Magic Box, Sunday, 02/01

[not_every_mage]

When Anders got to the Magic Box today, a gremlin in a navy tricorn hat and one wearing a bird costume with a pointed beak were having a loud shouting match over ... something or other. (He couldn't tell what; he didn't speak gremlin, and frankly he wasn't terribly inclined to investigate.)

He cleared his throat loudly. They glanced at him with disdain and went right back to squabbling. As if to make a point, the bird one -- a hawk, that was what he was -- threw a pink plush pig at his behatted companion.

Having had enough of it, and trying to avoid a bite, Anders raised a hand and sent a bolt of lightning crackling toward them both. Singed but unabashed, they wobbled about in a daze for a moment before scampering off to the nearest vent and carrying on with their fight from the space above the ceiling. But hearing was better than seeing, so Anders was inclined to let them be unless they bothered him again.

"I think I'm rooting for the bird," Anders mused aloud, to no one in particular. "I've always liked hawks."

[OOC:Open shop, open post, terrible pun for which I apologize.]

By The Causeway | Sunday Morning

[shapethecentury]

The castle towering over the island did not get any smaller-looking when you made your way across the causeway and onto the island proper. This was what a certain Bucky Barnes was finding out right about now, as he trudged along with a bag slung over his shoulder and crumpled slip of paper in his hand. If anything, the castle only got more imposing. He'd known this random small town of Fandom wasn't ever going to be anything like Brooklyn or the rest of New York, but this was really something else.

He stopped, just to stand there and let out an impressed whistle.

"What have I gotten myself into?"

Steve was going to kill him if he didn't write back home about this place immediately, wasn't he?

[so open!]