Black PV Slytherin Participants Finished

The scene in the hospital wing was like one out of a horror movie. Children with slowly growing black wounds, coursing through their veins, lay one after the other in rows of beds, some crying inconsolably, and others gritting their teeth with grunts and gasps. Some weren’t moving at all. Flash had done what he could for the time being, he told Professor Jensen everything he knew, and helped take some of the students up to the hospital wing. Even though one of the blasted spiders had attached to him, he was able to avoid being bitten. He thought it would only be a matter of time, but at the last moment they were saved by a remarkably potent spell by Glen Pope.

Now that the students were in the hands of the capable staff, Flash could finally relax the tension in his body. He sat in a chair next to Opeila Seilun, slumping in it like he crashed down from high above. He didn’t let it get to him before, but he was exhausted. Not from carrying students, but from the stress of keeping it together. Never before in his life had he contemplated it could be the end, and the had tried not to while the spiders were attacking either. Still, he felt it in his bones. The magical world was full of things he didn’t understand, and had no capability of dealing with. He felt so powerless, it was the worst feeling in the world.

He should have been more prepared. He should have researched more. Well, he could say that, but there was so much to know. Even the older students and Professor Jensen herself didn’t seem to know what had happened. But Flash was supposed to be better. How many more books would he have to read before this feeling stopped? It was incredibly frustrating, not knowing everything. He had to re-double his efforts. Read books beyond the subjects he was being taught. He couldn’t relax.

Still, there were a few things he could leave to his classmates. Normally at this time of day he would be out jogging before breakfast, but even as therapeutic as running could be, he couldn’t muster the energy to even stand. Instead, amidst the shuffling feet and screaming students, he fell asleep.

Illowy was among those brought in unconscious; though that didn't mean she was in any less pain. In her state, though she was oblivious to the chaos around her, she was hyper aware of the searing pain wracking her body. It was worse then the touch cold, burning touch of the dementor, worse then being burned and stung by the flames at the Blossom Ball or the Masque. It was worse then being tossed around the woods by a werewolf, it was worse then anything she'd experienced in her short life thus far.

She'd lay still in the Hospital wing's bed, but her mind was thrashing, begging for some level of relief from the poison polluting her veins. Around each bite was blackened, spreading like a thick ink over her skin, turning it ashen. Perhaps if she wasn't so pale, it might not have looked so terrible, but it was almost as though each pale vein could be traced with the ink's assistance.

In some deep part of her, she wondered what was happening to her? What was this strange venom's purpose? Was she going to die? It certainly felt like death, and arguably she looked touched by death as well. In an even deeper part of her, she nearly prayed for death; since at least if she could be awarded such a sentence, she would be relieved of the blinding burning that flowed it's way through every nerve and atom of her being.

Flash Holmwood was one of the two young men that carried Illowy Magnard into the Hospital Wing. He was being assisted by an upper classman that he did not know but he had seen around the dorms. A fifth year perhaps? Illowy was one of the worst injured, her flesh had this marbled appearance. Her once fine, pale, smooth skin had darkened lines and splotches. Her skin felt cold, like stone but if she was awake she would feel as if she was burning up. 

Illowy's condition appeared... dire. 

The nurse, Fin VanCleaf would enter the Hospital Wing wearing a bathrobe and houseclothes. His affinity for fluffy slippers, something worthy of jest would have to wait for another time. "H-how? W-what?" He stammered as he looked at the injured students, some unconscious and those that were less fortunate wracked in pain. There were still more students coming, but Illowy was among the first to be carried in and of those there the most critical.

As it would be with the basic principles of triage, Fin saw her first. "Can anyone tell me what happened?" His voice seemed to have a tone of panic, he had an idea of what this might be. He would feel for a pulse, Illowy's pulse was present but thready and it took a moment for the practiced provider to find. 

"She has been cursed," he announced in a quavering voice. "H-how?" He seemed flabbergasted and perhaps a bit overwhelmed. It was a dark magic that afflicted the poor girl, one that might take her life. Without the correct counter-curse, all that could be done is supportive medicine but the poison was still spreading. Her flesh continued to darken. "G-get me some thick golden potion from the cabinet. The one in the back!" 

She should've stayed in bed. The nightmare she'd been having before a thump woke her up now seemed like a pleasant dream compared to the present. The present, with it's inescapable pain and the black stuff in her bloodstream and the fear. Maybe she was away from the Common Room where it had all happened, but Bridget's heart was still pounding, practically leaping out of her chest whenever she spotted a bit of fuzz or even just a trick of the light, terrified it was another spider, another thing sent to bite her and cause more pain.

