dresden_kink | Dressing Room

Entry tags:

open,
rpg

Dressing Room

Ack! Close the door; people are changing in here!

This post is for RPG shenanigans. The rules stand. A short refresher: don't be an asshole.

This post-specifics: multiple characters are okay. Characters specific to alternate verses are okay. OCs are okay. Your journal coming in to hang too is okay. There isn't a formal scenario here; it's an open sandbox where all characters and community-watchers can come and play. If your thread is going adult-only, put up a notice in the subject line. If it's going into trigger territory, don't be an asshole: no noncon-noncon'ing anyone, watchers included. Don't start OOC shit.

And have a blast!

(Don't have a dreamwidth account for your character(s)? Go check out

dw_codesharing. If there's nothing on the first page, dig deep. Lots get missed, especially when new codes go out. Also, check out the code sharing post.)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Okay. [This is weird and unprecedented. But really interesting. Cujo. Acting on his own. The geek in Harry just wants to take notes and investigate the hell out of this.

He leans on his staff, watching Hendricks go to meet the courier. There is indeed a kite visible in her hands. Maybe this isn't a scheme. Or maybe Harry just can't see the angle.

Either way. Interesting.]

He gets the kite-- and the text waiting for him as soon as he turns his phone on again, taking advantage of Dresden's distance to check it. Sighs and taps one out back, promising nothing's wrong and to fill Marcone in on the situation when he's back. Apparently John just can't believe he'd want to fly a kite on his lunch break.

"Here," he grunts, as soon as he's back. He's half surprised Dresden's still there. He holds the kite out. "What do you think?"

I think I'm at home, asleep, having a really weird dream. [He rubs the back of his neck and instead of taking the kite he pulls his own chunk of chalk out of his coat.] All right, so it looks like you aren't screwing with me.

Do you... know how to work one of those things? [He nods to the kite, unsure. The principle for the trap is sound. It's just...

He's never flown a kite before. That was the sort of things kids did when they had yards and toys and such. Not an orphan in a children's home.]

...Does. He know how to fly a kite?

Hendricks shoves his own chalk in his pocket and gives Dresden a suspicious look. He's sure Dresden's messing with him. ...but he sounds honestly unsure.

"It's been a few years, but I think I can manage it."

So...

"I play the bait then?"

You're a bigger morsel than I am, Cujo. Might as well give the faerie something to chase. [Which is pretty callous, so he sighs and changes track.] But you'll be fine. If it gets anywhere near you, I'll take care of it. Marcone would probably demand a weregild for you anyway.

[He walks to where the grass gives way to concrete and sets to making a circle. A big circle, carefully arching the lines to make it perfect. He's more than happy to leave the kite flying to Hendricks.]

He squashes any amusement at the sight of Dresden crouched over like a giant-sized seven year old, playing with sidewalk chalk. Because yeah. He's about to fly a goddamn kite.

He unwraps a few feet of string, and sucks on a finger, testing the wind. Gentle. Cool. Maybe a little low, but just about perfect. And here's where he wishes they'd found him a kite in a color scheme other than rainbow.

"Hey, Dresden?" He holds the kite up one-handed, the string with the other, trying to catch the breeze. "Give me a jump?"

[Harry's in the process of bending his body like a six-foot-nine protractor, detailing the circle in the ground. If it looks like it's awkward work, that's only because it is.

He looks up, surprised, and immediately wishing he could use cameras like the rest of the world because Hendricks standing there with a colorful toy kite is probably one of the best things he's ever seen on a case. He grins for a sec before rewinding what Hendricks said in his head.]

Oh, yeah, sure. [With a simple open palm and an indirect push of will, he murmurs,] Ventas.

The kite catches the breeze, snapping out of his hand. It spins and dives, but he pumps the string, and it evens out, carried up by Dresden's push and a bit of luck.

There. What kind of wind-making air-elemental could resist that? "Now I guess we wait," he says, shoots a look back at Dresden.

[Harry dusts off his hands and stands. He steps gingerly out of the circle, but starts to focus on it to ready it for the Sylph.] Yeah. When the Sylph goes for the bait, try to... I don't know, rein in the kite and bring it this way?

[He walks to stand by Cujo, watching how he works the kite in his hands. It's new to Harry and makes him feel... not nostalgic, because you can't be nostalgic for things you haven't done, but something like that.

He sees a few people staring at them. He startles out of his brief melancholy and realizes what they must look like.] Well, this is mortifying.

Hendricks does his best to ignore the onlookers. What, have they never seen someone flying a kite before? He grunts. "You're the one who wears the El Dorado coat."

The kite dives suddenly, hit with a gust of wind-- he tenses, pulls gently on the string... it evens out, back to normal. His eyes narrow. Just keep waiting. Like any other stake out. "You want a go?"

The El Dorado coat can block semi-automatic fire, Cujo. [And he thinks he looks good in it. It's heavy and dramatic, and wizards can use that to their advantage. Plus, long coats are cool. Harry knows this from his comic books.

