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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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.

[Despite the fact that his heart is thundering in his chest, John stays put. He even has the sense to lower his voice now that the shock's worn off.]

And what, just leave you there? We need the torch to see the way out of here, and I'm the only one of us with something that can even remotely be used as a weapon.

[He carefully slides the scissors out of his pocket, and does not back off toward the tree.]

I do hope you gave thought to the distance you need to effectively defend yourself with sewing supplies. I don't know that there's time to run now either way.

Do me a favor and close your eyes. I'm going to try to set it on fire. I want your night vision to be ready if we lose the torch.

[John draws in a sharp breath through his teeth, fuming that Sherlock's right. As much as John wants to just charge ahead and launch himself at whatever Sherlock's facing down, it's just not practical. It's just not practical.

He shuts his eyes and grinds his teeth.]

Shit! They're closed! But the second anything goes wrong, I'm charging at it and trying to get you out of there, short legs be damned.

If there is one thing in this world I have absolute faith in, it is you.

On three, then. One... two....

[He lunges forward with his stick and the animal certainly does not like that. It backs away from the fire but only so as to try and come in around it. The dew on the ground has made the undergrowth hard to light and Sherlock worries the same may be true for the animal's coat. Not good.

It growls, nearly roars at them and in it's circling of the fire. Sherlock can see it clearly now and is... well, yes, surprised.]

It's a rodent!

[Not that that is entirely in their favor. He does not like the look of those front teeth. He makes one last good stab at it with the torch and he can smell singed fur and definitely tell the cry is one of pain but it will not catch. It lunges at him defensively, no longer too afraid of the fire not to chance the attack.]

[John doesn't have time to process the surprisingly candid remark from Sherlock when there's so much danger afoot. His eyes can't help flying open when he hears the creature shriek in pain. It takes a few seconds for his eyes to adjust and focus, but he sees the beast lunge for Sherlock.]

Sherlock!

[He breaks into a sprint, hoping to get there before too much damage is done. With both hands on the object, he jams the scissors into the unusually large rodent's thick hide. It's not enough to kill, but definitely enough to pierce and hurt. John can feel the creature's hot blood on his hands.]

[Sherlock's got the torch's wooden shaft in the rodent's jaws, wincing slightly at the claws as they try and pin him down. He watches John attack, surprised for only a moment by the fierce expression on his face, then feels rather alarmed when the rodent rears back towards its assailant, snapping it's teeth towards John's arm which they could likely snap like twigs. He most certainly does not have the beasts attention any more. He stabs at it with the torch again but the impact is blunt and snaps the broken shaft. The fire manages to catch on a small patch of brush dry enough to smoke, though.

Sherlock gets up, trying to grab the things tail, jump on it, anything to help John.]

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