paradisalogs | (no subject)

Who: James Potter and Emma Swan
What: James is stuck as a deer and looking for someone to help him out
When: Nowish
Where: Outside Emma's door.
Rating: PG?

There are a few things you just happen to expect when you grow up in a magical household. Unexpected, magical changes are one of them. However, one of the (many) things that James thought he had pretty good control over was his animagus form. Admittedly he hadn't gotten around to going stag while at the castle. He hadn't had a real reason for it, and had no reason to think something was wrong with his powers. Admittedly, he also hadn't figured out what his loss was yet.

So when he was meandering through the lobby towards the kitchen and suddenly found himself with some extra hoofs he didn't remember having a few moments ago, he wasn't completely surprised. A little alarmed that it had happened without him wanting it to, but still not alarming like it would be for most people that suddenly find themselves stuck in the body of a deer.

Unfortunately, no matter how hard he tried he couldn't seem to change back. So instead of standing around awkwardly and drawing attention to himself, he'd managed to charge up a flight of stairs, away from sight. He wasn't really sure where he was planning on going, considering wandering around the hallways stuck like this wasn't a lot better than standing in the lobby stuck like this.

It was by pure luck he manage to stumble across a room with the name "Emma Swan" printed on it. Less luck, however, when a good sharp kick to the door produced the loud "knock" he wanted it to.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

She's sorry, or at least she will be later. But right now this is amusing. In her head she thinks this is clearly some sort of loss. What else could it be? It's not like James could turn into a stag from the get go.

"Right." She opens the door further to let him inside. "Come on."

He's not sure if he wants to correct her on that point or not. It's not like he really at right now anyways, so instead of worrying about whether she understands how amazingly talented he really is (and he really is) he quickly hustles his way into her room.

He has to say, he's pleasantly surprised to see she keeps the room neater than he does his own. Admittedly that isn't hard to do, but it does make it a lot easier to walk around when your floor is half chocked with quidditch equipment and various books and potions ingredients.

Emma's never been a really messy person. She hasn't had enough stuff at any point in time for her honestly to be messy. And Henry is a clean kid, thank whatever god there may be, so it makes keeping everything tidy pretty easy.

She closes the door once he's inside, stepping around him to move further into the room. Well... what now?

That's an excellent question, Emma! Right now mostly James is going to find himself a nice, wide section of floor to walk over to and awkwardly lay himself down, legs tucked under him. He looks up at her, then looks over to her desk, them back at her.

If she's got some paper and quill... well... maybe a muggle pen instead, because a quill would be hard to grip in his mouth at the moment. It's not like he'll have much of skill in writing, but he can probably draw out a few letters.

The look isn't lost on her but it takes her a moment to actually figure out what he is... sort of suggesting. "Paper?" Yeah alright, she can do this. As ridiculous as the very concept sounds Emma heads over to the desk and grabs some spare paper and a pen.

Here James have some paper and a pen, that she is going to hold out for you.

"Hope you know what you're doing with this."

He doesn't have a clue, but he's not about to give up so soon. If this doesn't work out, he can at least say he tried. Well, say being objective here. He doesn't know when's the next chance he'll have to say anything if he can't figure out a way to turn back into himself.

He grabs the paper out of her hand first, taking a small chunk out of it with his teeth and lets it flutter to the ground in front of his feet... Good enough. He spits out the little bit of paper in his mouth and grabs the pen next.

Now he just has to... uh... that is... hmmm. Well this is going to be a lot harder than it looks. Moving the pen about in his mouth until the inky end is held out the side of it, he lowers his head down towards the paper, and tries to drag it along. He makes one large line and the paper starts shifting.

... Damn.

She has to stop herself from laughing at the image before her. A stag, trying to write with a pen. If only she had a camera she'd be half tempted to record this, only half.

"Hang on."

Being the ever nice person that she is Emma gets down on her knees, holding down the piece of paper for him. To stop it shifting. Don't say she's never done anything for you James.

He appreciated that she wasn't doing that. It's humiliating enough that he lost control of his ability to transform in the first place, the last thing he wanted was in caught on video. Plus there would be this whole set of questions on James' part about how her video recorder even worked, and he couldn't really asked any of those when he was like this. Especially considering he couldn't even seem to write at the moment.

He let out long suffering sigh, but looked up at her, dipping his head down once to thank her for helping out here. He didn't mind getting help from time to time, but it was a little frustrating how little he can do for himself at the moment.

Still with her holding down the paper he tried again. Dragging the pen slowly across the paper, trying to fit all the words onto one page.

Sad when you considered once he was done with is writing all he had managed to write out was one word "THANKS" in large, messy letters.

She'd argue that it is more than any other deer has ever been able to do, but that would be distasteful. Maybe. Instead she manages a smile before reaching over to give him a little scratch behind the ear.

Deers like that right?

"You're welcome."

Deers don't generally let people close enough to let people give them a scratch behind the ear, but James doesn't seem to mind all that much. He's not typical the type that likes to be petted, but not being the one to turn into the dog out of his friends he wasn't the one people put their hands on. Best to say he's ambivalent to it.

He nods his head a little, and drops the pen out of his mouth. He might want to write later, but there's no point keeping it there when writing is as much of a hassle as it is.