(OOC: More of Keeferson's battles with the city of Cardiff. You would have thought he would learn from the last time he was there. Apparently not, as he went back... like an idiot. I mean, if you -knew- there was a girl who didn't like you in another city who could toss you around like salad, would YOU try to visit the place if you didn't really need to? Gah, he's dumb sometimes, but I digress...)


Ubi nihil vales, ibi nihil velis
("Where you are worth nothing, there you will wish for nothing" )
<Ares Richard Keeferson, age 15, Fifth Year at Hogwarts>


Ares Richard Keeferson, if nothing else, was someone who seemed to have to learn the hard way about things. It was not as if he was foolish or puerile (usually), but he seemed to have a penchant for running into walls a few times before he found a door. Of course, some days he would end up toppling over the wall. Other days, the wall would fall on him. Given the amount of injuries he would receive on a monthly basis, one could easily figure the average was half of one, and fifty percent of the other.

Keeferson had received an owl in the middle of the day from one of his associates Talaitha. She had requested Keeferson pick up something in another city for her. Why Keeferson? Because just about everyone else was scattered across the United Kingdom. Scathach was somewhere inside of Wales, taking care of "family concerns." Considering that Scathach wasn't Welsh, that was sort of suspect. Liam was somewhere in the middle of Ireland, along with Perri. Keeferson refused to consider what the pair of them would be up to together, given they didn't get along. Aeronwy was out with some friends of hers on the shores of Scotland, hunting down some rather beautiful relics in the ruins. And as for Kaylie and Tiernan, both of them were in cities of their own: Kaylie was inside of Dublin somewhere, and Tiernan was in Brixton. Consolantia... was somewhere. Nobody knew exactly where, considering she was doing a lot portkey usage over the past few days...

Which left Keeferson going back to the same city he almost died in. This time he was a little more prepared, making sure to keep his eyes open and his collar closed. The young man made his way through the morning crowds with a grace and smoothness which would have surprised many. In order to keep people away and keep on the same powerful stride, he just visualized himself as Professor Snape. It was suprising how well it worked, given the way random passers-by made sure not to look at him too long. Then again, he wasn't concerned about who was avoiding him. He was far more worried about if someone was trying to track him down.

He need not have worried so much about "if." He was from the moment he had stepped back into Cardiff. Apparently, the vampire from before had rather loyal friends who had kept up with her bellyaching about how tasty that "one foreigner from Hogwarts" was. She, aside from being a vampire, was also a rather talented sketch artist. She had in fact made a few (slightly adulterated) sketches of Keeferson in her grip. Of course, she had neglected to tell her companions that Keeferson was slightly younger than what would have been appropriate in polite circles. She wasn't planning on sharing him to begin with.

Keeferson made sure to commit to his errands within Cardiff to the best of his efficiency. He did not spend more than three hours traversing the entire city for the eight purchased he needed to make. Given he had been plotting his route in his head from the moment he stepped foot towards his first floo passage, it was not quite that shocking. That, and he made sure to ask directions in as polite and grave a voice as possible. People were more than happy to send him on his way, despite the glasses he was wearing and the downcast look he made to the floor.

By the early afternoon, Keeferson was done. By three minutes after he had finished, Keeferson was being chased. To date, Keeferson had no idea where he was running to, only that he was running -away- from people calling him out by name. They weren't British Ministry officials, and they definitely were not friends of Liam or Perri's. Therefore, he needed to get some distance between him and them. Not in the same kind of shape as Eric Goodwich, he decided to use his height to his advantage. Leaping over garbage cans and other debris, he put plenty of distance between himself and his pursuers. None of them were willing to use magic, for fear of Aurors and other such agencies. This worked in Keeferson's favour to a certain extent, but not enough to lose them entirely.

Finally, Keeferson found himself at a pool which was undergoing a transition period. In short, everyone was out of the water at the time. Dashing in through one of the side entrances, he had an idea. Throwing everything into the Bag of Swag™, Keeferson pulled out his one piece of gillyweed. Chewing it vigorously, he dowe into the water and sank himself to the bottom. Waiting there until the gillyweed had almost run out, Keeferson had leaned against the darkest corner of the pool itself. As he had fully dragged himself out of the water, he could hear the people coming back into the pool area itself. Making a break for it (and almost slipping and shattering both kneecaps in the process), he left through another exit. Though not completely undetected, he managed to get clear of the pool before the local authorities arrived.

Keeferson made it a point to find a completely different floo passage back to Hogwarts, doing his absolute best to make it look completely natural to be soaking wet and smelling of chlorine during the middle of summer... with boots on and a completely drenched hooded shirt. He failed miserably, as one could expect.

_________________
One character thus far:
Ares Richard Keeferson, Hufflepuff Hardcase
Redefining "user-unfriendly" since 1976.

(OOC: this little blurb is based on a bit of randomized roleplay. Keeferson mentioned to a few people that he had a problem with bridges ever since an unfortunate incident in his third year. for those who really don't care about roleplay posts... this is for you, anyway. that's right, fools! I'm making you READ...)

Ovis Peto Olympus, Capra Peto Abyssus
("Sheep Go To Heaven, Goats Go To Hell")
<Ares Richard Keeferson, age 13, Third Year of Hogwarts>


Keeferson had absolutely no idea where they were. If he did, he probably would have been even more upset about this than he was already. Tiernan and Aeronwy had convinced him to accompany them on a "small little field trip" to a "quaint bit of countryside." They did not mention the fact they would be Apparating clear out of country (and onto mainland Western Europe), or that they would find themselves dealing mostly with people that did not understand English OR French at all. Keeferson managed to not get himself killed by anyone by remaining quiet and letting Tiernan do all of the talking.

After a bit of direction (and redirection due to a kindly shepherdess who was looking a little too long at Keeferson), they found the location they were looking for. The place was a bridge spanning a swift-moving river. The bridge itself was no more than 100 meters from one side to the other. However, the distance to the river itself was at least twice that. The sides of the descent to the river were sheer and sharp - humans would need distinct help climbing the face of the walls. However, what was climbing up was no human when Keeferson looked over.

Keeferson saw a river troll.

Now this was no ordinary troll that was making its way up. First and foremost, it was wearing a full climber's outfit, complete with a pickaxe and clawhammer in its tool belt. Secondly, all of its gear was clearly of muffle manufacture. So, either this river troll had killed people for their items or...

"You there!" the troll bellowed as it reached the top. "Who gave you permission to cross my bridge! You will pay a toll if you wish to traverse MY bridge!"

Keeferson blinked. As far as he knew, trolls didn't really speak, let alone use ten-dollar words. Not to mention the river troll's wristwatch looked like it was worth at least four thousand euros. Since trolls of any kind were not known for highstepping it through Harrod's, Keeferson knew something was wrong. He wanted to say something to the river troll, but he did not wish to test its wrath unless he had to. Keeping one hand close to his bag, he took a step backwards.

