long legs.]

I'll find out footprints in the mud, then. We'll be fine. Or we'll end up spending the night. One way or another, yes?

Footprints might do. We'll really know to worry if you spot our tracks and they're accompanied by the prints of something strange.

[John attempts to climb up on his own, but no matter how valiantly he tries, his legs just aren't long enough to get good traction. He sighs in irritation.]

Think I'll need a leg-up.

[Sherlock looks down and sighs. Oh, John -_-

He walks back over to the side John's still on and offers him a hand.]

Try and pull yourself up.

[John scowls a bit.]

Don't give me that look. Not all of us can be 90% legs.

[Still, he grasps Sherlock's hand. Fortunately, it's just enough leverage to do the trick, and John manages to pull himself up.]

I'll keep that in mind should we find ourselves running in a hurry.

[He waits for John only long enough to see he won't need more help then is off again, looking up into the trees as well as down along the broken and dead things on the ground.]

Large things have moved through here. See how everything is broken up to waist level?

[It takes John a moment to right himself and brush himself off. By the time he looks back up, Sherlock is several paces away. He tries to quicken his pace to catch up, but Sherlock's remark distracts him. He looks down, noticing the destruction Sherlock mentioned.]

Yeah. Whatever made this mess had to have been pretty strong. What do you think it was?

Nearly impossible to tell just from this. Smaller than a centaur though so you can relax on having to play diplomat. Most likely four legged, though, given the path it carved through the twigs and undergrowth. Too tall to be a lizard and no drag marks from a tail. Mammal sounds likely. Most large mammals are vegetarians but I'm willing to bet there are plenty of wizard world beasts that go against that statement.

[John kneels, hoping to get a slightly better look.]

You're definitely right there. Underestimating the size and general nastiness of anything in this forest would be a terrible idea.

Do you think it came through recently?

Hard to tell with the mud. If I could find a footprint... AH!

[Sherlock leaps along, kneeling down near a patch of brush over a spread of mud.]

Less than half an hour judging by these prints! Still relatively fresh with very few water pools from the soil saturation. Long claws, padded feet... hairy. Bit hard to tell feline from canine but these claws are massive!

[It's hard not to appreciate or at least be amused by the enthusiasm, even if it means there's a quickly-spreading gap between John and Sherlock... and by extension, their only torch. As long as he can still see the light and hear Sherlock's voice, it's not too bad, but it's best to try not to get too separated, especially with all this talk about giant claws.

He jumps down. Considerably easier than climbing up, that.]

Given this is magic we're talking about, it might somehow be canine and feline all at once. Can you tell which direction it was going?

Given that feet aren't generally worn backwards, yes. It went in through there.

[Sherlock waves the torch out in front. The light catches in the eyes of something watching them. Sherlock sits up a little straighter. Oh.]

[John rolls his eyes.]

You know what I meant. Prat.

[Being a bit further off, John doesn't see the glint of the light against the eyes. All he sees is Sherlock suddenly go still and rigid. He frowns and takes a few steps closer.]

Sherlock...?

[Sherlock holds his hand back for him to stop.]

John, you might want to try getting back over that tree now.

[Now worried, he takes a few more, quicker steps forward.]

What are you talk-

[He's cut off by a terrible growl that freezes him in place and sends chills down his spine. It takes a second for him to realize it's coming from right in front of Sherlock.]

Jesus Christ, get the hell away from it!

I'm maintaining direct eye contact, am holding a stick on fire and am 90% legs. Get. Over. The. Tree. Don't run, back away as slowly as you can, and don't make any quick movements.

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