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Feb. 23rd, 2013 08:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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tutistempus_rpgWho: Neville & Ginny
When: Morning, 23rd February
What: Coming 'home'
Where: Neville's house in Settlement 1
Warnings/Rating: TBD
Neville woke up slowly with what felt like a mouth full of dirt. In ordinary circumstances he quite liked dirt, but he much preferred it where it belonged.
He sat up, taking a second to get his bearings. He'd slept in a few odd places in his life, and especially over the last few years. It had started with the Room of Requirement, in a hammock, which he had never quite got up the nerve to tell his Grandmother about. Then he'd crashed on Seamus' sofa for a while, and there'd been a brief stint at the Leaky Cauldron between flats. All of those had felt odd and strange for the first few nights, and that was how he felt now. Except the difference was, he realised as he sat up and rubbed a filthy hand across his eyes, was that this was his house. It had been his for months now. It just felt odd, because he'd only slept in it a few nights before wandering off into the surrounding jungle with a rucksack and a tent... and hadn't come back until late last night. So late that he hadn't even bothered to wash and undress before collapsing on the bed.
He groaned and stumbled off the bed, almost tripping over his boots lying haphazardly on the floor. He stripped off the jungle-stained clothes and staggered into the bathroom.
The shower was blissfully hot. He wasn't sure how they powered it - or anything - something to do with the sun or the wind or something. He understood very little about the new land they now lived in. It didn't seem to matter though when the water stripped months of jungle from his skin, leaving him warm and pink all over.
He found clean clothes, loose trousers that laced at the waist and a singlet. He'd taken all his T-shirts on the expedition (the word, he had to admit, was only loosely applied) and he'd wash them later when he didn't feel like his head was full of cotton wool. There was half a box of what seemed to be cereal in the pantry - he took a gamble and ate some dry. Buying food was clearly something else he'd have to do later.
He unpacked his bag with slightly more enthusiasm than he had the other tasks. He arranged the cuttings and notes on the floor in a square pattern that then turned into what was probably an incomprehensible mess to anyone other than him. Then he sat down and slowly typed it all into his datapad, which he had very carefully left behind. It took quite a long time, but then he vaguely remembered someone telling him he was going to be paid for whatever he found in the jungle, so he should probably make some kind of effort. Then, as an afterthought, he made a note on the pad to everyone so that they would know he was back. He deliberately tried not to think about who in particular might be pleased to hear the news.
Then he went out into the garden. He hadn't done anything with it before his last-minute venture, and it was almost as overgrown as the patch of vines he'd been sleeping in for the last week and a half (springier than the leaves of a month ago, but not as soft as the moss of two months ago). But the air was clean out here, and he was used to the heat of it by now so that it cleared his head. Well. No time like the present.
When: Morning, 23rd February
What: Coming 'home'
Where: Neville's house in Settlement 1
Warnings/Rating: TBD
Neville woke up slowly with what felt like a mouth full of dirt. In ordinary circumstances he quite liked dirt, but he much preferred it where it belonged.
He sat up, taking a second to get his bearings. He'd slept in a few odd places in his life, and especially over the last few years. It had started with the Room of Requirement, in a hammock, which he had never quite got up the nerve to tell his Grandmother about. Then he'd crashed on Seamus' sofa for a while, and there'd been a brief stint at the Leaky Cauldron between flats. All of those had felt odd and strange for the first few nights, and that was how he felt now. Except the difference was, he realised as he sat up and rubbed a filthy hand across his eyes, was that this was his house. It had been his for months now. It just felt odd, because he'd only slept in it a few nights before wandering off into the surrounding jungle with a rucksack and a tent... and hadn't come back until late last night. So late that he hadn't even bothered to wash and undress before collapsing on the bed.
He groaned and stumbled off the bed, almost tripping over his boots lying haphazardly on the floor. He stripped off the jungle-stained clothes and staggered into the bathroom.
The shower was blissfully hot. He wasn't sure how they powered it - or anything - something to do with the sun or the wind or something. He understood very little about the new land they now lived in. It didn't seem to matter though when the water stripped months of jungle from his skin, leaving him warm and pink all over.
He found clean clothes, loose trousers that laced at the waist and a singlet. He'd taken all his T-shirts on the expedition (the word, he had to admit, was only loosely applied) and he'd wash them later when he didn't feel like his head was full of cotton wool. There was half a box of what seemed to be cereal in the pantry - he took a gamble and ate some dry. Buying food was clearly something else he'd have to do later.
He unpacked his bag with slightly more enthusiasm than he had the other tasks. He arranged the cuttings and notes on the floor in a square pattern that then turned into what was probably an incomprehensible mess to anyone other than him. Then he sat down and slowly typed it all into his datapad, which he had very carefully left behind. It took quite a long time, but then he vaguely remembered someone telling him he was going to be paid for whatever he found in the jungle, so he should probably make some kind of effort. Then, as an afterthought, he made a note on the pad to everyone so that they would know he was back. He deliberately tried not to think about who in particular might be pleased to hear the news.
Then he went out into the garden. He hadn't done anything with it before his last-minute venture, and it was almost as overgrown as the patch of vines he'd been sleeping in for the last week and a half (springier than the leaves of a month ago, but not as soft as the moss of two months ago). But the air was clean out here, and he was used to the heat of it by now so that it cleared his head. Well. No time like the present.
