August Adventures: A Catch-All Post.

[constantprisoner]

[A - Injury]

He'd panicked.

It was the only logical thing to do at the time. He'd gotten lax and cocky, going so far as to try to read a discarded newspaper at a public bench and someone had recognized him. And alerted the police. Considering how fast they were on him, Sirius still considered it a miracle he had gotten away. He hadn't even had the opportunity to shift into his faster form.

He'd launched himself into the first back alley he saw, hoping for a moment where he could undress and shift but that wasn't likely. His pursuers were determined, he'd give them that but Sirius's desire not to return to prison spurred him on and eventually he lost them. But not before he'd had to jump a fence and land funny on his leg. He'd sat in the alley for a long time, breathing hard and waiting for the police to catch up. But they didn't and finally he could breathe.

But not for long. The moment Sirius stood up, he knew he had a problem as pain shot up his leg. He'd definitely done something to some part of it. Assuming it was just a twisted ankle, Sirius had limped off to find somewhere a little closed off where he could rest.

That had been a weekend ago, and things still hurt. Sirius knew he would have to do something about it.

[B - Safehouse]

The events at the beginning of August served only to remind Sirius that he was in a pretty vulnerable position. He needed somewhere a little safer than the back alleys of London if he was going to get anywhere. He needed a safehouse of some sort. It didn't have to be big or particularly comfortable, but somewhere that he could stay if he needed to keep out of sight for a while, or at least rest for a couple hours without worry.

Not entirely sure how this place was going to manifest and assuming that he would know it when he saw it, Sirius wandered the streets of London, looking for something that might just work or just inspiration.

The fact that he's currently a large black dog certainly won't draw any attention now would it?

[C - Hillingdon]

It's been a long time since Sirius has been here.

Even though it's been a long time, the streets still seem familiar to him, as if he never left. He's not sure why he was reluctant to come back. Perhaps the presence of his family or just the fact that he let his connections to the Hillingdon Clan slide. He'd never sat well with the insular nature of things.

However, things had changed and Sirius had to see if his name still had any sort of weight around here. Surviving on his own was only going to get more difficult, especially since he was finding it very difficult to lay low. If he could just find someone he knew from the old days, convince them, maybe he might have a chance. It was a slim one and he was prepared to bolt the moment things went south.

But for now he had to try.

[D - Wildcard]

Feel free to set up something completely different.

Comments

[ INJURY - and sirius noooo ; ; ]

[warmheartedly]

"Sirius?" Oh, the things (or, in this case, the people) she comes across when she pops out from behind the coffee shop to take her early morning walk.

Looking around to make sure no one is around, the early hour letting her know that it would be at least another hour or less before someone came passing by, Clara moves closer to him with alarm and fear written all over her face. It looks like there'll be a change of plans with the appearance of her friend here outside, looking like he needed a helping hand or dozen.

"Wh-What happened?" She had heard the gossip with some of the customers there, someone spotting a notorious criminal on the loose. They made no mentions of him limping or being hurt. It makes her wonder with anxiety what else wasn't said. "What's wrong? What do you need?"

[constantprisoner]

"I'm fine, it's just my leg," Sirius replies. If he looks a little disheveled that's more from travelling and the occasional stumble. And probably a lack of sleep.

"Someone noticed me so I had to run. Misjudged a jump and landed on my ankle a bit funny. I just thought it was twisted, but it might be a bit worse."

There's a part of him that wishes he could lean on her, but that probably wouldn't go well. But he's held himself up for this long, so a little longer shouldn't be too bad, right?

[warmheartedly]

"I hate to think how it could be worse for you," she says back, trying to recall how one takes care of a twisted ankle. There were perks to having to deal with rowdy boys as they grew up. Tending to injuries is one of them.

Looking around one last time to make sure there's no one else around, she nods and makes her final decision: "We'll get that patched up. Give me a second, okay? Rest here and I'll-- I'll go into the coffee shop, make the cameras stop working for a bit and open the back for you. There's a first aid kit there. I can help you make a temporary splint."

Only temporary. It's better than nothing, she supposes. What they need to do the most is get him inside so he can hide better for a bit and get a breather.

[constantprisoner]

"So do I," Sirius replies, figuring it could have been a lot worse. He's just glad he's not bleeding or anything like that.

There's a part of him that wants to say that he can manage, that he'll just hobble along until he can find a place to hide and rest up and not cause any trouble. That is how he got into this mess after all.

But a splint would help and it's better than using materials he could find in a back alley. He leans against the wall of the building, trying to take some of the weight off of his leg.

"How many do I owe you now?" he asks.

