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Post by charlton 'raffi' glashtyn on Jul 19, 2013 10:25:05 GMT -5
Boxes littered the kitchen floor, their cardboard exterior splattered in labels that illustrated their journey from Ireland. They were joined by a few battered trunks here and there, also daubed with similar post markings. Charlton stood in the door way, hands on hips as he bemusedly surveyed the sudden loss of space on the kitchen floor. He instantly knew it was a kind, yet firm message from his sister Gabrielle back home. She knew him all too well, knew that Charlton would leave stuff home to make sure he had every option covered. Admittedly, that wasn’t his game plan anymore. Charlton was making a serious effort to have a job, and a life outside of alcohol and late night parties - so there was no need for a back up plan…or having his options covered, right? Right. Charlton pulled a face at the doubt that laced his thoughts, forcing them from the forefront of his mind.
Now all he had to do was find a place for everything. Which would be easier said than done. Charlton toed one of the boxes with the tip of his heavy black boots and ran a hand through his wayward dark hair, expression dismayed. He didn’t even know where to begin, it was like box city…box city in rush hour. Grumbling to himself good naturedly about privacy, he wandered through the centre of the boxes in the direction of the emerald green parchment scroll that had caught his eye on the counter. It was attached to a bottle of his favourite whiskey, and therefore could not be ignored. The artistic flourish in the handwriting could only be Gabrielle', as he’d suspected. He rolled his eyes at the dramatic use of their family seal to hold the roll of parchment together, breaking it easily and running his eyes over the short message:
“Charlie,
You’ll need this to get through all the boxes.
As Ghandi liked to say: “The future depends on what you do today.”
Go get ‘em.
Gabrielle ♥”
He snorted to himself, tossing the parchment back on the side with a wry smile. Grabbing a tumbler where it sat ready on the side he poured himself a generous helping. Offering a mock toast to his absent sibling he swallowed the liquid, relishing the brief burn as it hit his throat. Well, he best get cracking then.
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Post by Colt Vince Sommer on Jul 19, 2013 23:57:51 GMT -5
Throughout the morning sauntering, Colton let his sight roved aimlessly through the foliage and the verdure encircling him in his wander. Past the obvious notion that he was in need of gallivanting, the man was in a perking stance today, having the undeclared preoccupation that he was up to do something he would normally eschew. In matters of belabouring the Charms professor was insistently debating on what meal should him serve during his, let’s just call it special night. Not so long ago, the tedious man had persuaded a student to sneak out of school fields to his place, in order to enjoy supper. ‘How much of a twat can I be?’ he barked repeatedly to himself, inwardly, just as his steps shortened in speed and in distance, spotting something close to a hut in the midst of nowhere, at the Enchanted Wood’s boundaries.
“Orienting has never been his forte…” his voice out as his brow arched with a slightly lost expression in his face. After a couple of minutes of straying without direction, the man had stumbled upon the place, in no time. “As if, past the grounds keep moving forth was an instruction at all…” the man deemed as he just leapt shortly as he swung the bordering door open and just invited himself in, without announcement or such. Charlton had requested his presence in the colourless task of sorting things out. As a Charms master, Colton couldn’t do anything but out-jutting his hand in an amiable gesture, aiding him with whatever clutter was in need of accommodation.
Standing before the entrance, the man noticed it was wide open, which he assumed would be an entering allowance. “Babe, I’m home…” he called from the doorway, a teasing smile lingering on the corner of his lips by the moment he gazed at Charlton’s bearing. However, it vanished as soon as his eyes were beset by the ghastly image of boxes clogging floor’s surface, as they could barely leave a visible gap. The man gobbled, a pang of remorse stemming in his stomach. “As exaggerated as you are… I believed you would be enhancing magnitude of things… but… I must reluctantly admit that you were right at procrastinating… I’d be mental if I did this solo”
“Hand me a sip of that… we need fuel” he quipped as he rolled his sleeves up, set for working.