"Oye, Borderlion Legtwister," replied Aeronwy to the troll's challenge, apparently knowing the great lump of muscle and malevolence's name. "You say you have a toll for this bridge? Since when do I have to pay you to go anywhere? Step aside, as you have no rights to this place here."

"*****, how -dare- you tell me where I need stand? I will show you pain and your own blood! Remain there so that I may kill you where you stand!"

"Oh, Aeronwy," muttered Tiernan loud enough for Keeferson to hear. "That wasn't really swift, was it? We could have just bribed him and been on our way..."

"**** him! **** that stupid *****@$$ troll! Nobody threatens me. Nobody! He wants to see me up close and personal? I'll give him something to bloomin' paint with, Tiernan!"

Aeronwy was in the most terrifying rage Keeferson had ever seen her in. He was at that moment reminded as to how much younger he was compared to Tiernan and Aeronwy. As far as Keeferson knew (at this time), he wasn't even allowed to draw his wand in the face of danger and/or possible crippling. A fat lot of good magic did, when it was pretty much stuck in your wallet and only able to be used in certain locations. Keeferson took another few steps back, wanting to run somewhere - anywhere, really.

The river troll approached, drawing both the clawhammer and the pickaxe. Clearly, the river troll was doing the "giant's diet routine" of bones and blood from Englishmen... except none of the trio facing the river troll were clearly British. It did not matter to the enraged vodenjak apparently, as the first downward swing was for Aeronwy's head. As she dodged nimbly out of the way, Keeferson fell backwards. Finding himself tumbling, the young Hufflepuff tried his best to get back on his feet in a scramble. The vodenjak, sensing the fact Keeferson was the weakest of the trio, rose his left hand to smite the youth down and permanently.

And this is where things got weird... for Keeferson.

Before the pixeaxe put a hole in his spine, Keeferson caught a blur of three small furry things rush past him. The sound of stomping of hooves was unmistakable, as was the sound that at least one person had been run into. Still keeping his eyes closed, he rolled in the direction of the least amount of strugging. Getting up at last, Keeferson's eyes open.

If Keeferson had ever believed in fairy tales before, this solidified it. Keeferson was watching three goats attacking the river troll. And they were doing a pretty good job of it. The thing was, Keeferson did not recall the "Three Billygoats Gruff" each being at least the size of a Pyranese Sheepdog. As the troll itself was at least nine feet at the shoulder, everything seemed to even itself out. What Keeferson was not expecting was the vodenjak had called a friend to "quell the commoner's uprising." This "friend" was nothing less than a half-giant. (What the other "half" was, however, was clearly up for discussion.) Tiernan and Aeronwy were working together to ward off the half-giant, while the three goats were harrying the river troll.

Keeferson, in short, was very lost at this point.

Suddenly, Keeferson got an idea. Taking out a few random potions from his bag, he hurled them at the faces of the half-giant and the river troll. Though the potions (all failed mixtures and mélanges from his tutoring sessions) were supposed to be non-toxic, they had the desired effect when two of them combined. The vodenjak and its companion started to howl in anguish as their eyes and nostrils were filled with the acrid stench from the fumes. The liquids themselves created a viscous layer between the skin of the duo and the outside world, preventing either of the two massive mounds of muscle from cleaning themselves off easily.

The three goats vanquished their opponent first, apparently being genetically disposed to facing down trolls. (Who knew?) First, they made sure to keep the vodenjak from landing a successful strike from the clawhammer by biting its hands until it dropped the massive climbing tool. The smallest of the three goats then ran up, bit down on the clawhammer's handle, and dragged it off at least fifty meters before rejoining the fight. The largest of the three goats slammed into the vodenjak's kneecaps and then its side. Finally, the middle goat (which also showed itself to be the fastest one) lunged at the river troll and struck it in the head with both horns. Sending it over the bridge's barrier, the three goats observed it all the way down until it hit the water, not to rise from the frothing current until almost out of sight.

The half-giant was not as kind as to be defeated so easily. Having successfully struck at both Aeronwy and Tiernan, the terrible form of the infuriated being approached Keeferson. Keeferson, however, had a brand new idea. Hurling two vials of something at the half-giant, he goaded it to follow him onto the bridge itself. Despite the cries of Tiernan and Aeronwy, he ran out into the middle of the bridge and WAITED for the half-giant. Looming before him, the half-giant reminded the young Hufflepuff of what he must look like to the average five year old. The thought was decidedly unpleasant. Pulling out hairspray and a Zippo lighter (which he kept mainly for killing mosquitoes), he made an impromptu flamethrower, lighting the oils which had thrown earlier. The other potions already soaking into the half-giant reacted violently to this, also igniting. Dashing backwards, Keeferson could only watch as the half-giant flailed around in agony before it too toppled over the railings and into the ever-welcoming river below.

At this point, Keeferson took the grand opportunity to finish crossing the bridge and lose his lunch. The smells and his actions overcame him at long last. Staggering to sit underneath a tree, he waited for Tiernan and Aeronwy to come and find him. The tree was close to a small tributary which emptied over into the river they had just crossed. Dunking his head into the tributary for a time, Keeferson rose from it only to find three goats just -staring- at him, expectantly.

"What... are they doing?!?"

"Oh, I believe they are awaiting payment, Keeferson."

"Payment? But... but... they're goats! What the heck do you pay goats with? I don't have any oats on me or something like that. And why would I be paying goats to begin with?"

Tiernan laughed, holding his bruised ribcage. "They are not regular goats, Keef my boy. These are Goats of Wōđanaz, supposedly descended from Tanngrisnir and Tanngnjóstr themselves. And they take anything edible as payment, as they are voracious eaters. So I hope you have something good to eat on you, as I believe they are eyeing your robes..."

"You've got to be ******* kidding me... HEY!"

The smallest goat had already taken a bite out of Keeferson's school robes. As Keeferson tried to pull away, the goat pulled back, creating a most amusing power struggle for Aeronwy and Tiernan to observe. Finally, frustrated beyond all belief, Keeferson removed his robes, showing his muggle garments to the world. His prized Public Enemy long-sleeved shirt, along with dark baggy denim pants. His workboots remained the same, even though he had to skip in order to keep the laces away from the largest of the three goats. Going into his bag, Keeferson pulled out what was the equivalent of two carrot zucchini cakes, one pineapple-coconut bread, and what may have been three dozen cookies. Aeronwy was positively stunned one person of any age would have that much food on him. (Aeronwy and Tiernan both were not familiar with Keeferson's Bag of Swag™.)

"Down one robe. Down a whole lot of food. Down a ton of potions. Down some really freakin' pricey extra virgin olive oil. Down a really nice bottle of cassoway seed oil. Whatever it is we are here for, it had better be freakin' worth it. This is mudraking insanity here."

"Stop bellyaching, Keefykins!" admonished Aeronwy with a grin. "It's not as if we ran into a dragon, right? Besides, it'll totally be worth it."

