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Post by Levyne Cloud on Nov 7, 2011 23:23:31 GMT -5
"Not again," Levyne muttered as he kicked the base of the toilet. He was forever having issues with it- he blamed the weak plumbing, the elves who helped him unplug the toilet once in awhile blamed Levyne's bad habit of accidentally flushing random objects. Either way he was staring at a broken toilet at three AM and he needed to do some serious business.
What options did he have? Well, his room was right next to Draven Whittimores. He might be a total drag but he couldn't be heartless. After all, they all had bladders. Compassion, right?
He threw on a robe over his boxers (which was the only thing he had on) and headed out the door. Turning abruptly right the lean professor delivered three short knocks, before saying in a needy yet quiet tone,
"My loo isn't working, Draven, can I use yours? I'll give you a chocolate frog or something if you just open up." He knocked on the door again. "Pleeeeeeeeeeeeaaassssseeeee."
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Post by Draven Whittimore on Nov 8, 2011 2:17:58 GMT -5
A rumble and grumble rouses from the stocky man as he lifts his head from the grand mass of pillows at the head of his bed. There's a familiar, unruly murmur beyond the door that, with the irritating plea at the end of it, gives him a good clue to who it is.
Draaaven, this. Draaaaven, that. What's got the bloke's cotton socks in a twist tonight? He doesn't want to know, he hardly cares - but being a righteous individual no less, he stands from his bedding with a stagger and whisps his night robe around him to keep the chill of the cold from biting any deeper.
Shuffling along the floor to the door, he peels the wood from the wall with a dazed stare at Levyne, seeming to barely comprehend his statement. Something about chocolate frogs?
"I don' 'ave any," he mumbles, before he does a double take and squints against both Levyne and the light of the corridor. "Eh? What? The loo? What'd you do this time, drown your bloody cat down the damn thing?"
Seeming more awake and rightfully grumpy, he drags his feet back to bed with the door open and collapses into the mess of sheets. His bedrooms is otherwise well organized as he faceplants into his pillows and waves at Levyne moodily.
"Jus' don't muck it up."
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Post by Levyne Cloud on Nov 8, 2011 18:14:40 GMT -5
Levyne rushed in the room and pushed past Draven dramatically, flinging himself in the direction of Draven's facilities. He slammed the door.
Clank. Shifffffffff. "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh." relief.
He looked around Draven's bathroom, noticing a few bottles here and there...the usual. He finished his business, and then put his hands on his hips as he stared at one of the bottles. "This is nice shampoo," he muttered, flipping it around to read the back, lifting it upwards. He remembered he forgot to flush the toilet, so he walked over to hit the handle...
Plup.
"Oh, *EXPLICATIVE*!" He said loudly, watching the shampoo bottle sink to the bottom of the toilet, surrounded by his processed tea. The professor stared at the bottom of the bowl with his face blank for a moment, and then he had an idea. He promptly thought: just grab it with something else!
He looked around the room, and spotted Draven's toothbrush. Would it matter? "Well, I'll just use the handle end and then rinse it under hot water..." He grabbed it and started fishing.
"Dangit! Dangit!" He repeated rhythmically as he chased the bottle around the toilet. It floated about with no intention of evacuation. Growing frustrated and his hand growing ticklish from the brush end of the toothbrush rubbing on his palm, he flexed his fingers and lost grip on the toothbrush.
"Oh you son of a..." He muttered angrily, and then reached over to the toilet paper roll, unraveling it and bringing it over to the toilet to grab the articles out before Draven wondered what the commotion was about. At the precise moment he leaned on the back of the toilet to get his balance as he reached in, he triggered the toilet handle and with one fatal press, the process began. The toothbrush twirled around and the bottle started dancing, and the toilet paper roll unraveled even more as it flushed a number of cloth squares.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH NO! NO, DON'T GO DOWN THE HOLE!"
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Post by Professor Kholling on Nov 9, 2011 1:01:55 GMT -5
"Oh for the love of..."