At Hendricks' offer, Harry... looks away, appearing to check that his circle is still unbroken.] That's... fine, no. I need to be ready to bring the circle up. I'm good. You've got it well in hand. Never knew you had it in you, Cujo.

"Just offering." Cujo. He rolls his eyes. No one ever accused Dresden of not having a sense of drama. Or knowing anything about him, but he was fine to keep it that way.

"How high does that circle go? It's gonna catch it in the air, right?"

I know. Thanks. [He says softly, then immediately turns his attention to the task at hand. He can feel the Sylph's magic, but it's been lurking around the park long enough it feels like the faerie is everywhere.] It should, if I'm putting enough power into it, and I will. But we've got to get the Sylph in there before--

[There's a gust, not slamming directly into Harry like the last one, but close by. He can feel the shift in the wind, the way it shifts direction and pushes against the natural breeze.

Harry reaffirms his grip on his staff and shields his eyes with his other hand, trying to squint into the sky.] Incoming.

He can feel it, the tingle from his watch face, the little popping sparks that indicate something faerie-made, the way the wind dips and changes-- the kite starts spinning like a top, impossible, jerking in his hands like it's going to take him with it.

"Dresden!" He braces against the pull, shoulders burning against the rotation, trying to keep it steady. "Get ready!" It starts spinning the other way, and he pumps on the string, pulling it with him towards the circle.

[Watching a tiny fae creature trying to carry off a bulky Outfit button man is kind of hilarious, but it's go time, and Harry's always ready for things like this.

Staff in hand, he gathers his will. He needs the circle to be strong and sky-high. His power simmers, like a kettle ready to whistle. Harry watches like a hawk, judging where the Sylph must be, trying to pinpoint when it'll be within the wide circle he's drawn.

He's seen Hendricks survive a hoard of uber ghouls. One little mischievous faerie isn't going to take the big guy out. It takes a moment, but Harry sees the kite twist into the circle.

He lifts his staff with a wordless cry of effort, and the circle snaps into place.

Oh. With Cujo inside. Huh.]

Okay. Don't panic. [He walks to the circle, slowly.] It's gonna be fine, it's one Sylph and it's cut off from the air outside the circle. Don't panic.

The circle closes around him and all he can do is think 'of course' before his feet leave the actual goddamn ground. He growls and yanks on the kite string, toes pointing down scuffing on the concrete.

Don't panic. Dresden and Douglas Adams. It figures.

And okay, it's just one little fae, a swirl of darker air in the wind, a buffeting out at the kite fabric, a gust of Jesus Christ cold up his pant legs. It's one little fae and it's probably pissed off now, but hey, he's in here with it. He's not the one who closed the circle.

"Okay," he says, "okay, calm down. You want the kite? You can have the kite." He lets go of the string.

[Harry grins.] Hey, good idea. We just need to see if it accepts the kite...

[The sylph evidentially does, spinning the kite through the air in the circle like a toy, sending it through loops and spirals, flashes of red, blue, green, yellow so fast they all blur into some unnamed color.

Harry tucks his thumbs in his pockets, unworried.] Since the kite's not mine, you're the one with the leverage. It's up to you to ask it to leave.

(OOC: Bedtime!)

He's back on solid ground, and that's what matters, so he sucks at his teeth a moment and watches the kite bob and weave, blurring into a rainbow, going so fast it probably constitutes a deadly weapon.

"Right... Okay." He looks up at the blur of kite, draws a deep breath. He's spoken for Marcone before. "You get the kite. That's good; you like it, right? So take it home. The circle breaks, you take it and you go, and you don't come back here, not to Chicago. You leave these people alone, and no sending any of your friends or anyone else in your place. And then the kite's yours to keep, if you keep your promise, and honor it in goodwill. Got it? We have a deal?"

He holds his breath-- shoots Dresden a look. He's done his part. Now it's up the sylph.

(ooc: night!)

[Harry smiles encouragingly. He may even give Hendricks a thumbs up.] See? Nothing to it once you get it corralled. Minor fae don't have much more power to throw around than your average magic user, especially unaffiliated fae.

[He breaks the circle with his toe, and the invisible walls of pure force dissipate. The kite above them pinwheels for a moment longer, then a blast of wind seems to hit it and it goes sailing threw the air, headed east. Harry follows its motion until it's too far away to see, likely out over the lake.] It's like giving a new toy to a kid.

As soon as the kite's going sideways, taking off like the proverbial rocket (or not so proverbial, given some of the footage of the early testing days), he's backing out of the circle. Not like he couldn't have broken it anytime, but there's safety in being out of the firing zone.

"Heh," he says, instead of 'yeah, you'd know something about that, right?' because as privileged and adolescent as Dresden's worldview is, it's nice not to be called Cujo. "Now we just hope it doesn't come back and bite us in the ass." Pragmatic. Practical. Contrary. Pick your word.

He looks down at his watch: lunch time is officially over. Not that he can't eat in his office, between meetings. He looks a few steps over to where he left his bag-- yeah, still there.

"Nice not to set anything on fire with you, Dresden." There. Call it an overture.

