||[Oct. 8th, 2009|03:56 pm]
Last Resort RP Community
Being dead, once one has gotten used to it, is far from the most exciting or enjoyable thing one might do. In fact, it may be the least exciting, enjoyable, or, truth be told, stimulating in almost any way. One makes do, of course, but it is a condition with few redeeming points. All the same, he experiences a moment of petulance as he finds himself suddenly and without warning not dead at all, but very much...
Very much standing in a beautiful lobby, well-supplied with precisely the kind of Muggle light fixture of which he has always been so fond but has never been able, through one mishap or another, to get ahold of. The petulance smooths away, and it occurs to him that he should have stopped to dwell on the fact that he is alive, and not only alive, it would seem, but presented with as good a stage as ever existed for excitement and stimulation of all kinds.
He doesn't have his wand, but that doesn't bother him unduly. Fixing his half-moon glasses higher on the bridge of his very crooked nose, all the better to twinkle piercingly but good-naturedly at passerby, Albus Dumbledore prepares to be entertained, distracted, confused, or, for a start, simply told where he is.
"A fine, well-kept establishment," he observes. "I would very much like to give my compliments to the proprietor."
Typist: Albus Dumbledore, whom you might recognize from J. K. Rowling's Harry Potter novels.