When they did find what it was they were looking for, Keeferson's singular comment (which sent Tiernan into hysterics) was "I risked my life, my food, my cooking, and my Zippo lighter for THIS? You have to be ******* kidding me, Aeronwy!" Aeronwy spent the next fifteen minutes chasing Keeferson with a broom as he cursed up a storm until the others caught up to them.

_________________
One character thus far:
Ares Richard Keeferson, Hufflepuff Hardcase
Redefining "user-unfriendly" since 1976.

(OOC: This would have also taken place in the past - the recent past in this case. Occuring overnight when Madam Pomfrey has tucked her charges in for the night and retired herself. Despite the fact there were others in the Infirmary at this time, they would not have been disturbed by these events. Mainly as the people involved would remain fairly silent throughout this.)


Haud Res Qua Vos Ire , Illic Vos Es
("No Matter Where You Are Going, There You Are")
<Ares Richard Keeferson, age 15, Fifth Year at Hogwarts>


Four sets of feet pushed their way into the Hospital Ward of Hogwarts. All of them in stockinged feet and wands at the ready in case of unforeseen mishaps. One of them had her wand casting a dim amount of light. Two of them were carrying small bags, two of them in their off-hand each. As for the last one, she was watching the way they came. Even though they were not a team of infiltration specialists, they had a good idea of how to not get themselves caught.

Looking through the beds, they easily found the one they were looking for: Keeferson (Ares Richard). Reading through the diagnosis, the girl (really, young woman at this point in her life) shook her head and sighed. Raising her eyes to the ceiling, she whispered something in Italian. Confusing her compatriots, she translated back to English for them.

"Boys. No matter how old they get, you can never train them out of being genetically stupid."

Theresa Olapaglia couldn't even look into the partition without her lips curling with scorn. As a Slytherin, she knew as a fact that coming in here to check on a Hufflepuff would be frowned upon. Not that she cared about public opinion, but there was something to be said about not having to hex and jinx your House-mates for weeks on end to get them to shut up. Even a Hufflepuff as proven useful as this one would be cause for stares and statements. Given that he had been targeted by those anonymous harpies, the Slytherin Siren Seven, anyone connected to him would be considered fair game. It was interesting that none of Theresa's friends had been struck down by their viper pens thus far, but there was always time in the day for that...

Keeferson had never really done anything for her, specifically. However, some of the "baby Serpents" that Theresa had been watching over had vouched for his good name. Well, "vouch" might be too strong a term. However, when Theresa had idly mentioned extra Charms tutoring for half-off if someone could get her some of her favourite teas, every last one of the First Year students had gone straight to Keeferson to make the purchases for them. (Especially as one of them had gone so far to also get Theresa her favourite brand of Firewhiskey to go along with the tea. She had not asked how. The First Year student never told her, either.)

"Boys. No matter how young they are, they never think with what you want them to."

This was whispered in reply by the young woman carrying the heavier pair of bags. Giggling softly, Umi Aramia unloaded her two totes fairly quickly. Placing the contents at the foot of the bed, she wondered quietly how she was convinced to do this. Then remembering Sinn're Alarcsein's face as she whispered her "request," she had a full recollection: fear. When she wanted to be, Sinn're could be a little green bundle of terror - and that was by Slytherin standards. Not to mention Umi herself didn't mind Keeferson that much. Sure, he was a muggle-born Hufflepuff, but he had his uses. (A few Potions essays, one Independent Study Unit for Arithmancy, and two painfully boring classes she didn't have to sit through with Professor Binns as Keeferson took the notes for her.)

Umi had a few random thoughts as she removed the sheets currently covering Keeferson. Rolling up the sheets, she then levitated him above the bed with a spell. Removing those sheets as well, she replaced all the linens with magnificent high thread count ones... in fern green with a "hunter's shadow jade" underlay. They were not as expensive as they looked, especially as she had a few connections of her own. And most importantly, she hadn't been the one footing the bill. Looking at Keeferson again, she considered what made him so important to pull off something like this. Then she remembered how bad the Hufflepuffs would look and grinned. Placing a face serpent on the foot of the bed, she put everything else away with sorcery.

"Boys. Can't live with them without wanting to kill 'em. Can't kill 'em without wanting to live with them. Wait a second... of course I could."

Georgina Watson chimed in with her own statement about boys. Given that she was still steaming about a rather nasty private break-up with a pure-blood Ravenclaw who dumped her for a muggle-born Hufflepuff, it was surprising she volunteered for this little "repainting party." Taking out from her purses quite a few things, she got to work on her part. Placing the incense candles around the bed, she made sure all the porcelain saucers (rimmed with a lovely silver piping) were situated in places Keeferson would be unlikely to jar when he awoke.

Her part in all of this stemmed from the fact Keeferson had not only helped her with Arithmancy, but was actually willing to sit down and talk with her about what she wanted to do with her future. It was a topic she was loathe to bring up with her fellow Slytherins, mainly as she had wanted to work in a medical facility in France. The main reason she did not wish to intern at St. Mungo's was that she believed she could achieve more going across the waters and starting completely new. Keeferson had gone so far as to take notes and make some inquiries for her the following week. Being subtle at least, Keeferson had gotten her the names of those (currently) she would need to contact ahead of time. He never mentioned how or why he did it, just giving her a half-salute and walking away to Divinations class.

"Boys. They can only be young once, but they can be immature forever."

Cherise D’angelnuit almost whispered that. Looking at Keeferson's visage, one could almost believe he was only sleeping. A closer look would show this not to be true. She shook her head and tried not to think about it. Keeferson was not a "brother" to her or even a "second cousin, once removed." In her eyes, Keeferson would always be "Keeferson." Not a potential friend, nor a dire enemy. He managed to fall into two categories: Boy and Being That Sinn're Likes And Therefore I Should Put Up With Him. There were not many "beings" that were in that second category. One could almost equate it with pets, babies, and random supermodels.

Almost.

Cherise remembered their first dealings back in Keeferson's first year. And now here they were four years later. Cherise was taller. Keeferson... was much taller. And Keeferson was laying on his back as if he already had both feet in the grave. The only thing that showed him for being alive was the breathing. Shaking her head, she transfigured one of the pillows into a Severus Snape plushie. Making sure the robes on the plushie made that "swoosh" noise that the real Professor Snape did when striding through the halls, she nodded to herself. All was in readiness now.

The girls stood back to admire their work, then made sure to take a few pictures for posterity (and blackmail). Nodding to each other, they sneaked out of the Infirmary the same way they came in. And as they shut the door to the Infirmary itself, they whispered to each other with a grin one thing:

"Mischief Managed."

_________________
One character thus far:
Ares Richard Keeferson, Hufflepuff Hardcase
Redefining "user-unfriendly" since 1976.

(ooc: this one people would not find out about unless they asked him specifically. reason being? this is a dream sequence.)


