Clockwork ballerina requires assistance

[myironeyes]

[Voice, Private to Friends, at various points throughout the flood]

[He sounds both flatly mechanical and extremely disgruntled.]

Could someone please come...wind me?


[Spam]

[OR you can just come across Marsh in the hallways, in plain clothes with artistic joint articulation drawn on instead of his normal dementor-shroud, with a giant bronze key sticking out of his back, frozen in rigid poses, scowling while Aster hops worriedly from his head to his outstretched hand to the key and back again. Aster may also have tugged you to him by your hair with much cheeping and flapping.]

Comments

[myironeyes]

Erk. Yes.

Sorry about. The inconvenience.

[routemistress]

[Mother Ginger has had so many children, she doesn't always remember which of the soldiers are hers; so she treats all of them indiscriminately as her own, and Marsh has always been a favourite. She reaches up to drop a kiss on his forehead and brushes imaginary dust off his uniform.]

Don't be daft, sweetheart, who else is going to look after my brave lads? Now, 'ave you got a clean hanky and plenty of snowballs?

[myironeyes]

I'm not sure I can bend enough to make snowballs.

[Scowl of puzzled worry. Also, where are they supposed to get snow.]

We should. Find out.