Is it still stmargarets birthday?

[girlyswot]

Charlie proclaimed himself completely stuffed after demolishing most of dogstar101's delicious dinner.

'Time to go, then.' Girlyswot raised a finger to attract the attention of Winewaiter!Albus. 'Have you got the portkeys ready?'

'They have all been slipped into pockets as you directed earlier.'

'Excellent. Can you activate mine and Charlie's first and then everyone else in ten minutes? We just need a few minutes to...' Albus's eyebrows rose suggestively '...get everything ready. Honestly, what is it with everyone assuming that all Charlie and I do is make out?'

'If the uncomfortable Regency corset fits...'

'It doesn't,' she told him firmly, rearranging her bosom just to make Gay!Albus feel uncomfortable in return.

He averted his gaze. 'Very well. We will join you in a few minutes.'

###

Girlyswot landed smoothly, safe in the circle of Charlie's strong, canon arms. She allowed herself a moment just to revel in his comforting presence.



'Here we are, then. Beaufort Castle, home of Clan Fraser. Did you get everything sorted out?'

'Think so. The pipe band are over there, and the Highland dancers are waiting inside to give us a display of sword dancing. There's a range of single malts for TDU to sample and plenty of black pudding ready to fry up for breakfast. I've checked all the charms - all the men will find themselves wearing clan tartan kilts, and the women will have plaids to put over their shoulder. Oh, and everyone will find that any injuries sustained so far will be healed, leaving only the scars.'

Girlyswot looked down. Charlie was indeed wearing a bright red and yellow checked kilt with matching socks that showed off his spectacular calves. She had a matching plaid over her Regency dress. She couldn't wait to start reeling.

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[moonette1.livejournal.com]

Moonette showered and changed into something more demure – longer skirt and fashionable wedges, since her stilettos had seen better days. When would they start making off road styles? Because she wanted to be less concerned about appearance, she only took half an hour instead of forty-five minutes to do her hair and make-up. Then she left the bedchamber for a look around the castle. Will had brought her up three flights of stairs, so she was a little lost already as she started her exploration.

Perfectly in step with the parties, it didn’t take long for something to be amiss. Moonette thought she heard a groan as she passed by one of the closed doors. She stopped in the hallway and listened. Nothing. Then she backed up and put her ear closer to the nearest heavy wooden door. Sure enough, she heard it again. A gasp, then a clatter of something hitting the stone floor, some cursing in what she presumed was Gaelic (where was Hazel when she needed her?) then another low groan as if someone was in pain – a man, actually, as the voice was deep. Moonette paused. She didn’t want to interrupt something…uh…private. And the gasps and groans could certainly be due to a cause other than an injured man needing help.
Then he spoke, his voice thick with pain and a Scots brogue. “St. Margarets. Where are ye, lass?”

Moonette knocked on the door. “Excuse me…Um…Is everything all right in there?”

“Who’s there?” The voice had changed – it was now laced with menace, and Moonette could hear a scrambling over the stone and another groan.

Moonette took a deep breath and pushed open the door, standing off to the side to peek in delicately. “I’m Moonette, a guest here at the castle. Are you in need of help?”

No answer. Moonette peered in a little more and saw where he was hiding, on the floor behind the corner of the bed. A trail of blood smeared across the stone to where he was, and a glint played off the blade of a dagger he held in his right hand as though he’d let it show just a bit out from the bed as a warning. “Where’s St. Margarets?” he asked.

[peverell.livejournal.com]

Oooo!