poly_chromatic

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[ The feed turns on to flames in a patch of flowers, bright red in stark contrast to the healthy colour of the grass and roses about it, but they don't appear to be burning. Perhaps it's not a flame after all, but rather a particular head of hair - familiar to some, certainly - and then he begins to stir.

Up sits one Fred Weasley, bleary eyed and stretching with a yawn. He blinks a bit, taking in his surroundings curiously before noting the recording device and taking it with a vague sense of amusement. One more yawn and a lazy scratch of the back of his head, and then he speaks with a tired smile. ]

Not a bad place to kip, eh?

[ ooc; Fred returns to the City! He's just woken up in Xanadu, and he has no clue that he's been gone. This is completely open to 4th wall shenanigans of all sorts - only just don't tell him they're characters from a book, and anything from the age of the epilogue will be forgotten after the curse. I missed you all, and I love you. ;; ♥ ]

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When your family's not falling to pieces, maybe? When George isn't drinking himself into a coma in the shop - or Gin's not closing herself off from everyone in an empty flat?

[ He's getting upset. Dammit, why is he getting upset? ]

When I'm not - off being a completely useless twat in Merlin knows where? We still need you, Percy. We always need you.

[For a moment, there's something genuine written across his face: something like confusion and distress and a healthy dose of just not knowing, and loathing the fact that he doesn't, because he's meant to have all the answers and what good is he if he doesn't?

And then, as quickly as it's there, it's gone again, shuttered behind calm and distance.]

I felt I was doing the most good where I was. I can only do so much good hovering.

[ And for that very brief moment, Fred almost thought they might get somewhere. But of course not. They never do. They might never. So instead he laughs something bitter and turns away, covering his mouth with his hand and not crying, because he does not cry - before turning back with red eyes and a pointed finger. ]

You're a bloody idiot, y'know that? Completely and absolutely thick.

I beg your pardon.

[No, this isn't how it's supposed to be going; they're not meant to be fighting but he can't help himself. He always curls up into his protective shell and it always pisses Fred off. If he could stop, he would, but he doesn't know if he can.]

[ He'd rather a row than the silence from before. He'd rather have it out now before he loses the chance to say -- ]

You're our big brother! Our big, sodding twat brother - and we want you there even when we don't want you there.

[ And maybe that's true of more than just helping Gin and George grieve. Maybe anger and resentment and a string of foul expletives can only cover up so much of how much they wanted Percy with them when he was gone. They are Weasleys, after all. ]

I didn't know what to do! I couldn't help!

[And there's that blasted honesty tumbling out again, and he presses his lips together, crosses his arms over his chest uncomfortably.]

There's nothing to be helped, Percy! You can't fix this with Spell-O-Tape or file through it like paperwork!

[ Percy's folding on himself and Fred's exploding outwards, thrusting his arms out in frustration and speaking too much and saying too little. ]

We're a bloody family, just don't - don't hide from us. You ought to be with us, not ... huddled over some desk someplace where we can't see you.

[He doesn't wince away, stands straight, arms still folded tightly over his chest, hands clenching hard on his forearms.]

I've tried, but there's only so much I can do before it's just like trying to reason with a wall.

Oh, yeah, 'cos we're the very definition of reasonable.

[ Like reasoning with a wall always, Percy. That doesn't mean you give up. ]

I'm well aware.

[But he's so bad at it and he hates being bad at things; hates feeling like a stranger around his own family so it's so much easier to work and be productive than it is to hurt.]

oo1.

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