"Nemo Surdior Est Quam Is Qui Non Audiet"
("No Man Is More Deaf Than He Who Will Not Hear")
<Ares Richard Keeferson, age 15>


This was not the first time he was here. Almost every single time, the dream began the same. The only thing that changed was the faces of those he was fighting. Not all the time would he win. In fact, there were quite a few times he lost - and horribly. Those times, Keeferson would wake up on time for his early morning showers in a bad mood and a splitting headache.

It was those times he won that bothered him. That fact that he knew that just about every person he had encountered more than thrice he had seen dead by his own hands. Whether it be Lani Perian from Ravenclaw, Mr. Ollivander the wandmaker, or even that one bus driver he never liked back in Toronto on the route that he lived on. All of them had tried to kill him. All of them he had fought and won or lost against.

Those mornings when he won, there was no headache. There was just an aching in his chest, and that low snickering he associated with Canadian Ministry of Magic officials. Without fail, he would have the dreams at least twice in a seven day period. Not as if he could control the schedule when they appeared, either. The other nights in the week he had other things to disturb him. But the reason why he hated these nightmares the most was how good he felt when he triumphed over another. Especially as he could feel every single moment while he was being harmed... or harming others. He normally kept the true accounts of these dreams to himself, mainly as sharing them with others would be disturbing at best.

The first time he had the dreams, he had been just turning ten years old. It was the night before his birthday. All before that, he had merely been sick. Symptoms that would lend themselves to influenza or lung cancer had plagued him for that first year. With the onset of the nightmares, the symptoms eased up. After all, he had something else to "keep him company." It was when he mentioned them to the Ministry officials that the drugs had truly begain. And it was here when Keeferson's ability to donate blood or bone marrow was irrevocably altered.

Within months, Keeferson started showing signs of different ailments at random. Some days he would have sneezing fits, while other it would be coughing. At least twice per month, he would spend almost the entire night just sitting in a bathtub with cold water pouring onto him. This continued for an entire year - just up to when Keeferson received his letters for Hogwarts. It was not that the Canadian Ministry of Magic was incompetent in any way, shape or form. They just had no idea exactly what they were dealing with. Hearing that Keeferson would be taken off their hands officially was a joy. For Keeferson, however, finding out that he would have to leave his home continent just to receive treatment was a horror story in real life.

And here he was now, years later and still suffering from the nightmares. Other dreams had been interwoven to his nightly tapestry, of course, but the massacre matinée always took top spot. For a while, Keeferson had even started taking the Draught of Dreamless sleep, adding to the toxins in his blood. He was taking it so much that there were days he could have sworn it wasn't working. Whether it was or was not in truth is up for discussion, but his blood was a virtual storage facility for some of the strangest reactions the Canadian Ministry of Magic had ever seen.

Keeferson didn't actually -like- being close to people because of this. Sure, he was good at interaction with others. Heck, he by now had people who freely called themselves his friends. And all the while, Keeferson would always have some part of his mind still stuck in that dreamland, trying to figure out if he could fight them or not. There were a few he knew he couldn't defeat unless they did something very foolish, such as Professor Severus Snape, Liam Creidhe, and (he was absolutely certain) Necrolissica Crest. And then there were others whom he believed would not be a significant challenge, but would show no mercy to either if need be. He remembered quite well -being- that person that nobody gave any credit to. Some days, throwing a fight was in your best interests. Other days, feigning weakness could get you shot - literally.

And this night, Keeferson lay in bed just looking at the ceiling. Having instilled numerous hexes and triggered reactions into the curtains around the poster bed, he knew that sleep would not find him so easily. Having been in a coma for such a long period of time, he felt overtired. What he really did not want to do, however, was recall anything within that time inside his own head. There were some things he figured he could live without seeing a second time... or hearing.

_________________
One character thus far:
Ares Richard Keeferson, Hufflepuff Hardcase
Redefining "user-unfriendly" since 1976.

(ooc: just ... something.)


Accommodo
("To Adapt")
<Ares Richard Keeferson, age 15>


This was his first weekend in the new place. Having vacated everything from Hufflepuff Commons was his first step. Convincing the people he "worked with" to put up their names for a place for him to stay was the second step. And the third? Learning to live on his own, essentially. That really didn't last too long, as Scathach and Kaylie had taken up the other two bedrooms. Those two bedrooms remained wizardlocked at all times, so Keeferson needed not worry about them... unless some sort of foul odour started coming from one of them. And as it was unlikely that either of them would be bringing home livestock or manure, Keeferson didn't feel the need to go into either of those rooms and clean them up and out.

His first weekend that he was not in the direct glare of his boarding school, his teachers, or his parents. It did not feel particularly freeing. He had spent quite a few hours studying either in the apartment or in one of the various libraries around London. Not to mention, anything magical had to be kept to a strict minimum when he was outside of magically-bound areas within the United Kingdom. It suited him though, not having that tingling sensation in the back of his head all the time. He rarely spoke about that to others, mainly as none of them would understand.

His thoughts drifted to the various women who had crossed his path over the years. Of course, "women" in his eyes translated to "anyone female, human, and over the age of ten." This he allowed himself while he was doing dishes - still with his gloves on. The gloves were a habit now, even in muggle society. He always had a sound excuse for them, though there were more occasions now than before he would take them off. When he was trying to be gentle with others, for example, or when he was dealing with particularly fragile items (or people). In the end, the gloves remained. And in the end, the women changed. Even people he had known for as long as Kylindra Valerine or Shacadia Shay would eventually change. This was a constant he had anticipated going into the school itself. People would grow up, grow away, and grow apart. It was the nature of things, at least in the eyes of Keeferson.

Finishing the dishes, he looked back at the empty room. Sneering slightly, he went looking for that purported "ghost in the system." Finding nothing once again, Keeferson found himself sitting in the large "Lord of All You Survey" chair, steepling his fingers. Knowing perfectly well the apartment had come pre-furnished, Keeferson was looking to put his own stamp on the place. Though not all of his things had come out of the boxes and luggage, he already had a few ideas to spruce up the place. He had already been given the clearance to do so, as long as it wasn't anything really dangerous... or obnoxious.

The first, of course, was a computer. At least a pair of them, if not a trio. He was also going to get the internet lined up for the apartment as well - both this one and the other unit that Aeronwny and Talaitha had clamped their names to. Being the only person familiar with the internet made this a little tricky at first. Keeferson figured it would take the rest of Liam's crew about three weeks to see the value in such. When he had owled Perri with the idea, the message back had been a simple one: written over and over on a parchments, were "ROFLcoptor," "LOL," and "WTFBBQkthxbye!" Keeferson managed to not damage the counter when he head-desked himself a few times. He did not anticipate how hard it would be to inform a vendor that he wanted to pay for things in CASH because that was what he had and not some credit card that could be tagged on later. He also did not factor in how much it was for basic parts inside of Birmingham and Brixton. He had managed to get a drive from Mr. Phaershris in unit C09, thanks to having tutored his son in mathematics a few hours two weekends previous. Mr. Phaershris had even spoken to Keeferson's teacher back home on his behalf for his "great work ethic," despite it being a long-distance phone call for him. (Keeferson insisted on paying Mr. Phaershris back, which is how Keeferson ended up fixing the older man's computer.) What Keeferson did not know, however, was that Mr. Phaershris was actually a Ministry of Magic employee, along with his wife and his numerous friends in the other buildings close by. This would be a grand source of amusement for Mr. Evansale Phaershris much later on in the month.

