Ready, Aim, Fire!

[Tilda MacFusty]

Please do not use this in the Daily Prophet for the sake of plot purposes. Tilda has been practicing knife throwing for quite some time and is always extremely careful whenever she practices.

Tilda loved the smell of the Hebrides. It smelled like home. Although her immediate family were going through many rocky situations, Tilda oddly found it a source of peace for her. She knew her parents looked at their nieces and nephews, and although they doted on them, were a little relieved that Tilda's life was less tumultuous, and of course by default, made their lives less tumultuous as well. The only thing mildly scandalous about Tilda was that she had become quite a skilled knife thrower in the recent years, which she knew was not a woman's sport in the slightest.

She was careful though, and knew she'd picked a good spot that was thick with brush. No one besides her family had known of or discovered this place so far, and she doubted anyone would really give a kneazles rear end. The littlest MacFusty had just set down her tools and started throwing at her targets, which were essentially bales of hay with canvas targets painted over them. She found she was getting quite good, and when she counted in her head, she would hit the target more often than not.

Holding her knife in her hand, Tilda would prep, pointing the knife where she wanted it to go, and then hurl it forward. Each knife she threw made a satisfying and resounding thunk! as it buried itself into the hay. Tilda rather enjoyed the knives' sleek swooshing sound as it ricocheted through the air. She was on her third round when she heard a faint rustling behind her. Tilda whirled around, knife in hand, muscles tensed as if she were prepping to throw it. Really, if it were another of her cousins trying to prank her or startle her again, they were going to get the kicking of a lifetime. Tilda was small, but she was quick, which she used greatly to her advantage. "Who's there?" she called fiercely. She found that the more wound up she was, the thicker her accent became. "Ah swaer, Tor....Dunny, if it's one of yeh....Ah knoe yer out there, show yerself!"

  

[Rasmus Mohr]

"I know that I don't walk like a MacFusty," Raz chuckled as he walked into view with his hands tucked in his pockets. He was really enjoying being in the Hebrides, and not just because he was spending a great deal of time with Rob. It really was nice being out in the Hebrides. Nice, and just a bit wild.

"So even the ladies up here have claws, is that it?" he asked. He liked Miss MacFusty well enough -- Merlin, he liked everyone he'd met in Rob's family, including the decidedly scary Mrs. MacFusty -- but it was interesting to think of a young lady throwing knives. "I'd better hope the lot of you don't decide to do me in."

  

[Tilda MacFusty]

Tilda was slightly startled to see Mr Mohr up in the Hebrides, though that surprise didn't last long when she remembered their run-in in the library. "Mr. Mohr!" she said, and brushed a lock of hair out of her face. Goodness, she probably looked a bit of a sweaty mess - and a great deal improper - but if he was to be friends with one of the MacFusty family, she figured he wouldn't be too shocked. And he'd already spotted her, so she didn't try hiding the knives. "Ah suppoes so. All the MacFusty family at once is a certain sight t'see. If Ah weren't part of it, Ah'd be scared t'death." she said, and couldn't help but smile at his handsome face. "Tho Ah'd appreciate it if yeh kept it quiet. At least at school, tha' is....Ah knoe we dannae know each other very well, but..." Tilda trailed off, and looked down at her knives blushingly. She didn't really know what to say -- the Ravenclaw boy seemed nice enough, though for some reason he made her blush a lot. Tilda didn't think it was a crush, though she was definitely attracted to him, and it made her wonder why.

  

[Rasmus Mohr]

"I understand completely," Rasmus said with a smile. He really did -- there were things that it was just best if people didn't know. Certainly Raz's sexual predilections were one of his biggest secrets, but he had others as well. The exact composition of his family, for example, or the fact that his mother was a veela. "I won't breathe a word of it."

He hesitated, then said, "I almost feel like I should take up some sort of ... something. I can feel Rob's brothers coming up with creative comments about my lack of weapons skill." Especially if they found out what Mrs. MacFusty now knew about his relationship with Rob.

  

[Tilda MacFusty]

His smile reassured her, and his words did even more so. The Gryffindor felt a rush of gratitude for the boy standing in front of her, and she gladly returned his smile. Giggling, at his last comment, Tilda adjusted the knives in her hands, and looked down at them. "Well..." she began, and looked once from the target, to the knife and back to Mr Mohr. "Ah could teach ye how t'throw knives. It couldn't hurt..."

In reality, it could, yet Tilda was fortunate enough not to have obtained many injuries from the practise. Most of it being because she was in a secluded place. "But, then again, mah cousin's might be moer impressed with ye if ye took up a sword and fought a dragon." Tilda chuckled, shrugging her shoulders and sitting on a bale of hay.