[warmheartedly]

It takes a few minutes and a few seconds of worrying sounds of machinery breaking down inside the coffee shop but the door swings open and Clara returns to sight.

Just in time for her to hear what he says to her. It causes her to look at him in disapproval before shaking her head.

"You owe me nothing," she assures him. There's no way she'll leverage a debt or a favour to anyone if she can. "Come in! Come in! It's so chilly the morning. Let's warm you up and get that checked on. I think I remember how you do this. Thank goodness I hid my ghost gloves earlier."

[constantprisoner]

Even if she says that, Sirius still feels indebted to her, and hopes he can offer something for that. After all, she's done a lot for him.

He makes his way into the shop, trying not to put any weight on his injured leg, though it's difficult. Finally he slumps into a chair.

"Sorry, your what?"

[warmheartedly]

The answer is obvious when she returns holding the first aid kit and an ice pack as she sports a pair of bright yellow gardening gloves.

"Ghost gloves! Er. That's what I call them though I'm sure they have a more meaningful name," she answers him as she opens the first aid kit when she's next to him. "They let me touch things more easily. It gets itchy after a while but it's an acceptable payoff."

The bandages, the splints, an ice pack. Okay. She thinks she had every thing. "How did they notice you? I thought you were hiding."

A

[necromancynow]

Faust heard the footsteps before he actually saw anyone, but that was more than enough for someone who'd been practicing for years -- especially in his particular specialty. He walked (stalked?) carefully along a wall of brick, voice quiet.

"It sounds as though you have a little problem."

[constantprisoner]

Sirius's attention had been between the pain in his leg and keeping himself moving, so hearing a quiet voice caused him to jump rather violently. He'd probably bolt like a scared rabbit if he could.

Instead, he tries to focus.

"Sorry? You scared me there."

[necromancynow]

"Did I? My apologies." Faust moved toward the direction of Sirius's voice. "I remember you. The man on the sidewalk. I was holding my groceries. What seems to be the trouble?"

Well, he asked what the trouble is, but in reality, he already had a pretty good idea."

[constantprisoner]

It takes Sirius a moment to remember before the spark of recognition appears.

"Oh! Dr..Faust right?"

The little voice in the back of Sirius's head that sounds like Remus is telling him this isn't the greatest idea he's ever had. But Sirius didn't have the best track record of listening to Remus, and the voice was being drowned out by the pain in his leg.

"Nothing much, just twisted my ankle a bit. I think. Landed on it funny."

[necromancynow]

"That's right," said Faust, smiling. "And you're Sirius, yes? I hope you're not planning on walking far with an ankle like that. You should get it on ice as soon as you can. Or, if you'd like, I could take a look at it...?"

Of course, sprained ankles weren't his specialty -- at least not any more. But he was a doctor.

[constantprisoner]

"I can't really say that what I have been doing is walking," Sirius is forced to admit. More like hobbling and limping.

"Nor have I really had a chance to get ice anywhere." Since he was avoiding being noticed and you don't generally find one in a trash bin.

"I guess if you don't mind taking a look?"

HILLINGDON

[reticence]

Faolan has been with Hillingdon for a number of years now. While not exactly the full decade that he's been hunting, it's been a large part of his home here in London. And while he may not really have that many ties with those in the clan itself, being a member, having access to its information and resources, sometimes they were the only thing that Faolan could claim he had backing him up. He's not certain whether that would be at least a glimmer of hope in what were some pretty dark times for him, or whether it was just sad, all things considered.

He's been making more of an effort to try and get out and about himself lately, though. Since being accepted as a Night Guardian, nominated by the Hillingdon clan as their man on the inside, he figures he should at least make an attempt. Ironic, that he should have been nominated, considering some of the clan's opinions on the Council itself, but he supposes that's neither here nor there. He can't claim that he's a man of honor or justice, but certainly compared to others about the place, he's the right man to uphold the peace. If only that were truly what he's assigned to do.

A lot of things have been weighing on his mind, since being sworn in. Particularly the part about how he's not supposed to tell anyone about his oath, lest he turn to stone. He's going to need a drink to get the image of those people-turned-statues out of his head. Hell, he's going to need several. Which is why he finds himself raiding Hillingdon's small yet not insubstantial liquor supply and sinking down into one of the decorative but not all that comfortable armchairs in the parlor...

((ooc: let me know if i need to change this at all? :x i kind of just went with it -- i'd really love to thread with sirius though!))

[constantprisoner]

[ooc: it works for me.]