Sleep was a precious commodity he rarely got to enjoy. Each night was a wrestling match between his mind and body, both unwilling to yield to the other for the sake of true, unblemished rest. He sorely yearned for those "necessary" eight hours when usually all he got was around three or four. Those bags under his eyes weren't a fashion statement.
His silk bedsheets were amazingly soft and warm. Getting out of them took absolutely no effort since he wasn't in bed to begin with. In fact, he'd been in his sitting room, staring blankly into a fire. A charms book lay open in his lap, its pages marked and covered in his small, neat hand. Embarrassing as it was for him to admit, he was a wizard with many weaknesses. It was a blessing that his true calling was strong enough to fend off any ill-willed strangers.
While he might not have been sleeping, he did not appreciate the muffled thumping and thudding coming through his wall. Thin brows wriggled between irritation and exasperation. His fire crackled pleasantly and there was a soothing aroma coming from the log selection the house elves had brought him. When silence fell, he prayed for relief. When praying failed him, Terrance growled a threat under his breath and rose from his cushy seat.
Black robe loosely tied over his cotton pajama pants, glass of scotch in hand, Terrance stood in front of Draven's door. For some reason, it was already ajar. The voice he could hear from somewhere within the rooms wasn't that of the mysterious Transfigurations professor. That individual was sprawled out face-down on his bed, disheveled and half buried in a mound of pillows. Terrance bit back a harsh grunt: Draven looked like he felt and there was no two ways about it. "Who... the devil... is in your toilet?" Terrance requested of the older gent, tempted to prop himself on the doorjamb.
Feeling moody and uninhibited - an odd pairing for the part-vampire - he moved inside instead. Taking up residence at an armchair similar to his own, he crossed ankle over knee and leveled a surly stare at Draven's bathroom chamber door. "...Is he attempting suicide? I don't fancy being followed around by a ghost with his sort of vocabulary..."
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Post by Draven Whittimore on Nov 9, 2011 2:04:36 GMT -5
Draven considers, honestly, the idea of investigating. Really, he does - but if there's something he doesn't want to see tonight, it's Levyne's bare arse wiggling around his own restroom while he tries to... well, do what ever he's doing in there. From his face-down position in the bed, he is almost certain that if Levyne continues with his screaming and cursing that it may just lull him to sleep.
That's a pleasant thought: the sound of peace, really. Screaming, and then silence. Ahhhh...
Nope, spoke too soon. A voice speaks up from behind him, but at least it sounds as disgruntled at Draven presently is. Staring over his shoulder finally at the room's new occupant, Draven's foot twitches at the sight of Terrance before he breaks into a dramatic yawn and flops his head back down against a pillow.
"Who do you fancy it might be, vamp? Really," he says, before the corner of the left side of his mouth lifts into a quirky little smile. "Professor Cloud, of course. Always. Naturally."
His voice detours off into a tired hum as he rolls onto his back and then slides off the bed. With his night robe still firmly tucked around his being, he stuffs his feet back into his slippers and shuffles to the door of the loo. He'll deal with this in the morning - or, the house elves will. Rapping on the door animatedly, he sighs through his nose some before tilting his head back and practically yawning out his woes.
"Leave it, bloody hell, Levyne, just get the hell out already," he chirps, kicking the door a few times for good measure. "I don't care what you've done, just get out."
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Post by Levyne Cloud on Nov 9, 2011 23:29:21 GMT -5
"What do you mean? Ah, um," his hands flexed involuntarily as his anxiety rose, "N-nothing is wrong in here- give me a few minutes."