Now, at the very least, she was in the Hospital Wing waiting for help to come, for the pain to be taken away. The small girl had insisted on not being carried despite how badly it hurt--she might've not been able to stop the tears, but she would not be so pathetic as to have someone carry her. They needed the unscathed students to carry the unconscious and the seriously injured, not someone who'd only been bitten once. And she had managed to walk most of the way on her own, leaning heavily on the wall, but an older student (NPC) had had to carry her up the last staircase. Bridget was still crying, the sleeve of her grey sweatshirt frequently coming up to wipe away tears, but for the most part she'd been able to choke back the cries of pain.

She was sitting on the edge of one of the beds, looking ready to bolt at a moment's notice. If she let her guard down, she was sure she'd be attacked again. Besides, it would be all too easy for a spider to hide under the blankets, and if she laid down, would she ever be able to get back up? Bridget was still unsure whether some of her housemates had died from the poison and was too afraid to find out. Nevertheless, not searching for answers left her wondering if she was going to die. The twelve-year-old was not ready to die, not at all.

Her right elbow, where puncture marks were visible, throbbed like mad. Had the brunette not been staring at the black veins in mesmerized horror, she probably would've thought her arm was on fire. The worst part, though, was that the pain wasn't limited to her elbow or even her arm. Instead, her whole body ached like she had the flu. No matter how she moved, she couldn't distract herself from the pain, couldn't think about anything else. The only tiny bit of relief was found in the fact Thora, at least, hadn't been bitten. Other than that, all she had was a dim hope the nurse would be able to stop the agony.

Some of Tyranni's fellow classmates were already in the hospital wing when she managed to get there. She sat down on an empty bed and tried to remember what had happened.

I remember dodging the table that was thrown by one of the boys. What's his name? I don't know. I need to find out. PAIN "Aarrggghhh!" the girl let out a shrill of pain, but was able to get the pain under control again. What happened next? Think Tyr, think. I remember falling to the ground. Laying down. Waiting for help. Did help arrive? Yes? No? Maybe? Are we all dead? Is this just a dream? No, of course not.

Thoughts continued to race through the girls mind as she attempted to sort out the events that occurred. Yes. I remember hearing Miss Jenson's voice. It floated through the air like a beautiful melody. It was as if it moved around the room in a delicate tangible energy. Confusion. Everyone seemed so confused.

"Breathe," she said quietly to herself. Tyranni closed her eyes. Inhale. Hold for a few seconds. Exhale slowly. Inhale again. She continued this breathing exercise as her mother taught her when she became angry, stressed, or upset. The thoughts began to slow down, but it was hard to focus with the pain still igniting every nerve, setting her body on fire as if the venom was the coldest liquid in existence, replacing the blood in her veins. What odd markings it makes, she thought as she watched the black lines continue to spread.

Nico wasn't entirely sure how she got here. Her eyes were puffy and red from crying. Bloody red smudges circled her eyes and had made a trail down her cheeks. Her once fluffy blue jacket was now covered in dark red stains. Since a long time, she could get a glimpse of her surroundings. It was light... spatious... This wasn't her bed. Where was her shark plushie... She felt so alone on the white clean sheets of what must be the Hospital Wing.

Those few seconds that seemed to last for minutes, soon turned dark once more. The pain in her arms and back pulled her down a dark spiral. She was back where she had been trying to crawl away from. Anxiously and still delirious, Nico rolled over and curled up, weeping loudly. She didn't want to. She wanted to calm down, but how could she. This stinging ink was running all through her body. It almost felt like fire. She whimpered:

'Stop it... make it stop... I'll do anything.... stop it...' Curling up her toes, she pinched her eyes closed. This line of oil that had been set on fire that ran through her veins. It was unbearable. When the answer to her prayers never came, she started to sob loudly again. It hurt. It hurt so bad. It was eating her up from the inside. Or it felt like it did.

'Make it stop! Mammaaa..! Ma..maah... sniffle'

The entire time, she'd switch between whipering and begging, screaming and wailing... Would this pain ever end? Was this what hell was like? Is this a punishment of some sort? But why? What did she do?

