19 Jun 2020, 03:53
That One Fateful Night
It had been a little over a year since that one fateful night. The very night Howard’s whole life changed. A transformation of both body and mind. Gone was the pinkish flesh that once marked him human, in its place a lifeless gray hue. The pretty blue eyes he used to flash at the girls now burned a deep red to match his true nature. The boys visage had once been used to mask it. A handsome exterior to hide the beast within. Now, as if he had been turned inside out, his body now represented his true self. A natural born predator ready to claw and rip his own path through the world.Date: After the Professor’s Announcement.
However, as much as Howard was ready to fulfill his destiny, he was still very much lacking. His transformation was no accident. No simple situation of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was a bargain he had struck with those vile creatures that roamed somewhere within the bowls of this castle. A destiny that he had paid for in flesh and blood. He had gained the power that he so desperately sought. His muscles had hardened and both teeth and nail had grown into deadly weapons. Howard. Ow had the tools he would need, but the knowledge to achieve his place in the world still alluded him.
That is this very reason why he found himself back down in the dungeons of Hogwarts. With the school year quickly coming to an end, time was of the essence. It was here he had struck the deal that would change the course of his life forever. They had promised him the change and even gifted him a precious stone. A piece of him that was ripped from his body and transformed with their wicked magic. Tell it your secrets they said, use it to help fulfill your dark desires. However, nothing would come. Using a piece of black leather, Howard carried the stone with him everywhere in necklace form. Every night he would whisper to it, begging for guidance that would never come. Desperate for even an inkling of direction, he chose to trace it all back to the source.
“Please...I beg you.” Howard whispered to his stone as he slowly paced the halls of the dungeons. “I must know what’s next. I’ll give you whatever you want...please.”
@Thomas Lestrange
27 Jun 2020, 13:16
That One Fateful Night
The year was coming to a close. She had survived yet again the perils of these halls. Hungry half-giants and devious death witches; liars and shadow-beasts. And for a brief time she had it all. The delusion of happiness, the illusion of companionship and the daring, foolish hope that it was for her. Everything was a lie, less the fact that she meant it when she said it. That they were her friend. That she cared. That she was happy. Shame the circumstances were not as real as what she felt.
People were not worth the effort, at least all of the ones that she met. Their reasoning selfish or irrational, agents of chaos at best. She wandered into the deep darkness, she knew her way in the dead of night or in the searing light of day. Not that the shadows cared for the light. So she brought none as she ambled blindly, her footfalls and the quiet skitter were her only company. The creatures that thrived in the deep were made of night with form, curious monsters that had no interest in her or... Howard for that matter.
She would hear his voice, it reverberated a whisper. The part Veela's head cocked to the side. To the left? To the right" The left, of course.
His voice grew louder as she approached. She made no secret of her presence but also no effort to make herself known. She would come upon Howard in the underbelly of the castle. At least it sounded like him, she held her breath and studied him a moment if she was unnoticed. No, he did not look very much like Howard. Paler than she remembered, his skin used to be tan. Well, either tan or he had naturally darker skin. In truth she never cared enough to investigate. Taller also,not that she was ever taller than the third year, a fact that unsettled her. The paranoid young witch looked at people in terms of combat promise - could she beat them? What could they do to best her? Her gaze set on his limbs, not as awkward and spindly. Howard had a lankier, although he might have considered that barely adolescent form 'athletic', physique and longer hair. Brighter eyes, not that she was a romantic, but she was rather certain they were brown or blue, maybe green. Those looked...red?
If he had not taken notice of her, she would make herself known when she called out to him. "Does not work like that," she announced as she took a step towards him. "But I would toss that stone away," she warned as she took another faltering step before she decided to look around. Was this a trap? Were they alone? "You are about to find yourself in the middle of a war you're not equipped for," she continued until she breached the social distance bubble between them. Her eyes never left him,she was looking at him as if he was an odd bauble she had discovered at a flea market. "You...sound familiar?" There was an inflection of doubt in her inquiry. Was it her memories that were jumbled and confused
People were not worth the effort, at least all of the ones that she met. Their reasoning selfish or irrational, agents of chaos at best. She wandered into the deep darkness, she knew her way in the dead of night or in the searing light of day. Not that the shadows cared for the light. So she brought none as she ambled blindly, her footfalls and the quiet skitter were her only company. The creatures that thrived in the deep were made of night with form, curious monsters that had no interest in her or... Howard for that matter.
She would hear his voice, it reverberated a whisper. The part Veela's head cocked to the side. To the left? To the right" The left, of course.
His voice grew louder as she approached. She made no secret of her presence but also no effort to make herself known. She would come upon Howard in the underbelly of the castle. At least it sounded like him, she held her breath and studied him a moment if she was unnoticed. No, he did not look very much like Howard. Paler than she remembered, his skin used to be tan. Well, either tan or he had naturally darker skin. In truth she never cared enough to investigate. Taller also,not that she was ever taller than the third year, a fact that unsettled her. The paranoid young witch looked at people in terms of combat promise - could she beat them? What could they do to best her? Her gaze set on his limbs, not as awkward and spindly. Howard had a lankier, although he might have considered that barely adolescent form 'athletic', physique and longer hair. Brighter eyes, not that she was a romantic, but she was rather certain they were brown or blue, maybe green. Those looked...red?