He instinctively reached to his side to get his wand out of his pocket but found his hand falling on nice, 100% cotton boxers. "Bloody hell," he cursed as he looked up at the bowl. Without a second thought he reached in and grabbed the shampoo and toothbrush, and held them above the toilet as it dripped. Getting off his knees, he rushed over to the tub and yanked on the handle, then turned on the shower. "Uh, one minute," he called, "I can't here you over the sink." Grabbing a bar of soap he lathered it all over his hands, and then the bottle and brush. In the process, he slipped on the bath mat and fell face forward into the tub, hitting his head and causing a sizable bump to appear. His boxers and robe slowly absorbed the water as he reached frantically for the lever. With one yank, he let out a breath and then put the bottle dripping wet on the side of the tub, and got out with a slush.
He put the tooth brush back in its holder by the sink. Then Professor Cloud walked to the door and opened it, still drenched. Face to face with Draven, he looked at him with an awkward gaze before he said,
"I took a quick shower too, mine is broken. Bad pipe. Thanks. I should be going now. It's a bit cold." With one finger he reached up and rubbed the water from his eyelashes, and then he put his soggy robed arm back to his side. Slush.
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Post by Professor Kholling on Nov 10, 2011 1:53:27 GMT -5
Terrance shot a dubious stare at Draven's bathroom door. There was a lot of noise coming from in there and none of it sounded remotely like a toilet flushing.
"With as much sense as a cloud, apparently..." Terrance muttered, pointedly ignoring how Draven had addressed him. His gaze was drawn back to the wizard lounging on the four postered bed. Even with his head stuck in a pillow Draven's hair looked a wreck. "I should have known. No wonder I could hear him straight through the wall..." He replied, sighing heavily and sinking deeper into the seat's cushion.
Taking a healthy sip from his glass, he played silent witness to the door's abuse as its owner amplified the ruckus. "I'd leave it, Whittimore." The vamp drawled quietly, recrossing his legs. Dark brows sunk into a frown, his hair scattered over his forehead in a silky mess. Since he hadn't tried sleeping yet, he failed to have that "bed-head" look Draven was pulling off with much aplomb. "He'll come out when he's finished destroying the wallpaper."
His guess couldn't be far off considering that the shower had turned on for some reason. His foot swung to and fro where it lay suspended in the air over his knee. "Want me to hex him? I've this new one I haven't tried yet..." Terrance inquired slyly, a wicked gleam deep in his shadowed gaze. Maybe it was the late hour or the drink, but he seemed entirely serious and a dash hopeful. His plotting came to an abrupt end when Levyne suddenly opened the bathroom door. Terrance stifled a laugh of surprise; he'd never seen a person resemble a wet cat before until then.
"Did a gargoyle come out of the faucet too?" He asked, more to himself. Bitterness on the end of his tongue, he glanced at the puddle collecting under Levyne's feet. Letting out a disgruntled noise, he drew his wand from his pocket. "Stay still or I'm liable to burn your leg hair off too..." With that, his wand swished through the air and a silent Drought Charm was cast. Blue light burst at Levyne's feet: moments later, the water evaporated. To Terrance's smug satisfaction, he'd somehow dried the professor too. Except now his hair was standing up like he'd been using a muggle dryer. "There, less work for the house elves."
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Post by Draven Whittimore on Nov 11, 2011 3:47:26 GMT -5
Terrance's hexing suggestion is seeming like an excellent idea to Draven at this point, particularly when Levyne reveals himself in such a state that Draven has to withdraw a long breath to prevent him performing some unHoly act on the man himself.
A quick shower indeed. Levyne looks more like he's rolled out of a sewer, and while he attempts to shuffle past, Draven peeps into his lavatory for good measure. There's a couple things missing and it makes him peer out at Levyne again suspiciously. Fortunately, Levyne is just in the process of being vertically blow-dried by Terrance.
That - oh, that there. That puts Draven straight over the edge, and a delightful laugh purges from him. It's slow, at first, but within a few moments it's escalated to such a level that he's doubled over with a hand on his knee and his eyes squeezed shut. When he's finally able to right himself again, he brushes a stray tear with his index finger before gesturing to the washroom beside him.