The second major change Keeferson was looking towards was adding a proper music system in the place. He was making sure to purchase everything used and if possible from the previous owners directly. The less he could be traced, the better. Most of his buys were through Craigslist, EBay, and other venues. When he wanted to, Keeferson could move pretty fast when it came to deals. This time around, however, he had help from the most unusual of sources: Consolantia and Perri. He knew something was up when the pair of them showed up on his doorstep less then five minutes after Jessica had headed off to a library Keeferson had shown her. Between the trio, they must have moved at least 5000 British pounds worth of musical equipment into both of the apartments. When Keeferson tried to ask why the pair of them were financing everything, the two women looked at each other and started laughing hysterically.

Keeferson at that point was reminded he was never supposed to understand women. Ever.

Finally, Keeferson had made it a point to get as many proper groceries and toiletries for both apartments as he could. That one took a bit of time, thanks to a few taxicab trips and lugging everything up the steps by himself. He wasn't about to ask anyone for assistance with this, but he did take a few potions before and after the task was over... after making sure nobody was around. He was still minimizing his intake of chemical compounds of any sort, but he allowed himself this one luxury. After all, he was responsible for keeping everyone that walked through the door while he was in the apartment fed. Or at least, that is what Kaylie insisted after she learned what a good cook he was.

"Weekend Number One of the rest of my damnable life. Yay me."

Keeferson looked at the bottle of vodka on the table, and then at the glass.

"No... Not doing that yet."

_________________
One character thus far:
Ares Richard Keeferson, Hufflepuff Hardcase
Redefining "user-unfriendly" since 1976.

(OOC: been a while since I have written anything in here. might as well give it a shot of colour. this is a continuation of roleplay which happened the night previous. said roleplay was around numerous PCs, such as Feargus, Lani, Sliver, Tomar, and others. and yes, it is directly related to three of the things Keeferson started out with in First Year.)


Aegroto, Dum Anima Est, Spes Esse Dicitur
("It Is Said That For A Sick Man, There Is Hope As Long As There Is Life")
<Ares Richard Keeferson, age 15, Fifth Year At Hogwarts>


There are things in this world people are not meant to understand. How the caramel gets into the Caramilk bar is one of them. Why some nations believe that Americans can't play soccer (European football) is another. Which came first: the chicken or the egg. Simple things, normally, that one can live without knowing. Another one of those mysteries was how one student who looked like he was in the best of health physically could constantly have medical issues that could fell an elephant. This was what faced a few young people inside of Hogwarts.

Keeferson, in a word, was sick. Again. The illness that was his constant bane had been waiting for a moment when he let his guard down, and decided that today was the day. After being ushered into Hufflepuff Commons by Lani and Feargus, he slept almost fitfully. Unlike the nightmares he had seen in others, his dreams were filled with completely unfamiliar landscapes and scenarios. The worst one was, in his opinion, the meeting with the President of the American Ministry of Magic. Madame President was not exactly a fan of his or his friends, and within the dream Keeferson suffered through a two hour long lecture from her, with Dumbledore, John Constantine and Harry Dresden shaking their heads at him sorrowfully.

Another dreamscape had Keeferson and his friends from the Bad Boys of Duelling up against numerous girls from Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, and numerous private schools within Europe. This time, however, Keeferson had no wand... and the girls decided to use this to their advantage. Keeferson managed to hold off a few of them with the potions he (always) had on him, but in time they used him as a battering ram to smack all of his friends into a paste. It was highly embarassing, to say the least. And the bruising and soreness was so palpable, Keeferson carried them throughout the rest of the visions he was forced to suffer through.

The next "nightmare" within the series for Keeferson had him walking through what looked like a post-apocalyptic San Diego. Given that Keeferson had never been to San Diego previously, he wondered how he recognized anything there. (He had watched a few movies set in San Diego, California, a few years back. He had blocked out the memories due to how terrible the acting was.) Noticing that technology and magic were being used in conjunction, he thought to try to scry what had happened. The resulting magical storm from him using a spell "forbidden to the Spine Walkers" forced him to take cover in a burned out hospital. It was there he was forced to confront the souls of the dead who he couldn't save - the souls of those he told himself he would never allow to be touched. The last thing he could remember seeing was a glowing light surrounding him and the words:

"And thou shalt know punishment worse than Naraka or Tartarus, as thou shalt remain amongst thine own tragedies forevermore."

The next dream sequence was in a familiar place to Keeferson: Chinatown. However, it wasn't merely Chinatown (London), but Chinatown (New York City - all of them), Chinatown (Toronto), Chinatown (Vancouver), Chinatown (Seattle), and Chinatown (San Francisco). This was the last of the three dream sequences, simply because of the massive amount of time it took to traverse the numerous streets. Keeferson found himself trapped within the boundaries of the various Chinatowns, unable to find his way back home. All he could do was watch as his friends were fighting against some Unknowable Eviland Unfathomable Darkness just outside the borders. Every time he reaches the edges of one of the Chinatowns he is trapped in, he arrives just to see another group of his friends making a valiant last stand against the thing. And as he casts... is he transported to another Chinatown.

The stranger thing within this dream sequence is that all of his Asian friends are OUTSIDE fighting whatever the being is. At the same time, many of the people he despises are INSIDE the borders of Chinatown, looking for a way out themselves. It is as if the place which gave him so much hope and promise has now become a prismatic prison for him. At a few occasions, he even tries to enlist the aid of his foes, only for the group of them to be sundered by some unknown arcane means. And throughout it all, there is the constant presence of a voice mocking Keeferson. He doesn't know why, but it sounds like a cross between Mako and James Earl Jones. The voice keeps asking him if it was all truly worth it, only to fail in the end.

As Keeferson wakes up, he utters a spell at what he believes the source of the voice is: a British style telephone booth that shows up every time he is thrown from one Chinatown to the other. The spell detonates the phone booth, and the shadow of a well-dressed man appears to him, holding a most impressive cane with a tiger's head on it.

Groggly and miserable, Keeferson staggers his way to the showers, washing himself in terrifyingly cold water for around ten minutes. He barely notices the steam coming from his body as he does so, not even noticing the water is just shy of turning into ice out of the shower head. All he knows is that during the shower he slowly starts to feel a heck of a lot better. By the time he is done, his headache is even gone. Checking himself for scars and scrapes, he finds there is nothing new which has turned up. At least, nothing he needs to worry himself about. Though perhaps he should pay a little more attention to those markings on his left wrist...

