feigns | ► two → video/action。

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► two → video/action。

[When the video first clicks on, all that's visible is Will's face and the top of his shoulders. The feed shifts slightly, and from the angle it's being held at, it would be reasonable to assume he's led down, and even more reasonable -- from the slight squint and the admittedly somewhat dirty red bricks visible in one corner of the screen -- to think that he's outside and on a wall. After a moment, he appears satisfied that the device is, in fact, turned on, and places it somewhat clumsily behind his head, slightly further along the wall.]

I assume if this were normal, it would have been mentioned somewhere in between the rampaging wooden animals and the impromptu, temporary marriages ― perhaps just after cats, but before the clones. I shan't complain, though I feel as if I ought to be speaking of― [he pauses for a moment, waving a hand vaguely and briefly adopting something approaching a passable West Country accent] ―thic faraway lands, visited only by a daring, and arguably foolish, few on gurt maggoty ships.

[He sits up suddenly, and turns round to study his device; he looks cheerful, albeit slightly grubby and fairly nonplussed by the situation as a whole, although it soon fades into poorly concealed irritation.]

Perhaps Bristol's only up the road, or Teignmouth to the west and Torquay just below that. I suppose we shan't ever know; in a few hours more, we'll be somewhere and somewhen else entirely, taking part in a wholly ridiculous scavenger hunt. Why would it be as simple as playing along in what amounts to a bastardised children's game?

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[The audio shuts off for a few seconds but not before she grits out her spell in vicious Latin. And then she's back, and it sounds like Ginny is on the move.]

It's always the colour of my sodding hair.

[The sound of Will laughing is audible for several moments, and when he speaks, he sounds marginally impressed.]

You could always wear a hat.

And be mistaken as a bloke and dragged onto one of those maggoty ships? I don't think so.

[A pause and she ducks into an alley, peering around the corner of it and hoping no one starts crying witch or something. You never know.]

Probably easier to just turn it brown for the day.

You can do that?

[Wait. Shite. Did she ever mention being a witch? She knows she's implied magic, but.]

Er, yeah. It's simple, really.

I doubt whether most people would describe it as simple.

I'm a girl. Things like this are simple.

[Pause. I'm also a witch, she thinks. It makes it even simpler. But she doesn't say it, because she's so used to keeping that part of herself quiet, and she's always wondering if it'll turn people away from her. Especially since last summer.

And then she finds herself wondering why she cares whether it drives this particular someone away or not.

But for whatever reasons, she holds her tongue. For now.]

Edited 2011-06-16 12:41 (UTC)

If you insist.

[His tone is full of scepticism, and it's clear he doesn't believe her, but equally, he's not going to press the issue. It's none of his concern, after all.]

I do.

[Almost everyone she knows is the sort to keep at something until they get their answers. As much as Will irritates her, his choice to leave it relieves her and she's almost grateful.]

So. You're not going on the deities' little treasure hunt?

[For his part, he's simply glad that she appears to have forgotten about the question it had sounded as if she'd been about to ask before she was so rudely interrupted.]

No. There's no reason for me to trust them, or even to believe that their claims are remotely near the truth.

There's always a catch. I've never made a deity trade but I've heard enough to let this wish thing pass me by.

[She hasn't forgotten, not really. But it didn't seem too important to her and it's a question that might come up again, if only because he's actually been to her part of England and she's always interested in that.]

Not that I don't want to go home. Just not like this.

It seems like common sense.

You have that?

Occasionally, when the stars align and the tide's right.

If you say so, Professor Trelawney.

[Still walking, walking, walking.]

And I've seen enough of the tide for one day, thank you.

I do say so, Miss Weasley.

I shouldn't imagine it'd be that interesting to you, anyway, as you live in Devon.

Actually, I was sort of further inland. I hadn't really seen the ocean until the City, though my eldest brother and his wife apparently have a cottage on the coast of Cornwall.

Hence the chickens, I suppose.

Loads of chickens.

[And she seems to have come up along a wall, which... oh, Merlin, it looks like the one in the video. Ginny stops walking, frowning as she scans the area.]

D'you have anything against them?

[Whilst Will is just continuing to do nothing much except laze around on it, really.]

They're more trustworthy than ducks, even if that's due only to their subpar intelligence.

Sounds like there's a story behind that.

[This as she still looks around, and–oh, Godric, there he is. Well. It would be rude not to introduce herself, though their last conversation didn't exactly end on an amicable note. So she tucks her device into her belt and wanders over to him; she's all breeches, boots, and full-sleeved billowing shirt. Hence being mistaken as a bloke had she worn a hat to cover up that mane of copper hair of hers.

Ginny sighs under her breath and approaches him, one brow quirked.]

Don't tell me William Herondale got his arse handed to him by a duck.

[He'd been about to reply, but the sound of approaching footsteps distract him, and he turns his attention to the noise. Whilst Ginny isn't instantly recognisable, both her voice and comment give her away, and he shoots her a grin.]

There are ducks at Hyde Park. I convinced a friend to feed them poultry pies in an effort to breed an army of cannibal ducks. [He pauses, more emphasis than anything else.] They ate the pies, you know.

[To be fair, most people might not recognise her since her clothes are slightly too big and sort of... swallow her slim frame. Not meant for girls, clearly. Not that this is anything new, she gets hand-me-downs from her brothers occasionally. Ginny flicks her hair over her shoulders and crosses her arms, a slightly amused grin tugging at her lips.]

So did you get your army of cannibal ducks? And why in Godric's name did you want one in the first place?

[He leans back, stretching his legs out in front of him and inhaling audibly before sighing melodramatically.]

Alas, not. They followed us for a while, hoping, I believe, that we'd be able to provide them with never-ending supplies of pies made of their brothers and sisters instead of week-old stale bread, before eventually giving up and waddling off to bother some other poor, unsuspecting soul. Fortunately, they're not quite as vicious as pigeons, nor as determined. I'm fairly certain that if I truly wanted an army of birds, pigeons would be the better option.

[He stops, regarding her briefly.]

I was bored and it seemed like an appropriate way to pass the time.

Owls would be the best option, they're more loyal than a pigeon could ever be. But I reckon I'm biased. Maybe if Sir Weatherby was a bit less nocturnal, I'd have him on my shoulder now to complete the look. But he'd be offended, I think.

[Ginny shakes her head with a brief flash of a smile, bright against the beginnings of a sunburn and her thousand freckles, and she leaps lightly onto the wall and crosses her legs to get comfortable.]

And you. [She glances over at him, head cocked.] You've a funny concept of appropriate ways to pass time.

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