"H-h-huuu. You ought to try one o' those in there, mate, it's a bloody swamp," he wheezes, shutting the door. This is clearly going to be a deal-with-it-later thing. Instead he moves forward to investigate Levy's new doo, and he curls his lip in to stifle a snort, standing beside Terry and nodding his approval at his handiwork.
"You could consider becoming a stylist, Terrance. Think of the galleons you'd make in the wizarding fashion world," he coos, shaking his head. Running a hand back through his hair, it doesn't look any less messy afterward as he pops his back and tightens his house coat. Glancing at his clock, he wiggles his eyebrows before tapping his chin in thought. Glancing at Levyne, he sniffs the air experimentally before giving him queer eye.
"Drinking without me? I'm offended." Turning to tug at his dresser, he pulls the top drawer open and sifts through his attire. "Well, up and at 'em anyway. Saturday tomorrow an' all that. I'm headin' to the Hogs Head, get a few drinks in me before I decide to look in the loo again. You're both welcome t' join me."
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Post by Levyne Cloud on Nov 12, 2011 19:14:36 GMT -5
"Ermphf." As he was blown, Levyne didn't look too happy. Even after the blowing was finished, he still looked more than a little violated. With a grimace, he looked at Draven as he made his cocky remarks, and then sorely shook his head and said aloud,
"Ah...count me out. I'm just going to go to my room and get some sleep. Mucking the stalls in the morning, you know." It was all done with spells and was relatively easy work, but he still liked to make it sound like more work than it was so he could spend more time with the animals. He loved his hippogriff Wooley, and if he didn't have at least an hour to take him out he would get very agitated later in the day.
"So, thanks for letting me use your facilities...and thank you Terrance for the lovely blow, but I'm going to go crawl back in my sheets. Alone."
He turned and started heading for the door, with his back to the other two.
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Post by Professor Kholling on Nov 13, 2011 23:51:27 GMT -5
Weary, surprised eyes rounded on Draven. His bold laughter was infectious and rolling, echoing faintly in the dim interior of the man's bedroom. Terrance's mouth jerked, once, at the ends. He couldn't convince a smile to last, though, and thus he reverted to watching Draven's amusement in silence. In all honesty, he'd never seen anyone double over with anything but pain before. The scenario seemed all the same, except he could hear the professor's exuberant chuckles.
"I would, but I fear I might over do it. It'd do no good if your hairbrush catches fire." He countered with outright honesty. His charm work was shabby and second rate, at best. Despite years of practice, he couldn't manage charm spells as he did curses or jinxes. Thus most of his practical day to day work was done the old-fashioned way. By hand, like washing dishes. "My apologies, Levyne. My control is... not the best." Terrance shrugged where he sat, bunching his robes around his elbows.
The comment from Draven drew a soft snort from the vampire. Gray-blue orbs shifted tiredly, focusing on the room's owner. The Transfiguration professor appeared humorous and thoughtful. At the mention of alcohol, Terrance lifted his glass in a silent salute. "Thousands of galleons, but not a knut to speak of. I have a stylist if need one, Levyne. Ah, and it's brandy. Better than warm milk, yes?"
Levyne passed by, apparently opting to exclude himself from the invitation. Deciding he'd end up sleeping in Draven's chair if he sat any longer, Terrance languidly rose. Shirtless, he pulled the robes lapels tighter. "...any time. Enjoy your solitude." Right, being French meant his English was a tad awkward at times. This go around, solitude could mean "sleep" or it could mean "hermit hours." Either way, he waved with his left forefingers as the man left.
Letting out a slow, long sigh, Terrance glanced at his wristwatch. A device he'd had for over five years, without fail. "...If I haven't fallen to sleep now, it won't happen for hours more. I'll meet you in the hall." Terrance decided, moving to follow Levyne's exit strategy. Once in his room, he tossed off his robe, not bothering with the door. At his dresser, he tugged out a black wool sweater and gray slacks. With those covering his skin, he collected a blue scarf and a long black coat to pull over all of it. Adding some currency to his pockets, he grabbed his wand and returned to the hallway to wait for Draven.
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