Bitter Harvest
⬩.10/29/23, The Aftermath ☽☆☾ Hogwarts' Infirmary.⬩--
These enduring creatures may lie dormant, but are never truly dead.
@Meenauh Silmataurea
The blood was still warm. Adrenaline poisoned the body like rot in a creek. Their screams endured, even miles from the woods, even when their throats had been shredded to silence.
No sooner had the infirmary doors been breached with evidence of a outing gone horrifically awry, gossiping mouths began to spread reports of what they learned of it through the hospital wing's thin partitions: five students. Four with severe injuries. Possibly life-threatening- no, definitely life threatening. The fifth, remarkably fine. Word crept across Hogwarts' grounds just as the bleeding pustules in its forest did, and flourished just as intensely.
Ba-dum, Bad-dum.
A drumbeat pounded in sporadic rhythm, like the guiding of a nail to Xailah's temple; unrelenting in both force and persistence; an echo of the reaping carried out at the fall of noon. Each tap was determined to drive her to madness. The sore it bore would be a reminder of the sin she left to fester four new moons ago.
Ba-dum, Ba-dum.
For a time, she couldn't tell if it was the sound of her own heart that haunted her, or if it came from what little life resided in the chests of her felled companions. Even now she couldn't be certain, it couldn't be willed to stop. It laid the tempo to pandemonium: whispers; the acute clang of metal instruments; worn soles on bleached tile, and the clinking of glass bottles being shuffled through. All joined together to form a manic symphony.
Xailah clanked through the salves and bandages stored in a communal cabinet for the interns, swiping vial after vial away with a fixed sweep of her hand when she didn't find what she was looking for. In her peripheral, she watched as nurse assistants swarmed the injured like flies. A few interns made attempts to near her, but their efforts were rejected with an open clawed hand and a look just as uninviting. The ecstasy of an adrenaline-induced high had long waned, leaving her body to feed on the residual energy it left in fissures of her bones. It was an energy reminiscent of wrath, only without the sickening heat and the need to rip. It snaked around her muscles and gripped her chest, forcing her heart into the unpredictable beat of a irate animal's. The threats of the forest may have been a long trek behind her, but the fight was not yet over. Not by a longshot.
The spillways had been widened today, and she was Mother to their canals.
Before me, you rightly tremble. But, fear is not what you owe me. You owe me awe....
Stamina: 12 ~ Evasion: 17 ~ Strength: 2 ~ Wisdom: 16 ~ Arcane Power: 4 ~ Accuracy: 17
Student Account: Martyr Daeva-Lazarus
Bitter Harvest
“I cast a wide net in Hell for my brother.
I was both the person who held the net
and the bait inside it, my arms craning
back and throwing forward, letting
the string reel through my hands,
and holding it against the current
when it landed. The Hell he swam in
and his swimming and my pouring in
a kind of nourishment, and that,
whether good or bad.”
Dustin Pearson, Hell’s Wide Net
That was what she's been just reading a moment ago, and now she was running with her legs numb either from seating, or from fear, or from both.
That was what she's just been reading a moment ago, when a massive ball of fur — her favourite ball of her favourite fur — jumped onto her book and meowed in a way that her blood froze. She looked around for Xailah, and she was not there. And that meant only one thing, as she had never ever seen Schrö without Xailah.
That was what she's just been reading a moment ago, and at Hogwarts, she's learnt it well, Hell could've raised behind the next corner you were walking to. And she could've felt it, it did.
Every footstep that broke into a run caused her real pain, as she was carrying the cat, for some reason, but she could not think straight enough until she sees her girl safe and sound, or at least alive. She shuddered and flinched right in the middle of another staircase and stumbled, falling onto one knee, hurting the kneecap. But a kneecap was nothing to what must have happened.
The doors to the Hospital Wing were mere metres away, and Meenauh felt like her mind was already casting a huge Bombarda on them. Thank the saint Merlin, she remembered of her abilities to throw spells by just thinking about them, she managed to stop it to not cause destruction where it was least needed.
The doors burst open anyway, because the power with which she did it elbows-first was a bit extraordinary to her lean frame. It must have been Schrödinger's mass that allowed her to display upper-intermediate strength that she definitely did not have.
She let the cat down onto the floor as the first person she saw was Xailah. But somehow the relief just did not come. The relief was showing up late, it seemed, and still didn't come.
"Xailah!" she almost cried as she ran over to her, seizing her friend into a trembling embrace.
"Are you alright? Schrödinger came alone, I thought... I thought you are..." she just couldn't finish it, the shock mixed with genuine fright still clearly visible on her face.
She was not yet seeing what was going on around, as the world only existed in that embrace.
I was both the person who held the net
and the bait inside it, my arms craning
back and throwing forward, letting
the string reel through my hands,
and holding it against the current
when it landed. The Hell he swam in
and his swimming and my pouring in
a kind of nourishment, and that,
whether good or bad.”
Dustin Pearson, Hell’s Wide Net
That was what she's been just reading a moment ago, and now she was running with her legs numb either from seating, or from fear, or from both.
That was what she's just been reading a moment ago, when a massive ball of fur — her favourite ball of her favourite fur — jumped onto her book and meowed in a way that her blood froze. She looked around for Xailah, and she was not there. And that meant only one thing, as she had never ever seen Schrö without Xailah.
That was what she's just been reading a moment ago, and at Hogwarts, she's learnt it well, Hell could've raised behind the next corner you were walking to. And she could've felt it, it did.