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word count 249 | text colour #274E13
abilities active terrible presence | status unconscious
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Of the injured Slytherins to be brought into the Hospital Wing after the fiasco of the common room, young Astrea was among them, unconscious to the world and wracked with agony even under the veil of the subconscious.

Unmoving upon the sheets of a made bed near a window, the heir looked more a doll than human with her ink hair burnt short spilling over the pillow and soot covering the top back of her clothes. Her naturally porcelain skin was cold to the touch and bleached of colour as black venom curled web-like maliciously underneath. Twice bitten, thrice attempted- one under the torn fabric covering her shoulder and another upon the top of her thigh- Astrea was hit particularly hard by the attack.

Her bad luck’s effect on her still chased her in her abyss of darkness, the drifting darkness of unconsciousness cut deep with trapped torment. Her mind was a forest caught on fire, the licking agony burning her thoughts to a crisp and leaving her with nothing else but the thickly draped pain. Within the endless black, her subconscious pleading desperately to rid the venom from her body, to rid the debilitating feeling from her form.

A cracking part of her wondered briefly if this was how she was to die, aged 12 and without a legacy to bear except for the one she was born with. Punishment of some sorts, a cruel mockery that dragged her entire being down in a viscous tar and quicksand.

Dan laid in a bed, staring at the ceiling. When he had come back downstairs to the madness, he had put the fires out, but managed to be bitten anyway at the last second. He had gotten off easier than most; he'd only been bitten once. But it, of course, was right in his chest.
He'd managed to get to the hospital wing, but the pain had only gotten worse. It eventually had gotten so bad, that not even the power of anime could keep him on his feet.

For about the 4th time, he stubbornly resisted the urge to ask the staff to give him something for the pain. There were others in the room who required immediate attention a lot more that he did. He'd seen on the Discovery Channel back home that if you were bitten by a snake, it was most important to remain calm. If you panicked, your heartbeat would rise, and cause the venom to move through your body at an accelerated rate. It was because of this, that he adamantly refused to look at his chest. If he saw the black splotch growing, it would probably make him panic, which would only make things worse. And if things got worse, the staff might be torn away from the others who were in far more critical condition.

The others got bitten more than once, and they're still alive. I'll be fine.

That was the thought that kept him calm. Well, relatively so. The pain kept slowly getting worse. Dan absently realized that his right hand was clenching the bedsheets. Then that all his toes were clenched as well. Then that his jaw was also clenched.
He did not know whether this was a good idea, but if they stayed clenched like that, he might pull a muscle, so he tried to force his various parts to relax. After about 30 seconds, he managed it.

Everything is going to be fine. The staff here are well trained, they know what to do. We'll be fine.

Mentions: @Nico Shymane

Arlo limped into the Hospital Wing as he clutched to the side of a student for support. (Perhaps @Jack Burnett) The scene before him was one of pure misery. Some of his house mates lay still in their beds, others squirmed and wailed as the pain tore through them. Whatever poison the spiders had injected into them was spreading. As Arlo paused to lift the pant leg of his pajamas, he knew it to be true. His knee was swollen, two angry red marks stood out where the wicked creature had bitten him. The veins turned black as the curse made it way through his bloodstream.

“Can anyone tell me what happened?” A voice broke through the panic that was rising in Arlo’s chest. He turned to face the adult that had just entered the room.

“We were awoken in the night,” Arlo began, a slight tremble to his voice. “A couple of students heard noises outside the Slytherin Common Room. The door was opened...and then the spiders came. They were all over us, but some of the others lit their wands and they just...vanished. Professor Jensen showed up and told us all to come here. Please, we need help.” Arlo would point to his knee as he concluded. 

“G-get me some thick golden potion from the cabinet. The one in the back!” The man gave his command. 

“Yes sir, right away!” Arlo turned and limped off towards the back of the room. He headed toward the first cabinet he saw, but his heart would sink. He stretched his little arms as high as he could, but it wouldn’t be enough. “I can’t reach it! Someone, please help!” He called out to whoever. 

“Make it stop! Mammaaa..! Ma..maah...” One of his house mates called out from a nearby bed.

Arlo shuffled over. She was far worse than him as the blood flowed from her eyes. The little gremlin couldn’t help but be terrified for her. Reaching up he would attempt to grab hold of one of her hands. “Don’t worry. It going to be ok. The man is going to get you a potion to make you better.” The boy had no idea if there was any truth to his words, but he couldn’t stand by and let her drown in agony alone. If she did not pull away he would squeeze her hand and begin to hum a soft lullaby.