The house hasn't changed a bit it seems. Or at least, it looks the same on the outside as Sirius remembers. He's still a little wary of entering though. After all, he'd started drifting away from the Clan well before his incarceration. While he'd never formally cut ties with them, there was still enough distance that Sirius wasn't sure if he was formally considered a member anymore. Of course the only way to find out was to ask, so there was no point in loitering anymore.

There was a time when he would have burst through the front door without a second thought, acting like he owned the place. If he wasn't a wanted man, he probably still would burst through the door at least. His hesitation bothered him more than he cared to admit. He wasn't a coward and there was no excuse for starting to act like one now.

So he knocked on the door. Pounded rather, in the hopes that someone would hear him.

my apologies for the delay, the work week is killer :x

[reticence]

Faolan raises an eyebrow at the pounding. Who could be knocking, at such an hour, he thinks to himself. And why don't they just come in, for that matter. He sets his glass down and makes his way to the front of the house, checking that he's armed and that it's loaded, the gun held loosely in one hand just in case there should be trouble.

As he peers through the peep hole however, he doesn't see signs of anything of the sort. Just a slightly disheveled looking man, who seems rather intent on being let inside. Faolan puts up his gun in its holster and cracks the door open to speak to him.

"Can I help you?" he asks, raising an eyebrow slightly at the newcomer as he does.

No worries

[constantprisoner]

Sirius probably could have thought this through a little more. He'd mostly been focused on getting to the house, but having to deal with someone hadn't completely entered into the equation. Considering he'd been gone for so long, he didn't know who still knew him, or of him at least (in a favorable light).

"As a matter of fact, yes," Sirius replies. "I guess you could say I'm here to renew my membership."

No other choice but to dive right in really.

[reticence]

Faolan's eyebrows stay raised. "At this hour?" he asks. But he supposes that it's not really that late, all things considered. It's just not the time of day that he would expect people to just randomly appear for purposes such as this, is all.

He takes the other man in for a long moment, before stepping aside and opening the door for him. So that might be a poor decision on his part, in retrospect, but he's armed and as far as he can tell the man who's just approached Hillingdon House isn't. Besides, he looks a little rough around the edges, as though he hasn't been eating or sleeping or treating himself very well, of late. Or as if he's just started, after a long while of not doing so.

"Renew, you say?" Faolan asks. He hasn't seen this man around, and he's been there for around a decade or so. True, he's not been the most social of all of them, so it's possible he might have missed him. But he doesn't think so, at least.

[constantprisoner]

"Better late than never," Sirius said, stepping into the house with a nod of thanks. It looked familiar, though it had been a long time since he'd actually been inside. After running away he'd stuck around for a bit but eventually drifted away. It was easier than ignoring his family.

"I was something of a member a number of years ago. Kind of let that go for a bit when I had to go abroad suddenly."

Safehouse

[divinerighttorule]

Azula is always mindful of her surroundings. The feel of a shapeshifter nearby draws her attention, and she thinks she recognizes the dog. An interesting turn of events, seeing him again. In a matter of moments, she's fallen into step with the dog, as if it's walking with her, just unleashed. It looks a little less conspicuous.

"Now, now," she murmurs under her breath, her lips twisted into a smirk, "what might you be up to?"

[constantprisoner]

There was a time when Sirius loved attracting attention. And in a way, he still does but not when he's trying to be inconspicuous. Still, he nods in recognition before managing a shrug as if to say "just walking around."

It's a bit hard to explain his intentions in this form, and something tells him that the less people know, the better.

[divinerighttorule]

"Any luck in finding a place yet?"

She can guess the answer there. The question remains: what is it worth to him? She has quite a list of things she wants. Many of them are quite common, and that's what she intends to make the most use of.

[constantprisoner]

Sirius gives his head a shake, answering the question in the negative. It's followed by a look that seems to say "That obvious, huh?".

He hates to admit it, but he's been considering the fae's offer. Between the events earlier this month and the knowledge that the weather's going to change, he needs something to keep himself safe.

[divinerighttorule]

"Get me a piece of iron or silver every week -- at least as large as a Euro coin -- for two months, and I'll find you a safe, comfortable place."

She already had her price in mind. She'd settled in since they'd last spoken. After all, she'd need a great amount for what she needed. The more sources she had, the better.

[constantprisoner]

Sirius pauses to consider that offer. Iron or silver shouldn't be too difficult to collect, and if he gets somewhere safe out of it, it works out for him. As far as trading favors went, things probably could have been a lot worse.

He scoots off to a back alley where he had last hidden his clothes, changing into his human form so that he would have a better way of negotiating.

"And that's all I have to do? Just silver or iron...things?"