Regulus Black (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
alt_regulus) wrote2009-10-04 06:51 pm
alt_regulus) wrote2009-10-04 06:51 pm
(no subject)
So, what am I to do?
I would far rather be chasing here and there with no time to think of anything beyond your deadline, than sitting here with so little to do but think.
You laugh.
So what have I done? Well, let's see. Today.
Bought The Prophet, milk, tea, biscuits, two potatoes, bread, and a cauliflower. Oh, yes, and butter. 1 galleon. Change.
Returned with parcels. Made tea.
Took tea and Prophet, sat out on steps. Read. Front page: MLE arrest Devonshire grandmother of thirty-seven as smuggling mastermind (cousin mentioned and brother). Wynne-Masters family move into lovely, refurbished New London home; more pictures, page three. St Mungo's report rise in birthrate over past six months (see feature article, Family Fortunes section, within). Within: Commerce (triumphs and trials, various articles).
Rain commenced. Retreated inside. More tea.
Moved stool by window. Watched. Nothing of note.
Continued paper. Keeping the Peace (public house curfews reaffirmed; calm in the camps continues; murder, mayhem investigated in several localities); Family Fortunes ('One Family's Gratitude for Repopulation Rewards Programme'); Social Whirl (parties, weddings, engagements, births, obituaries); Hearth and Home (recipes; housekeeping tips); My Prophet (classified adverts, astrologer's advice). Back page: weather, puzzles, Buckingham Week (a busy schedule ahead for you, I see).
More tea, moved stool to table. Found quill and ink. Worked puzzles. Failed.
Out to stationers, where bought ink, parchment, wax, blotter. 2 galleons. Change. Apples from stall. 2 sickles. No change. Met no one promising.
Returned. Tracked in muck. Cleaned floor, shoes.
Room dim and no candles.
Out to local chandlers. Listened to advice. Listened to weather. Listened to gossip. Tutted interestedly at second cousin's second daughter mixed up in dodgy ritual. Returned to advice. Selected beeswax. Standard weight. Alchemist's dozen. 3 galleons. Change.
Returned. Lit candle and cast brightening charm.
Letters. Mother. Mother. Mother. Cousin. School chum. Lover. You laugh.
Twisted firestarters. Laid fire. Lit it.
Letters. Mother. Mother.
Burned.
Mother.
Summoned elf. Sent it with letter to Mother. Rain continued.
Tuned wireless. Sorted clippings. Watched out window until dark.
Made tea. Cauliflower cheese. Toast. Ate. Missed elf.
It's a much better cook than I am.
How am I to accomplish what you've asked? I should chat up the neighbours, I suppose. There's a young woman who pushes a pram up and down the street in the middle of the day (when it is not spitting down rain). When I spoke with her--on Tuesday--she asked if I had children. Then she asked if I worked at nights or was it a day off for me. The conversation was brief. What was I supposed to learn from her? Whatever it was, I did not. Or not yet. Perhaps she will tell me more another time, but I suspect she's not a promising lead. Still, maybe she knows something. Maybe she doesn't even know she knows.
Was I really meant for this line of work?
You're not laughing, are you?
I would far rather be chasing here and there with no time to think of anything beyond your deadline, than sitting here with so little to do but think.
You laugh.
So what have I done? Well, let's see. Today.
Bought The Prophet, milk, tea, biscuits, two potatoes, bread, and a cauliflower. Oh, yes, and butter. 1 galleon. Change.
Returned with parcels. Made tea.
Took tea and Prophet, sat out on steps. Read. Front page: MLE arrest Devonshire grandmother of thirty-seven as smuggling mastermind (cousin mentioned and brother). Wynne-Masters family move into lovely, refurbished New London home; more pictures, page three. St Mungo's report rise in birthrate over past six months (see feature article, Family Fortunes section, within). Within: Commerce (triumphs and trials, various articles).
Rain commenced. Retreated inside. More tea.
Moved stool by window. Watched. Nothing of note.
Continued paper. Keeping the Peace (public house curfews reaffirmed; calm in the camps continues; murder, mayhem investigated in several localities); Family Fortunes ('One Family's Gratitude for Repopulation Rewards Programme'); Social Whirl (parties, weddings, engagements, births, obituaries); Hearth and Home (recipes; housekeeping tips); My Prophet (classified adverts, astrologer's advice). Back page: weather, puzzles, Buckingham Week (a busy schedule ahead for you, I see).
More tea, moved stool to table. Found quill and ink. Worked puzzles. Failed.
- 12D (7 letters). Alchemist's aid.
43A (14 letters). Transport in Transvaal.
65D (17 letters). Tourists's trouble. (Could be a phrase?)
Out to stationers, where bought ink, parchment, wax, blotter. 2 galleons. Change. Apples from stall. 2 sickles. No change. Met no one promising.
Returned. Tracked in muck. Cleaned floor, shoes.
Room dim and no candles.
