sortinghat_rp | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

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]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Hogsmeade should be ideal. I've more than enough cash reserves. Far better than sharing a room with strangers the likes of Tony Stark. I can see to your accommodations as well if necessary.

[John sighs and runs a hand down his face. Though his hands are hardly lily-soft normally, he's still surprised by the number of calluses.]

What time were you planning on pressing your luck with every nasty magical creature in Britain? If I just go along to Hogsmeade with you, it cuts the risk of me showing up too late.

[He's pleased but tries not to look it.]

Nightfall, obviously. One can hardly stalk creatures in the day. We'll need a torch of some manner. Do you have your gun?

My gun?!

Ah - no, can't say that I've seen a gun. I think this body only came with these clothes. Thank God for that, at least, but a beat-up old jacket, jumper, and jeans aren't nearly as useful as a gun.

Well, that will make things a bit more interesting, I suspect. Unless I can locate a gun before now and then. I'm sure it will all pan out, though. If not, then I'll certainly know this isn't some sort of shared hallucination.

Yeah, good luck finding a gun here. You've seen there's no electricity or any devices like that, right? If you've got a mobile on you, it won't be working either. Don't know if guns are included, but most Muggle technology just doesn't operate here.

You still think this is a hallucination? I swear, if I die because you think all this isn't real, I'm going to haunt you mercilessly. I'm talking multiple rattling chains, furious Poltergeist activity, and... not moaning, moaning's too subdued. Screamed profanitites, there we go.

I'll be sure to offer you some tea.

Guns are hardly technologically advanced. We've been using pistols in Britain for centuries. In your defense, my dual younger self has no memories of any guns in the family estate but I find it hard to believe those of the lesser financial classes would rely only on wands. Do hunters go out in the woods armed with wands? Do you pluck deer from the brush with a killing curse? Considering how taboo it is, I highly doubt it. So there must be something used to murder mundane things and a gun is the most likely.

I don't know, I think the idea of just using wands makes sense. Maybe not using the killing curse, but there's spells that can slice like knives and other types of projectile spells. I mean, it makes sense. As a species, we've had wood a hell of a lot longer than we've had molded metal and gunpowder.

Not that it matters, since we won't be able to use either on your little forest adventure. Speaking of which, is there anything in particular you want to find there?

For a mudblood you're very adamant about wizarding ways. I don't supposed it matters, though. We'll go it without.

I'd like to find signs of Death Eaters, though. I seem to recall some concern over dark magic being used in the school or at least having enough spread to effect it. Would make for a good hiding location.

[John visibly bristles at the use of the slur. It's been so long since he's heard Sherlock use the word, and it's jarring to hear it again. Disappointing and, yes, hurtful too.]

You do not get to use that word again just because you've got two memories mixed up in your head. I don't care what the other bit thinks of the situation, but I know part of you knows damn well what that word reminds me of. You haven't used it in a long time, and I'm not about to just let you start up with it again.

Understand?

[Sherlock arches his left brow. Well, that certainly did illicit an interesting response.]

It's only a word. It carries as much weight as you let it and nothing more. If you want to work in a wizard hospital, get used to slurs. The people who need you are often the ones who strike verbally. Passive aggressive response to helplessness, especially if at the mercy of someone they oppose but cannot deny--like the skills of a muggle-born healer for a pure-blood elitist. I'm intimately familiar with the type but no cry of freak or psychopath is going to make me behave in such a way as to lose my privileges in performing my work. You'd be better off learning to accept the word as merely an indicator of the stupidity of others.

Or, in my case, of a complete lack of concern towards the politically correct. You knew what I meant and knew I meant nothing by it. Stop choosing to be a defensive irritant.

[Nope, not gonna work, Sherlock. Sorry. John keeps his eyes pinned on Sherlock's. He's not backing down.]

I know I'll be called slurs from idiots if I get the job I want. If I've got a pureblood patient and they're a big enough moron to call the person trying to keep them alive a mudblood, or worse, then whatever. It doesn't matter. Once they're not my patient anymore, I'll never have to see or think about their ignorant arse again.

But you're my friend. And you're not an idiot, even if you're a stubborn prat most of the time. You know I was called that slur over and over when I was attacked, and though it just gets me angry when I hear some random idiot say it, you matter. You might not mean it the same way they did, but that sure as hell doesn't mean I have to just put up with hearing it from you.

Like you said, you don't care if others call you 'freak' or 'psychopath'. Would you feel the same way if it were me casually throwing those around at you?

[Sherlock half pouts. He hates it when John is right. Especially a seventeen year old John.]

Fair point. Fine. Apologies.

[John gives a brief, sharp nod.]

Accepted. Just keep it in mind.

[He stands up and allows a bit of the alert stiffness to drain from him.]

I'm going to see if I can get back into Hufflepuff. If I can, I'll check all my stuff and see if I wound up with any of the other John's things. I'll let you know if I find the gun, but I really do doubt it. When were you planning on heading to Hogsmeade?

Soon. Now's fine I suppose. If you can get in, then meet me at the inn at sundown. If you can't, meet me there earlier.

[He stands up. Trying to not still be grumpy. Got chastised ~_~]

[John arrives at the inn just before sundown. He successfully managed to get back into Hufflepuff, but even after thoroughly scouring his dorm, he found no signs of any of the other John's possessions. They really would be going in defenseless. He'd used the secret path to the Shrieking Shack to escape the school, and now he stands at the inn's entrance.

With a sigh, he pulls out his journal from his coat pocket to send a quick message.]

I'm outside the inn.

[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.

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action - Hogsmeade and Forest]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]