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Post by charlton 'raffi' glashtyn on Aug 1, 2013 16:57:35 GMT -5
 The first drink and had gone down a treat, but rather than fuelling Charlton to take on the task with gusto (infact he remained leant against the kitchen side in a decidedly casual pose) it had given him a brain wave instead. Rather than tackling it himself, why not ask for help. It would halve the task at least, and get him out of his own head, which of late had become depressingly morbid and more than a little anti-social…decisively out of character for the happy go lucky Werewolf. Yes, it was a brilliant plan. And who better than his cheerful, cheeky, charms master buddy who certainly would have trick or two up his sleeve. Charlton grinned to himself, snatching a ream of parchment from one of the boxes. In a quick looping scrawl he scratched out his S.O.S message and attached it to the Owl that still remained at the window. It was gone within seconds, a tawny shape that quickly faded to a pin point as it flew out over the palace grounds to seek out help. Turning to the task in hand, he eyed the taped boxes & locked trunks. First things first then…find out the contents and distribute them to relevant room. Tugging his wand out of his back jeans pocket, where it had been unceremoniously stuffed, Charlton flicked it at the closest trunk:
“Alohomora.” He murmured, the trunk lock clicking open. Gabrielle clearly hadn’t charmed it further and was obviously still far more trusting in the Wizarding world than Charlton ever could be. He toed the lid of the trunk back, glancing over the items enough to ascertain that it was simply clothing. Several pairs of boots, all leather, varying styles but in his favoured colour of black. Scattered plain, fitted white t-shirts and crumpled jeans in well worn denim. A few rolled up vests and plaid shirts…nothing fancy in this one. His usual get up. Bedroom then. Tucking his wand back into his jeans pocket, he shut the lid and heaved it up into his arms, making the heavy lifting look easy with his wolf-aided strength.
”Babe, I’m home…”
A wry smile curved Charlton’s mouth as he turned to face the door. He was out of the way living accommodations wise, but Colt had managed to find him within 20 minutes of the Owl having left so not too bad timing. Plus he was only just getting started so perfect arrival time.
“As exaggerated as you are… I believed you would be enhancing magnitude of things… but… I must reluctantly admit that you were right at procrastinating… I’d be mental if I did this solo. Hand me a sip of that… we need fuel”
Charlton laughed, eyebrows shooting up into his curly dark hair. “Exaggerate? Me?” He put the trunk back on the floor and reached for the bottle, pouring out a slug into the waiting tumblers, holding one out to Colt when he was done. ”Can’t thank you enough for coming over mate, I know it was short notice…as you can see I’m in a bit of a fix. Hope you didn’t have too many plans?”
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Post by Colt Vince Sommer on Aug 2, 2013 12:14:03 GMT -5
Orienting himself through the woods didn’t prove a difficult task, though, he would make sure to depict a map with the location, mentally for himself, as he was bound to get lost if he endeavoured on a second journey. Having received the urgent note had made him believed he was in some sort of knot that needed fixing, and who else but the miraculously talented dimwit to solve his issues? Colt’s smile didn’t fade, in spite of fronting havoc, glimpses of chaos spreading all over his vision field, as of clogging his thoughts. This would work as a perfect distraction from the looming deems, regarding the night that was practically ahead him. “Well… you weren’t precisely calm and collected at your handwriting… let alone it, you made it sound as if your house was cracking down… but forgetting that, I tend to misread things quite often” perhaps qualifying him of exaggerated wasn’t accurate, though it was the closest and more befitting adjective he could actually consider to refer to his emergency call.
“Nevertheless… I do see hours of work in here…” he paused for a whit, jutting out his hand as he clutched the threshold slightly before letting himself in. Shunning boxes and trunks in his way, the bloke made no efforts at treading all the way to the kitchen, where Charlton was serving him a gentle portion of whisky of his own. Gazing down at the amber liquid, his squinting became quite obvious from his stance, stretching a hand to fetch the tumbler just as he sipped some of its contents. “Yikes! … scornful as I can recall… this is poison” Colton didn’t relish in alcohol’s flavour, and whenever the bubbling sensation dabbed his tongue, it made him wince inwardly and frown in discontent. “Albeit… this is what rouses bravado on a man… even when it’s such thing as this cinch”
Hearkening at his thanking, the man did nothing but grin widely at him, in plenty awareness that it was not quite the toll which had summoned his presence for, but something else. Colton was accustomed to read through people’s hearts, and even he could overlook some details at once, but mostly, he was right when asserting upon such facts. “Plans? … When you say it like that you made me sound dull… ” quipping, the man stowed the tumbler back on the counter, tugging his vest open as he extracted his wand from the depths. “If so… I’d actually say I could get expelled… promptly” the elegant cryptic way of twisting his words was something his mates had somehow grown used to, as if he would never express his real thoughts in words, but in complex and even redundant riddles. “Let’s just say I’m instructed into a forbidden practise within school walls” Charlton would certainly query on what he was blathering of, and perhaps that could steer his mind away from whatever gloom image he was having.
Colton pointed at some of the boxes and attempted to read through the labels, but all in vain, just as he began to arch his brows flummoxed, he reckoned it was best to ask before acting. “I can enter in full details as we put hands into the job… You have never seemed the reticent kind” chuckling, his lips curled into a dimpled smile, striding forth a few steps squatting down amidst the litter.