Out to local chandlers. Listened to advice. Listened to weather. Listened to gossip. Tutted interestedly at second cousin's second daughter mixed up in dodgy ritual. Returned to advice. Selected beeswax. Standard weight. Alchemist's dozen. 3 galleons. Change.
Returned. Lit candle and cast brightening charm.
Letters. Mother. Mother. Mother. Cousin. School chum. Lover. You laugh.
Twisted firestarters. Laid fire. Lit it.
Letters. Mother. Mother.
Burned.
Mother.
Summoned elf. Sent it with letter to Mother. Rain continued.
Tuned wireless. Sorted clippings. Watched out window until dark.
Made tea. Cauliflower cheese. Toast. Ate. Missed elf.
It's a much better cook than I am.
How am I to accomplish what you've asked? I should chat up the neighbours, I suppose. There's a young woman who pushes a pram up and down the street in the middle of the day (when it is not spitting down rain). When I spoke with her--on Tuesday--she asked if I had children. Then she asked if I worked at nights or was it a day off for me. The conversation was brief. What was I supposed to learn from her? Whatever it was, I did not. Or not yet. Perhaps she will tell me more another time, but I suspect she's not a promising lead. Still, maybe she knows something. Maybe she doesn't even know she knows.
Was I really meant for this line of work?
You're not laughing, are you?
no subject
About the smuggling grandmother - her brother or yours? It's nothing to do with me, though I'm sure no one will believe either of us, least of all Bella. Pity the people shan't have access to whatever she was risking her life to provide, though.
Do you actually read horoscopes? Did not know that. All right. The one here for you says, 'Success is likely to be tied to your initiative, so don't just sit around.' (Mine says, 'Beware of making hasty bargains,' which is apropos yet ridiculously generic.)
no subject
Ah. The article mentions you as an evil mastermind behind some sea smuggling attempt up the mouth of the Irish Sea and another in Cornwall. Of course, your meant to be behind nearly every unsolved crime in this country. Probably you're the one leaving bodies about without their fingers and hands, though I don't think they've suggested you yet. You have a fetish for signet rings, then?
I read every word of every daily. Cereal packets, too. And adverts in shop windows. I'm a bit of a reader. S'pose you didn't know that, either.
That's a tricky one you've got for me. P'raps it means I'm supposed to spend more time strolling in the rain and chatting up young mums and shopkeeps. Certainly, it's little good just watching out my window. I had thought I might start riding the knight bus back and forth wherever it goes and chatting up the clientele, but at the moment it seems I'm meant to stick close to this little corner of the world and dig into all its grubby, insignificant secrets.
You did always seem inclined to be hasty. Rash, some have called it.
no subject
As for those ghastly murders, nope. I've not sunk to premeditated mutilations yet, thanksverymuch. In fact I've a sinking feeling I know who is behind those. Not that anyone would believe that, either. What d'you fancy would happen if I placed an anonymous tip with the MLE?
We managed reading in common, as well, then. But horoscopes? Really, I do find them entirely too convenient. Like tarot readings, they only serve to reinforce whatever you think you need to hear. Case in point, your neighbourhood watch project. What neigbourhood was that again?
Hasty? Me? Surely not. I prefer to think I know a good thing when I see it. Besides, the years have forced me to become a sight more patient. Thank Merlin.
no subject
I'll tell you my neighbourhood if you tell me yours. Then we could meet for tea. Yours or mine?
I'll let you read the tea leaves. If you're patient.
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And anyway, what's all this waffle about me not brushing hair or teeth? That can't be the reason you actually hung about with old Snivelly, is it? To make yourself look good by comparison?
Mordacious Morgana, Reg
I dunno why I bother--Oh, bollocks. Bugger off yourself, piker.
Order only
no subject
Teeth? Hair?
Oh, Kreacher's stories! Well. He really did tell them that way. Young Master Regulus had a handsome, heroic father and a tall, dignified mother, but they didn't figure too much in the business. He had to have a nemesis, I think, and that's where Kreacher put you in.
It's just stories, though. I always thought you were a bit of pirate, myself. Now, you'd look good with an eyepatch.
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Having a cup of tea and a biscuit. And reading what people have written here.
Oh! You mean talking to him?
No worries. It's not as dangerous as you suppose. He's my brother, after all. Maybe I can help bring him round.
no subject
What do you imagine you could possibly say? Don't waste your time, Reg.
no subject
Oh, I don't know. I don't suppose you can understand.
I won't pursue him, cousin, but if he pops up here, I won't run away from him, either. How's that?
no subject
And if you think I don't understand, you don't know me as well as you claim. I do understand the temptation, cousin dear, but believe me when I tell you the reward, in this case, is hardly worth the effort. Or the risk.
Nonetheless, I suppose brothers are different to sisters and you must salve your sense of pride. If that is your goal, then I understand it even less, but so be it.
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Shows he has good sense.