_________________
One character thus far:
Ares Richard Keeferson, Hufflepuff Hardcase
Redefining "user-unfriendly" since 1976.

(ooc: this is in response to some of the Ravenclaw Status Titans posters which went up recently.)


Omnes vulnerant, ultima necat
("All (hours) wound, the last kills.")
<Ares Richard Keeferson, age 15, Fifth Year at Hogwarts>


The “Hufflepuff Hardcase,” one Mr Ares Richard Keeferson was, in a word, surrounded. Surrounded by at least twenty upset First and Second Year girls from all four Houses. He was certain there were a few Third Year girls there as well, but he wasn’t willing to really try to look that hard. All of them had wands pointed at him, some of them with tears in their eyes. He was loathe to fight them all with his usual means, especially as some of these same girls he had comforted when they were teased or taunted by older boys.

Sighing and holding the bridge of his nose, Keeferson tried not to snarl, glare, or pick up a table. His instinctive responses would do him no good in this scenario. Looking around for just about anything, he noticed there was a chair available. Though he never really did like the fifth floor of Hogwarts, they had very comfortable chairs there. So he did was anyone in his situation would do...

He forged his way over to the chair and sat down heavily.

“Now then, might I ask what all the wands are pointed at me for –this time?-“

One of the girls piped up. This one from Ravenclaw.

“We heard! We heard you got mad at Sierra Tillery and hurled a bench at her! Then you threatened to sacrifice Theresa Olapaglia to a demon! And then you used dark magic to bind Phillida Courtfennel to the rafters in the Owlery for three hours straight!”

Keeferson sighed and placed his head in his hands. The part about about Sierra was partially true, he couldn’t recall arguing with Theresa within the past few weeks, and he would never be caught dead around Phillida and rope alone, ever. (That would just be a mistake he’d never manage to wake up from. She had a thing for spider webs, rope ladders, and just about anything that could be tied... or tied down. That just wasn't healthy. She even made nooses out of long blades of grass... for fun.) He had not even -seen- Theresa in the past few days anyway, as she had been far too busy with... "something really important." (He could even hear the not-giggle coming from her throat as she skipped away. Skipped!) Not to mention, the only time he could remember demons being in any conversation was when he was calling himself one. Keeferson had a feeling this was going to be a fairly long day, indeed.

“And I thought you were supposed to be different, Keeferson.” This time the accuser was a Slytherin damsel in her Second Year at the school. “You always said we ought never let any boy boss us around. You insisted that girls could be as smart as any boy without any fancy gadgets or gimmicks. You… you actually made me believe in you!”

Keeferson looked through his hands at the young woman. This one he could recall having been told by a group of Fourth Year Gryffindor boys that girls were good for three things. Keeferson had stopped the conversation right there with a growl and meaningful gesture towards his Bag of Swag™. Taking the young lady away from what could have been an awful mess, he had spent a full hour going through a list of witches who had made significant strides in the world of Potions.

“Keeferson, how could you? You were supposed to be better than the rest of the boys. Instead… you’re the worst one of them. I can’t believe I trusted you. You, the one who matches up to everything the Ravenclaw Status Titans said about boys. You, the one who everything the Slytherin Siren Seven says is right! Why, Keeferson? Why?”

The young Hufflepuff was in tears as if he broke her heart. Keeferson looked to the ceiling of the room, wondering if it was possible to collapse a section of the castle without anyone noticing. Looking back at the masses, he stretched once in the chair and got himself comfortable. It was not as if he was going anywhere far or fast. Death by midgets with magic sticks. Not exactly the way he thought it was going to die, but far less embarrassing than death by Chihuahuas .

“So then, I take it you are going to Incendio me until I am ash? Or use enough of that Sting spell to electrocute me? Perhaps use all of those basic summons you have as a collective mob to tear me apart? Whatever it is, I would hope that you understand the road you are taking by doing such. Oh no, I am not going to stop you. I know what I am, and I know what I have done. Not once have I told you I am a good person. Not once have I told you I am the most even tempered person. I don’t like lying to people – especially people as young as yourselves.

“You want to take out your frustration on me? Fine. I’ve been expecting something like this sooner or later anyway. Your choice, after all. Just don’t do something really stupid and forget everything I’ve told you so far. It would mean the few good things I might have actually done in my life would have been a complete waste of – ARGH!”

The shock and grumble were from a small mass of eleven and twelve year old girls swarming Keeferson and bapping him over the head and arms or hugging him. Some enterprising girls were doing both. The complete chaos overwhelmed the towering young man, who now realized that sitting down was not the best vantage point for him. The scene went on for at least ten minutes by the fifteen year old’s rationale. He was almost certain the girls had brought in reinforcements.

Keeferson was certain there was at least one Cheerio spell in there, along with Expelliarimus. Though his ears were ringing from all the boxing they were receiving, he was absolutely certain he heard a few spells aimed in his direction. Though it was not as if he was moving far to begin with. Keeping his eyes closed so they wouldn't be filled with ponytails and french braids, he was too afraid to stand back up. Not only was he certain he would crush someone if he did manage to get to his feet, he wasn't certain his knees would hold out from the numerous flying tackles he knew he would receive.

After the initial rush was over, Keeferson (through a rather sore visage) tried to get a rough head count. Apparently the girls –did- bring in some reinforcements. Now looking at least thirty young women from the ages of eleven to thirteen, Keeferson started counting exactly how many ways he could possibly kill himself with a feather pillow before the girls could stop him. Given they all had wands and he didn’t, that would be sort of difficult.

A group of around seven girls (who must have been the defacto leaders of this little soiree) were huddled in a circle, discussing something. As they disbanded, the tallest one smiled rather curiously at Keeferson. Just like a waterfall, the facial expression cascaded through the numerous young women. Finally, the lone boy in the room recognized a few faces: Esmerelda LaQuarte from Slytherin and Cara Mordaine from Hufflepuff. If he had not despaired before, he chose to now. That pair were part of the group that had done that fateful (and painful) "interview" with him so many moons ago. He tried to recall what year they were in now, but he was distracted from the calculations by a triumphant sounding voice...

“It’s been decided! We are going to save your soul the old-fashioned way… through constant harassment. The ‘Cure Big Daddy Flapjacks’ campaign has begun!”

As Keeferson was once again swarmed by over two dozen damsels and future witches, he seriously began to doubt the importance of being a “kinder, gentler human being.” Running was not possible. Walking was not possible. Heck, the fact he could move his lungs in order to breathe was impressive. At once, he begin praying silently for forgiveness to all of the junior and senior kindergarten teachers he had ever been taught by. He knew three things from this moment:

1) he would never look at sugar by itself as a means of crowd control again

2) the moment he could learn a spell that acted like professional body armor, he was getting it

3) the first chance he got, he was taking a luxurious bubble bath in a hotel, FAR away from Hogwarts where nobody could find him

_________________
One character thus far:
Ares Richard Keeferson, Hufflepuff Hardcase
Redefining "user-unfriendly" since 1976.

(ooc: This is based on Keeferson’s research. Despite the various roleplay witnessed, he is in fact still working on the spell research he started back in his first year. Now in his Fifth Year, Keeferson has spent literally five years doing off and on studies on various incantations, rituals, and charms. Unfortunately for him, this has taken him to various locations he really doesn’t want to remember.)


Quare Viridis Est Secus Bonus Pro Nonnullus Populus
("Why Green Isn’t So Good For Some People")
<Ares Richard Keeferson, age 14, Fourth Year at Hogwarts>



Keeferson really had no love for where he was at this moment. Given the fact he had spent the majority of his formative years thus far inside of a foreign country did not help his situation. Sure, he had been warned months ago that his studies would take him far and wide. And of course, he had accepted the eventuality of this fact as he had already been to a few places he had never imagined going to over the past few years. The reality of the situation, though, was always jarring.

Especially when the person who brought you over was being held at wand-point… and sword-point.

“Tiernan Leekstone! You cowardly, craven, wretched thief of hearts! Give me ten good reasons why I don’t cleave your head from your shoulders!”

Keeferson barely understood what the man was saying through the thick Irish accent, but some phrases are translatable no matter what language they are in. His left eyebrow raised as the older gent with a peppered beard held the sword point pressed against Tiernan’s chest. He wondered quietly to himself about how they managed to get into this mess to begin with.

* * * * * *

Tiernan had been talked into taking Keeferson to Ireland by Scathach and Kaylie. As none of Kaylie’s personal relatives were available, Kaylie insisted that it was Tiernan’s “duty as a faux older brother” to watch over Keeferson as he went searching for information inside of one of Ireland ’s oldest magical libraries. Granted, another reason was that Keeferson had absolutely no talent when it came to translating Gaelic. As well, Kaylie had a sneaking suspicion there would be young women from various private colleges there, and she did not want Keeferson talking with “strange girls I can’t hit from here.”

In short, Kaylie was in overprotective mode. Tiernan found the entire speech exasperating, but was unable to get away. Given the fact if Kaylie didn’t pound him, Aeronwy and Talaitha most certainly would. And Scathach had insisted it was better that someone Irish take Keeferson through Ireland . After all, he could take the young Hogwarts student through Scotland without much issue. As well, it had been a little while since Tiernan had taken some time away from the group to go back home.

Tiernan finally acquiesced, mainly because he was going out on a date that evening and didn’t want people to screw up his timing. Informing Keeferson that he’d send an owl on the day he had everything set up, Tiernan left the apartment Scathach and Kaylie rented without another word. Keeferson shrugged once, sitting down in the couch.

“Actually, Keef, I thought it was going to be a lot harder. Tiernan’s got to be on the super sodden’ lazy side of things on the more oft than not scale. If it wasn’t for the fact he needs to eat, he’d sleep more than a cat with narcolepsy. But you know tradewinds to tankards that Tiernan won’t steer your wrong. I’ve had to gamble my life with his hands, and I still have the dice to talk about it.”

This was Scathach, in support of his good friend. Keeferson blinked twice, slowly. Normally, Scathach wasn’t quite that passionate in defending people if they hadn’t done anything. It was as if he was trying to tell Keeferson on something that even he wasn’t quite certain on. In the end, Keeferson just nodded again in agreement. It wasn’t as if Tiernan had ever done anything to make Keeferson doubt him to begin with, right?

Managing to overcome the chaos of a few rather interesting weeks after a full moon, Keeferson managed to get permission to “take off for the day.” How he managed this was simple: government handler intervention. Making sure to give just enough details to the attaché assigned to his cast listing that month, Keeferson had them send permission slips over to Hogwarts on what was originally a Hogsmeade weekend.

Tiernan met Keeferson at the gates of Hogsmeade itself. From there, Tiernan used his portkey to just outside of Armagh , Ireland . Here, Tiernan met up with a few of his old friends – both muggle and wizard. Introducing Keeferson under his normal pseudonym as Arkady Chung-Lei, Tiernan immediately got to work schmoozing up his friends for information. Having Keeferson foot the bill (as the young Canadian was in fact holding most of the money between them), Tiernan managed to get leads on two smaller magical libraries they could hit up before the major one. The fact they had accomplished all this between the hours of seven and nine was incredible to Keeferson.

Tiernan could work an entire room in thirty minutes when he was motivated. And motivated he was, but not for the reasons Keeferson thought. It was only at 9:45am, right at the doors of the first library, that Keeferson realized the main reason why Tiernan rarely talked about Ireland : there was a lot of history Tiernan was trying to forget in the land he called home.

* * * * * *

“You do realize, MacCraddaugh, that the moment you pierce my clothes with that thing, I am going to stomp you into the ground of your birth and bury you under the biggest rocks I can summon. Get your little pocket knife away from my chest before I actually try to defend myself and snap your arm in seventeen places. You really want me to act the fool you took me for ten years ago? By all means, -push the blade that much more.-“

Keeferson was astonished. He had never seen Tiernan like this before. It was like watching a different person in Tiernan’s body dealing with the older man and the young woman he had with him. Still, it was not as if Keeferson himself had remained entirely idle. He had already figure out roughly how it would take for him to either draw his wand or a potion. Entirely too long, in his estimations, to be useful. However, it was far faster for him to reach the older man and bowl him over. Keeferson figured the man might be stronger than he was, but probably not able to withstand that level of force so suddenly.

“Tiernan Leekstone, I could impale you here and now in front of your young charge and not a person would say a thing. The lad here looks like he’d up and run off already if he wasn’t glued to the floor in terror. What, eh? What are those things he just pulled out of his bag?”

Tiernan smiled calmly at the man. The wand-wielding woman cast a spell at Keeferson to knock him over and out. All it did was flatten his hair slightly. Letting his control go, Keeferson stared at the woman with red eyes and squared shoulders. He was not trying to intimidate – he was setting himself up for a fight. In his left hand were foul vials of acid and one combustion formula. The dark-skinned goliath was unsure if he could throw the vials in time, but he was certainly going to try if this MacCraddaugh person actually harmed Tiernan.

“Those? Those are meant to remind me that Arkady’s not a runner. He’s not like Will O’Fairell, Iannath Moragsbane and Carlyle DeVandreil. I deal with people willing to stand by their friends now, MacCraddaugh. And this one’s as loyal as he is tall. Remember the tales you told your lads about `the sourdough scoundrel Liam Creidhne?’ Well guess what? I’m one of –his- now, and so is The Dark Tower. So then, MacCraddaugh, whitetail am I still?”

MacCraddaugh turned to the young woman who still had her wand trained on Keeferson’s forehead. Nodding to her twice, she lowered the wand. Keeferson lowered his arm, but still kept the lethal concoctions in his fingertips. It was only when Tiernan lightly batted him on the shoulder with a grin he put the acids and formula away. With an inquisitive look, Keeferson gestured to MacCraddaugh and the young woman with him.

“Oh, MacCraddaugh and my father have a long standing history of dislike, distrust, and general disrespect. Something to do with the fact they both wanted the same woman. So you know, she married some American and took off – after she took both of their wedding engagement rings. Forgot what the woman’s name is now, but apparently two of her daughters are in Beauxbatons – same year as you would be in Hogwarts, Arkady.”

Vincent “Iron Vice” MacCraddaugh took an appraising look at Keeferson once again. Standing up to his full height, he stretched slightly.

“Oh… so you’re one of Dumbledore’s lads then? Well, now it’d be one of Minerva McGonagal’s boys if the news is still the same. So you want to be a wizard, do you? We’ll see about that. Tiernan, I may actually not need to stab you through to your rotten little core if you’re toting around this chap. Might be far more amusing to see how far you two get.”

“Get?” This, of course, was a still very confused Keeferson. Looking between the two, he wondered if getting out his wand would in fact be a bad thing.

“Arkady,” Tiernan sighed out before regaining his usual swagger, “MacCraddaugh here is one of the lead librarians here. My father’s his mirror at the other library.”

“You mean…”

“That’s right, chapel brat – I’m a learned geek.”

* * * * * *

Three hours later, Keeferson had gone through at least seven books at high speed for references. Taking what notes he could, he was despairing finding anything useful on Neplusultra or any of the other spells. Though, Keeferson was forced to admit that he had learned more about elementalists and elemental magic in those three hours than he had in previous library runs.

The young lady who had been pointing her wand at him had also been studying quite a few books. He even had a name to attach to the face: Rígnach O’Esmond. Keeferson had been wise enough not to even attempt to mock her name. Apparently she was three years older than he was, and was on the hunt for a few “medieval magicks” herself. The MacCraddaugh Clan had been friends with the O’Esmond line for at least three centuries, or so Rígnach said. It was the reason she was able to check through the rare books without supervision. Keeferson’s excuse was the fact Tiernan had gone off to the library his father worked at to do a little catching up. There was probably more to it, but Keeferson chose not to pry. MacCraddaugh had said he was surprised there was a boy who liked to read from North America to begin with.

Keeferson wisely failed to comment.

Looking at the clock, he noticed that 12:45pm was coming around, and there still was no sign of Tiernan. Figuring he was going to be in this library for the full day, he turned to start putting the tomes away he already had opened. Seeing Rígnach on a ladder, he wondered to himself briefly as to why she wasn’t just summoning the books. Unlike Keeferson, Rígnach was quite familiar with the library itself. It was only when the ladder she was on slid dramatically in one direction because of the young woman’s positioning that he realized that moving quickly might be a good idea. Keeferson managed to catch the damsel as she fell, only for the pair of them to crash to the floor in a heap. Keeferson had the wind knocked out of him, but Rígnach was stuck staring into the strangest eyes she had ever seen.

When MacCraddaugh ran up the steps and saw the rather delicate situation that Rígnach and Keeferson had found themselves in, he laughed lowly. It was only when Keeferson saw the dark gleam in MacCraddaugh’s eyes that he realized something was horribly wrong.

“So then, lad. Trying to take advantage of the niece of my heart, are you?”

“What? Hey? Wait a minute! I just caught her falling off a ladder and-“

“Then you can easily explain why your hands are where they are, laddie boy.”

Keeferson looked down. His hands were in fact at Rígnach’s waist and hip in a rather intimate hold. To her credit, the young Irish damsel had buried her face into Keeferson’s shoulder. Laughing silently, she was turning shades of red she had forgotten existed. Keeferson looked like a rabbit in someone’s headlights.

“So then, to prove your worth as a man and to not dishonour the MacCraddaugh clan, I take it you’ll be marrying her on the morrow, won’t you?”

The choking noises Keeferson was making was the best he could get to a response. The whimpering noises the wayward Hufflepuff could hear was from the young woman in her arms. And the only thing Keeferson could think of was: “Tiernan, where the HELL are you?”

Fifteen minutes passed, while MacCraddaugh calmly planned out Keeferson’s shotgun wedding verbally. Fifteen minutes of Keeferson – still on the floor on his back with Rígnach’s face hidden between her hair and his shoulder – just watching the middle aged gentleman plot out his future for the next fifteen years. This was including how many children the pair would have, the careers that Keeferson would have to look into, and how much Keeferson would be spending on the ring. Fifteen long minutes of Keeferson’s life that he could break down into their individual nine hundred seconds.

In short, Keeferson was doomed.

Suddenly the lights in the entire place went out. Rígnach took her chance and scurried off of Keeferson's prone form and towards where she knew the desks were. Finding her bearings, she took out her wand to try to cast a light spell, only for it to fail miserably. As for the Canuck in the room? All Keeferson knew was a hand on his shoulder and a weird pulling sensation. The moment he could see again, Tiernan was there scowling at him.

“Keef, lad… what the blazes did you do?”

* * * * * *

Back at the Eolas Le Laomthacht Library, MacCraddaugh was dying of laughter, while Rígnach’s rage was unbound. If she had been any angrier, she would have started setting fire to the books... instead of pounding his back with the largest book she could get her hands on. (Incidentally, it was a cookbook.) In at least two languages, Rígnach was berating MacCraddaugh for using her one moment of weakness to scare the living daylights out of both Keeferson and Tiernan.

MacCraddaugh was too busy howling in devilish humour to try to deny it. Not as if he would want to. He was going to enjoy sticking the screws to the Leekstone's patriarch the next time there was a meeting of the various librarians within Ireland. That... and he thought Keeferson would have made a fine addition to the MacCraddaugh Clan if someone could just have made him Irish...

_________________
One character thus far:
Ares Richard Keeferson, Hufflepuff Hardcase
Redefining "user-unfriendly" since 1976.

IC:

Commonly known, Ares Richard Keeferson was seen packing his things. To those whom asked, he stated he was going away for a week or two. As to the reasons why, he had mainly this to say:

"Well, not finding something I needed here. So, going to talk with a few people who can give me what I am looking for. Don't worry, I've sent the letters off to Acting Headmaster Snape, Professor Moody, my own Head of House Professor Sprout, and one even to Professor Flitwick. Left something with Professor Firenze and Professor Hagrid. Don't think Professor Firenze or Professor Hagrid are really going to approve of what I am doing but... there's not really much else I can do. So they've gotten the letters. I'll be back... in a week. Maybe two, but it should be a week. And no, you are NOT mailing me your homework to spell check for you. Edison Danvers in Ravenclaw is offering up cheap rates for that sort of thing."


OOC:

Stepping out of character for a week on the server. If I am online, then I'm there to catch up with friends. Please don't ask for me in-character, as he's not going to be on school grounds.

- mozeNWrate

_________________
One character thus far:
Ares Richard Keeferson, Hufflepuff Hardcase
Redefining "user-unfriendly" since 1976.