| Details for Runaway Mug |
| Summary: | Tiberius attempts to hone his skills with the Portkey spell |
| Date: | 1939-02-10 |
| Location: | Beryl Crabbe's Flat |
| Related: | — |
| Characters |
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Tiberius has spent the morning with his wand out, sitting at the dining table. His eyes closed, as he thoughtfully chews on a block of chocolate. Half of it's gone, as well as a hot chocolate that's half demolished. On the table? A cheap bit of silver, in the form of a pocket watch - And a coffee mug. It's the mug that has his attention though - Wand gestured at it, the movement researched carefully. "Portus." He states simply, calmly. In the past, he's come so close that the magic /drained/ him, hence the chocolate. This time, he's not so lucky. It's obvious that the charm hasn't taken. "…. Fuck." He admits. hanging his head for a moment. Another square of chocolate. A deep breath. Practice. Calm, Tiberius. This magic takes YEARS for some wizards to master.
Beryl has - and undoubtedly always will - regret the fact that she hasn't got a house elf to deal with the chores around her apartment. She never learned the charms for doing house work properly in school, either. They were uninteresting to her, to say the least.
Puttering around, straightening things out at random and cleaning hither and yon has allowed the woman the leisure to observe Tiberius in his work. Up until now, she's stayed largely quiet from the sidelines, not wishing to breach his concentration. However, noticing his disappointment with his latest attempt, she passes by and leans over to place her hand on his shoulder from behind. A quick kiss is brushed against his cheek, and she says encouragingly: "Keep at it, love. You know I have faith in you."
Failure is harder to deal with when someone you love is watching. Tiberius turns, and smiles to Beryl, "Eventually. Need I remind you of the legal ramifications of getting this /right/?" He murmurs. Another square of chocolate is broken off, offered over his shoulder to her. After a few seconds, he turns back to the mug. And murmurs, "Portus." with a flick of his wand. The spell catches - The mug beginning to take on a brief glow, as the enchantment begins. Twenty seconds in though, the man falters, his wand falling and the mug falling still. A soft grunt of frustration follows. Another piece of chocolate. His eyes locked on the mug.
The chocolate is accepted with a cutely intoned: "Thank you!" from the woman, and she decides to perch on the back of the sofa for a while. Lifting one leg, she stays there, half-leaning or half-sitting as she pops the piece of chocolate into her mouth. Savoring it, as she does all the best things in life, Beryl falls into silence as she watches Tiberius' next attempt. Her gaze locks hopefully onto the mug as it takes on a warm glow, eyes widening a little. If only it could work…
But then, it doesn't. Her own shoulders sag a little, and she slips into a pout: "I'm sorry, Tibs - am I making it harder for you to work?" Beryl asks, willing to slip away if need be.
"Not even remotely;" Tiberius states, touching a kiss to her cheek. The man is exhausted. Probably too tired to keep casting spells that should be considered beyond him. But a mouthful of hot chocolate, he casts once more. "Portus!" Nothing. Tiberius sighs, and nestles into Beryl's side instead.
Beryl sighs as another failure occurs. When Tiberius nestles his head against her side, she can't help but brush her fingers through his hair lovingly with her free hand. "It's not your fault, Tiberius. You just need more time and practice. You'll get it," she says, as reassuringly as possible. Tracing her fingers delicately around his earlobe, she then smiles softly: "It's not like there's any great hurry, is there?" Perhaps a little overly innocent. She's not terribly bothered or worried about the fact that the man is trying to manufacture portkeys.
Tiberius is taking a breather, it seems with another mouthful of chocolate. "There is something of that. There's… One particular person I have /that/," A nod to the silver piece, "In mind for, should certain conditions be met." Chuckling softly. "But nothing that requires me to know it right this second."
The auburn-haired beauty glances down at Tiberius, her expression changing minutely. "You know," she says quietly, staying the movement of her hand as she speaks, "You worry me, sometimes." Alright, that's a bold-faced lie. Tiberius Tripe worries her a LOT, a good deal of the time.
"Don't tell me this has something to do with that particular Hit Wizard you're always crossing paths with. The one who's always breaking your bones." Here, Beryl gives a slightly beleaguered sigh. In comic books, having an arch enemy makes for a good storyline; but in real life, it is a tiresome, worrisome thing.
"Hit wizard? Constable Menzies is an MLE officer. She's promised to keep my name clear of the office… But I have this distinct feeling she plans to kill me." Tiberius chuckles to himself softly. "… I should have ended her, and tossed her in the Thames. Unfortunately, I thought it was a step too close to evil." He frowns as he admits it. "… If things progress too far, this will be the distraction that gives me time to plan accordingly.
A nonchalant little shrug of Beryl's shoulders is given here. She tilts her head a bit and glances off into the distance with a slightly darker expression than before. Susan doesn't sit well with her. "Whatever her right title is. She's nothing more than a petty brute as far as I can see. Why didn't she get herself a job as a bouncer in a club somewhere if she's so obsessed with physical brutality?" People like that have no business being officers, in Beryls' book.
"What /exactly/ are you planning with this?" She asks at last, narrowing her eyes at the objects on the table. Something is up, and she ought to be privy to the details.
"Getting her clear of the situation, so I can get myself clear and reassess. I'd considered having it transfer her straight to a volcano, but it wouldn't count for accidental use… Or errors of judgement." Tiberius frowns obviously. "I know that sounds optimistic. Even if my contacts come through for her, we'll never be friends."
"I don't expect you to be friends," Beryl remarks dryly in that silvery, cool little voice of hers. She has an airy way of saying she doesn't give two figs about the fates of certain people. "But I wish you'd stop antagonizing her, sometimes." She admits quietly, her delicate brow furrowing. "Going at her is like baiting a bull, from all you tell me. Or else, stomping on a hornet's nest that's fallen to the ground."
After a pause, Beryl shifts away slightly and leans down to plant a sweet kiss lightly on Tiberius' forehead. "I love you. But you drive me mad."
"I want nothing more to do with her. The game has escalated beyond the point that it can be won by either side." Tiberius admits. "However, it's not possible. So I must instead ensure that should things turn out against my favor, I don't lose my life as consequence." The man smiles, and strokes a hand along her cheek. "… Can't leave you and any potential… Additions, alone."
Beryl smirks and brushes her soft cheek against Tiberius with a tiny hint of a giggle: "So, we've graduated from the potential of one to the realm of plurals?" She asks playfully, toying with him a little. "If that's the case - You damn well better keep yourself alive, my beloved rogue." Might as well try to keep things a little lighter, considering the seriousness of the subject.
"… For you? I've gone from waiting to die, to preserving my own life." Tiberius notes, "I will keep myself alive, beloved. And keep you safe at all costs… Which means, this;" His wand is brought forward, a flick, and the spell is cast. "Portus." The connection is immediate. Strong. And he bites his lower lip as he draws himself into focusing. This mug WILL teleport. It has to.