Well, if it does, I'm the one who trapped it, so it'll probably come after me. Doesn't matter. [He can handle it. He always handles it. His smile softens.] And Chicago is safe another day.

[Oh, they did it. Worked together and everything. No fire, no fuss. Unexpected, but nice. It didn't even dissolve into thinly veiled threats like it sometimes did with Marcone. Stars and stones, maybe Hendricks is a person all of his own. Scary thought.] Likewise, I guess. Sorry about your kite. I can get you a new one. Do you prefer the pride parade colors or would any kind do?

There he is-- that's the Dresden he was waiting for. He grunts, lifts his bag up and digs out a bao. Goes straight for the coconut cream because look at what he's dealing with here.

"You and your boyfriend go to the parade?" He can't do the Most Innocent Mobster In The World face like Johnny can, but he can play deadpan to anyone's asshole.

He's pretty sure the vampire isn't actually Dresden's boyfriend. It would be like Dresden to be that stupid-- that's a given. But the pieces don't fit right; there's something else there.

And seriously, Dresden. Doesn't the guy have a copy of the Accords? He was the first voice on Marcone's entrance: he has to know what Chicago is now, the rules governing everything that happens within its limits.

But he's not opening that can of explosives. Takes a bite of bao instead, and after a second holds out the box. Why the hell not.

[Harry makes a sound like someone stepped on his foot and looks like he's staring down a barrel of a gun. Or, well, like someone else staring down the barrel of a gun. Takes more than that to scare him.

He keeps forgetting the Thomas thing doesn't exist in a vacuum and that people might actually hear about it and get the wrong idea. Or the right idea, since this is what they're going for. He wasn't happy to hear the Outfit was apparently aware of their faux-relationship though.

Clearly unsure what to say, he mutters,] Uh, no. We don't. [And that's all he has to say on the topic.

So the dumpling offer seems to him half like an out and half like an olive branch. Either way, he'll take it. He picks one at random and takes a bite and is surprised when it doesn't have a savory center, but something sweet and chocolatey.] Whoa, what the hell is that? [It's delicious.]

"Wow Bao." He eyes Dresden's. "Chocolate filled. From the one on Jackson. ...I've got bbq pork and teriyaki chicken too, if you'd rather?"

He pops the rest of his coconut custard one in his mouth, gestures with the box. "Offer's going. My break's over."

Which means he's going too, in a minute.

And he'll have to let Marcone know the trade he made in his name, even if he never spoke it to the sylph. And probably have to ignore images of kites, innocent whistled renditions of 'Let's Go Fly A Kite', and the worst puns imaginable for the rest of the week. Because that's just what his life is like.

[That sounds... really good, but Harry is sure it's a bad idea. Taking anything from Cujo is like taking something from Marcone, and that never ends well. He looks at the bao he's taken a bite out of and tucks it into his palm. He'll finish it later.] Let it go, then. I'm fine. [He can pay for his own food. He'll pick up something on his way back to the office.]

Well, it's been real. Tell Johnny I said hi. Don't go kicking any supernatural beehives in my city.

And is the only one other than Harry who can keep track of his jobs.

bigraudr - 2011-05-30 02:00 (UTC) - Expand

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Account name:	Log in with OpenID?
Password:	Forget your password?
	Remember me

Dressing Room

They try to call Animal Control and Harry comes out to yell at them for trying to take his dog.

He's lived here as long as they have! What do they mean they don't believe him!

GDI now I really want this AU. It'd be so cute and domestic.

haha, ditto. G, H, J logically conclude that H must have a drug lab down there?

until they get to know him and realize there aren't drugs in existence that make a man that weird.

Trying to figure out what he does becomes an ongoing gag through the next 4 seasons?

no subject

no subject

... maybe a different job every week? "Aren't you a baker?" "No, I'm a violinist now." "Oh."

He knows a bit of everything &someone who does whatever odd job needed, bc of all the jobs he's had?

He can do it all, unless it involves computers. Yet he still barely makes rent, the poor thing.

And somehow manages to keep up his giant dog and cat. And show up at the strangest times.

For a while, John and Gard are convinced he's a contracted spy of some kind. A very unsubtle one.

It's a very cunning plan, they're sure.

And Hendricks is like "lol, you guys" and is the only sane one in the building.

He and Harry become midnight ice cream buddies?

So long as Hendricks is bringing the ice cream, yes.

He can manage that. He needs someone other than J & G to talk to. Not good when HD's sane company.

In every AU, Hendricks is doomed to being the only sane person.

(Alternate) Universal truth: he's probably the only sane one in the canon as well.

IDK, Kincaid is sane-ish. Just a massive troll.

But Kincaid is an occasional character & would probably develop his nervous ticks given screen time?

And there is the matter of the Teddy Glock... Sane!Kincaid comment withdrawn.

He & Ivy can be the wacky neighbours the next house over. Ivy the know-it-all kid. Literally.

She can help Hendricks with his homework, it'd be great.

And is the only one other than Harry who can keep track of his jobs.