If he had not taken notice of her, she would make herself known when she called out to him. "Does not work like that," she announced as she took a step towards him. "But I would toss that stone away," she warned as she took another faltering step before she decided to look around. Was this a trap? Were they alone? "You are about to find yourself in the middle of a war you're not equipped for," she continued until she breached the social distance bubble between them. Her eyes never left him,she was looking at him as if he was an odd bauble she had discovered at a flea market. "You...sound familiar?" There was an inflection of doubt in her inquiry. Was it her memories that were jumbled and confused
Just a trick of the lighting they said...
28 Jun 2020, 02:56
That One Fateful Night
It has been a long time coming. Any good natured melodies twisted away by corruptive indications, varnishing their respective tunes with sinister notes. Craving to this weakness, this inability to simply let go. The innocence still intact, but steadily chipped away with each act. Creating an indefinite connection to a power that dawdled its subjects on a string with these empty promises, aligning with the victim’s respective desires. Each driven by their own, whether it be truth, or power. At the core of this resignation? For Thomas Lestrange, it was fear.
The soon to be third-year Slytherin(2nd on paper) succumbed to weakness when he disappeared into the woods that evening over a year ago. The last human face he saw intertwined with his memories, and a fixture in his worst nightmares. Of course not as the source of fear, but a separate bystander that tediously traveled his own independent path. A boy faced with countless burdens, known to many as Howard White.
Upon his return, Thomas searched for him. Initially to no avail, Lestrange did not contain any sources to confide in the badger house. All that arrived from poking around was a warning from Ryan--Don’t go looking for him, you won’t like...what you might find. A warning he took with a grain of salt, a series of misunderstandings fueled Thomas to label the violet girl as no more than a liar. A true lead arrived in a run-in from a third-year Gryffindor, leaving Thomas with a peculiar profile that identified the boy as a Dhampir.
Fate would usher the reunion at a time with elevated stakes. Following the many travesties this semester, the school began a motion to lockdown any late hour theatrics, likely in hopes to limit the excessive casualties in the hospital wing. Or the snotty sense of entitlement that a student gains from slipping under the radar at will.
Lestrange was initially respectful of the new rules, though only to gain an understanding of patrol patterns. He would observe the school officials from a distance during the waning daylight hours, to identify if there was any consistency to their routes. Additionally to see if the patrollers of the neighboring dungeons could potentially be victims of persuasion.
Tonight was one of those nights, Thomas swiftly paced the dim stony passageways.The chilled air was a fixture in the underground dungeons of this castle, but the air was different on this night. A presence loomed that did not belong. A familiar voice spoke out, forcing Thomas to halt before rounding the corner. A voice he easily identified, only furthering his reluctance to intersect.
Thomas peered from the corner to confirm his speculation, the violet Veela approached a taller boy. Pale in color, lips parting to reveal a set of sharp teeth near the corners of his mouth. Eyes as red as the poster boy for legalize it. There was something familiar about the boy, but Thomas could not place it. In his fingers, he carefully clung to a stone necklace. The item Erin referenced, followed by mention of a war. Curiosity overpowered his gut feeling to continue avoiding the girl. Thomas carefully emerged from the corner in a defensive stance. “And you would know how it works, would you?” He questioned in a quisitive tone, not hesitant to challenge information the girl has dished. He tilted his frame carefully to square his left shoulder to the girl’s chest. Perhaps the violet girl derived enough retribution from the ill-tempered handful of confrontations to delay a pummeling of Thomas. Then again, it was not a matter of if, but when any form of pleasantries would devolve to physical aggression.
His eyes fell upon the boy in closer examination. “Have I--?” Thomas paused to recollect the information provided by the third-year monster hunter’s profile. The features aligned from the drawing, most notably the dhampiric qualities, confirming his fear of the boy’s turn. Not that Thomas was the discriminatory type, but the consensus to tread lightly from others provided a cautious approach. “You’re back.” His icy blue hues widened with the tilt of his head, questions surmounted that Thomas actively suppressed, hoping the story would be provided naturally. “Don’t be daft, Erin. It’s him. It’s Howard.” Thomas remained unmoved, allowing his defensive posture to ease up and erase any hostile indications towards the elder badger. “Been staying out of the sun, have you?” A subtle smirk played on his lips, a little humor to ease the tension. After all, Howard’s surname took on a fresh double-meaning. White as a ghost.
The soon to be third-year Slytherin(2nd on paper) succumbed to weakness when he disappeared into the woods that evening over a year ago. The last human face he saw intertwined with his memories, and a fixture in his worst nightmares. Of course not as the source of fear, but a separate bystander that tediously traveled his own independent path. A boy faced with countless burdens, known to many as Howard White.
Upon his return, Thomas searched for him. Initially to no avail, Lestrange did not contain any sources to confide in the badger house. All that arrived from poking around was a warning from Ryan--Don’t go looking for him, you won’t like...what you might find. A warning he took with a grain of salt, a series of misunderstandings fueled Thomas to label the violet girl as no more than a liar. A true lead arrived in a run-in from a third-year Gryffindor, leaving Thomas with a peculiar profile that identified the boy as a Dhampir.
Fate would usher the reunion at a time with elevated stakes. