fatespoken | ∞ [ audio & video ]

[ There's a muffled thump, slap thump, thump, slap of small palms slapping against hard flooring. Paired with that is the sound of cloth sliding against wood, as Amory squirms and slides belly down on the floor. ]

The thumping continues until a large clatter breaks the momentum. Clatter, clunk, his communicator tumbles out of his pocket, snapping on the camera to reveal a small boy around six or seven. He's belly down on the floor, having been trying to slide his way out of The Blue Light without anyone seeing him.

One small hand extends to pick up the dropped item, and without knowing that the camera's even on, he grips it in his hand as he continues to slide across the floor. Amory squirms against the side of the bar, darting then under an empty table. A quick check of left and right in search of legs and other hard obstacles, and then he darts once more under a table.

He aims for another table closer to the exit, but this time he darts head first, nose first, actually, into someone's knees. ]

OW— [ A bit of stifled whining. ] That hurt.

[ooc: Action for any patrons/employees at the Blue Light; Network for anyone else. Replies will be from

tinymory. If anyone wants to be those legs he bumped into, you are well invited. For now though, it is a NPC. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[And suddenly, Ginny realises why the girl she spoke to over the network during that one weekend seemed so familiar to her. Amory had told the witch about Elisa once. Just once. That photograph curse, gingers, of course. She doesn't let any of the surprise or realisation cross her face, though, just keeps her smile.]

All the best people have hair like this, I reckon.

[Ginny raises her brows in question.]

D'you remember where you were before you wandered in here, Ams?

She looks like a carrot a lot.

I was playing with Charlie in the backyard. He's this huge white dog-- big enough that he could eat you, if I wanted him to! But now there's no one.

Carrots are good for you.

[That's a bit more like the Amory she knows, and judging by the broadening of her grin, she's more amused than fearful of this Charlie of his.]

I never had a dog, but I do have a brother named Charlie. He's got dragons to do the eating for him, you know. [Shaking her head, Ginny puts herself back on track.] Everyone who works here's really quite nice, so you've nothing to worry about. You'll be home before long. Is there anything I can get you while we suss things out?

They're disgusting. Even my father doesn't eat carrots.

My mom says you can find dragons hidden in mountains, but they blend in with the rocks if you try to look form them. Same with mermaids. I'm fine. She'll find me, she always knows.

Sprouts are worse.

[Said with a cheeky wink. The witch settles back on her heels, hands folded on the apron across her lap, resisting the urge to draw her wand to float her tray over to the bar. It can wait. It's not like Amory's in his proper age to say anything about it.]

Your mum's absolutely right. You've got all sorts, of course, and some blend in and others don't. The Chinese Fireball, for example - it's bright red, you can spot it right away. As for merfolk, well, I haven't seen one up close but I know they like to keep to themselves, so that helps.

[Pause. She'd like to ask if they exist in his world, but it feels like cheating.]

Well, if you stay in one place, she'll be sure to find you. Parents're really good at that sort of thing.

Like all green things.

My mom's never told me about a Chinese Fireball! You're making that up. ... I wish she would come sooner. It smells like too much beer in here.

Let's get up off the floor, then. Most beer ends up down here, anyway.

[She's laughing now. Go ahead and count freckles, Amory, she won't notice. Ginny's decided that talking about dragons is probably the best thing for now, anyway.]

I'm not! Charlie works with dragons, he tells me all sorts of things about the different breeds. The Welsh Greens are the most common where I'm from, and then you've got things like Norwegian Ridgebacks or Hungarian Horntails. They're rare, them, and bloody dangerous, too.

[Pause.]

You like dragons, mate?

How can I like something that I've never seen? That might not be real?

Just because you've not seen something doesn't mean it isn't real, Ams. How old are you, anyway? Thought kids your age believed in magic. Then again, I'm nearly eighteen and I still do.

[Ginny's got the broadest grin stretched across her face as she herself stands, brushing off her jeans. She's probably coming off as a bit mad, but she can't quite help the lightheartedness, the gentle teasing, the good-natured truth under it all. After a moment's consideration, the redhead holds out a hand to the boy, brows raised curiously.]

Right, well. Fancy a soda or ice cream, or something? I'm sure we've got some in the back.

Six. I'm six years old, already. Of course I don't believe in magic. None of that stuff exists at all.

Only if you have chocolate.

[Only if they're orange cats with squashed faces and candlesticks that light themselves. While floating.]

Only if there's chocolate? What other kind would there be?

[The smirk that crosses the redhead's face lacks the usual bite when it comes to one Amory Felix, and as she sets off to look for said ice cream, she pauses and turns back around. With one hand, she picks up her tray; the other just hangs down casually at her side.]

I'm just wondering. What would you do if you found out magic did exist?

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