Every footstep that broke into a run caused her real pain, as she was carrying the cat, for some reason, but she could not think straight enough until she sees her girl safe and sound, or at least alive. She shuddered and flinched right in the middle of another staircase and stumbled, falling onto one knee, hurting the kneecap. But a kneecap was nothing to what must have happened.
The doors to the Hospital Wing were mere metres away, and Meenauh felt like her mind was already casting a huge Bombarda on them. Thank the saint Merlin, she remembered of her abilities to throw spells by just thinking about them, she managed to stop it to not cause destruction where it was least needed.
The doors burst open anyway, because the power with which she did it elbows-first was a bit extraordinary to her lean frame. It must have been Schrödinger's mass that allowed her to display upper-intermediate strength that she definitely did not have.
She let the cat down onto the floor as the first person she saw was Xailah. But somehow the relief just did not come. The relief was showing up late, it seemed, and still didn't come.
"Xailah!" she almost cried as she ran over to her, seizing her friend into a trembling embrace.
"Are you alright? Schrödinger came alone, I thought... I thought you are..." she just couldn't finish it, the shock mixed with genuine fright still clearly visible on her face.
She was not yet seeing what was going on around, as the world only existed in that embrace.
Meenauh Silmataurea | STA: 9 | EVA: 10 | STR: 2 | WIS: 25 | ARC: 14 | ACC: 13
Bitter Harvest
@Meenauh Silmataurea
Everything felt like a threat at the tail end of a high. Those last few seconds of cloudy numbness was the only comfort an addict could receive, before hyperawareness snapped around their heads with all the force of a steel bear trap. Heartbeats sounded like war drums; breaths, the hiss of a live fuse. Hogwart's walls constructed the illusion of a cage; and from crawlways, denizen drew out for spectation.
The sterile room screamed at the lioness with each decisive swipe of her paw. White and static sunlight breached the sound barrier, wailing like an emergency siren. Glass vials clattered between their translucent neighbors; each rejection pushing groups of them to the back of the cabinet in which they were housed. Fight hooked its eyeteeth into her palms; and it took a great deal of effort to not send each elixir shattering to the floor.
That restraint was the only thing that kept her from going for Meenauh's throat.
She hadn't heard the girl, but the sudden force at her back sent her reeling with thoughts of ambush. She spun to face her perpetrator, the burnt ends of her hair whipping the air with the scent of heavy smoke. Face to face, the dark tresses coiled. Her form sharpened to the rigidity of a knife; with expectation of undergoing another fight. But none came.
Instead, awaiting with arms outstretched, stood her most dear friend.
And for a moment, Xailah was graced with normalcy. A breath of certainty in the dip of this unpredictable afternoon; a net to hold onto as she trekked hell. Her stature remained sharp, edgy, but her eyes softened enough to let Meenauh know she would not try to harm her.
A̵̹͙̥̪̾̋͛͠ŗ̵̭̈͐͛̕e̶̹̠̞͈̙͂ ̸̙̘͉̳̪͂͒̈́̒͂y̵̳̅̎ơ̴̢͉͎̅͊̔ů̴̦̩̳͉͇̀̓ ̴͎̍̈̔̅a̶͎̓͊̈́͂ļ̴̮͐̏̋r̴̖̺̝͋̑̀̚i̶͚̍̊̔g̵̢̘̤͋̐͝ĥ̴̨̤̦̳̇͊͝ť̵̲̮͚̬̫͒̓?̸͚͖̔̈́̀́͘
Meenauh's voice sounded like she was talking through wefts of thick cotton. Xailah blinked and craned her head slightly to one side. "What?" She asked, or perhaps she only mouthed it. It took a moment for the ringing in her ears to subside enough, to allow focus. Her eyes narrowed, concentrating on her friend's mouth. Schrödinger. His name came clear, and as her metallic gaze rose to meet Meenauh's wide oceans of alarm, she found understanding.
Concern was what spilt from from the younger girl's lips, and extended at the end of her arms. Comfort was what she sought: confirmation that, yes, this was her friend, yes, she was here, and yes, she was alive.
Xailah clasped her hands assuredly. "I am fine. Far better off than..." The others, she thought, finally finding the answer to the Mancunian's question. Her voice trailed to a dead end, unwilling to complete the declaration. "Schrödinger-" she cleared the building clog in her throat with his name, "-he made it back?" Peering around Meenauh's shoulder, she searched for signs of the beloved animal, only to have her attention brought to the cold infirmary tiles by his raspy meow. Her hand broke from the other Gryffindor's palms to collect the cat, before bringing him- and the girl- into a cumbersome embrace. "Den Göttern sei Dank." "Thank the Gods."
So much relief came out of so few words. Back in the woods, she hadn't even the chance to wonder if Schrödinger made it out. Knowing he was safe and sound, and yet still went for help from the most reliable person both cat and keeper knew, lifted a significant weight from Xailah's shoulders.
"You are shaking, are you alright?" The changeling returned her friend's question, holding the sixth year close with the arm unweighted by a cat. "You haven't seen anything strange on the grounds, have you? Nothing has hurt you?"
Before me, you rightly tremble. But, fear is not what you owe me. You owe me awe....
Stamina: 12 ~ Evasion: 17 ~ Strength: 2 ~ Wisdom: 16 ~ Arcane Power: 4 ~ Accuracy: 17
Student Account: Martyr Daeva-Lazarus