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Post by charlton 'raffi' glashtyn on Sept 22, 2013 17:10:04 GMT -5
“Well… you weren’t precisely calm and collected at your handwriting… let alone it, you made it sound as if your house was cracking down… but forgetting that, I tend to misread things quite often”
”I’ll give you that….though my handwriting has a lot to answer for. It always looks panicked…didn’t really master making it look any better than a splattered spider to be honest.” He agreed with Colton easily. He rarely used the Owlery as a form of contact because of it, and only wrote letters when one was required home. Perhaps that was the reason he had lost contact with so many, and why he hadn’t enjoyed class as much as some.
Charlton grimly nodded his acknowledgement to Colton‘s remark on the piles of boxes. Yes, there was a lot of work. Gabrielle was very much a Glashtyn in the respect that subtlety wasn’t a major player in her character make up. She’d literally shipped his life over. He took another swig of the Jameson’s, eyes shooting up to catch Colton’s expression, breaking into a smile at the sight of it.
“Poison? You’re out of practice mate…” He teased lightly, although he was well aware of the fierceness of his favourite liquor. It was an acquired taste, and worryingly for him, it didn’t pack the punch it used to. Setting his glass on the side, Charlton silently reprimanded himself - he must drink less. He was turning into his father, a thought that made him shudder inwardly.
“If so… I’d actually say I could get expelled… promptly. Let’s just say I’m instructed into a forbidden practise within school walls”
Charlton’s interest was piqued instantaneously by the word ‘forbidden’ & ‘expelled‘, he could tell that Colton had known he would be intrigued. It wasn’t usually the topic of conversation once you got a job on the staff of Beauxbatons…or at least to have those words referring to anyone other than a student. He was pleased that Colton had casually stimulated the conversation without too much effort, as if he had known Charlton wasn’t ready to discuss his own life at the moment. It was part of the reason he enjoyed Colt’s company, the guy seemed to have an affinity for being easy to get on with. Sifting casually through one of the boxes nearby, Charlton flicked his glance back to Colton with interest. “Forbidden?” He paused to glance at a dusty family photo. ”What are you getting up to then Colt? God knows I could do with some excitement…even if it is only someone else’s story.”
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Post by Colt Vince Sommer on Oct 13, 2013 5:36:22 GMT -5
”I’ll give you that….though my handwriting has a lot to answer for. It always looks panicked…didn’t really master making it look any better than a splattered spider to be honest.”
“As I see it… ” the man turned his pocket out to reveal the ream of parchment, quite ragged at the edges, “…eccentricity follows each of the splattered spiders on this… ” Colt held the note high for him to inspect – just a cursory look. He nodded to himself as he gazed down at it and just chuckled lightly, “Please mind me not saying, but I’ll work on a self-writing charm for you, then” he mocked, in the most amiable jesting. Scrawling through a paper would not represent a dreadful toll to him, anymore, especially when hand-writing wouldn’t be involved at all.
“Poison? You’re out of practice mate…”
“Alas… not all of us can keep up with your pace, mate…” he laughed quietly, sipping a generous gulp of the liquid, not without frowning and pouting a little after doing so. It was true the bloke was out of practice, and that was due his lack of taste for it, as rendering himself wasted wasn’t something he’d be most inclined to do for an evening treat. “Give me a couple of months and I’ll stop waddling with a few sips… and maybe a new liver, fresh and clean to dedicate myself fully into the craft of passing-out… ” he drawled, almost as if enticed by the effects of the concoction, “… though if I should say so, myself… I’d rather not implicate viewers” Drinking was not something he was an adroit at, but like any other art, it could be mastered out of routine and repetitive sessions.
Colt’s sight roved mysteriously through the nooks of his hut, in a meticulous assay at the estimate of things; the cluttered place seemed nothing but the outcome of a ruffled mind, dunked in despair and faffing. His tousled friend was in a dire need of diversion, since the mourning solitude was protruding into something he could label as ‘inconvenient-truth’ with congealing waves of ‘the-past’. Colton didn’t know much about his past, just because he was more of the up-beating mate and he was to be the exhilarating factor and not the depressing one, such as alcohol was. The sole mention of this gossip should lure him away from his sorrow.
”What are you getting up to then Colt? God knows I could do with some excitement…even if it is only someone else’s story.”
“… Should I get into details… she is gorgeous” it slipped out his tongue, just as another portion of information, yet nothing to compromise the rest of the message, “I didn’t know she was my student, however… the first time we met” it would only suffice to feed him chunks of it, just to intrigue him even more, “ Beth… well, she is something” the teacher shrugged his shoulders, “Though, inviting her at my place was most definitely going astray…” he downed his eyes to the floor, probably induced by shame shuddering a little as he shovelled for his wand, extracting it rapidly and ushering his attention towards the nearest trunk, walking hither and tapping its lid to force it open.
“What are these for?” Colton didn’t want to pry, thus he would let Charlton to have a peek at the trunk’s contents before doing anything with them.
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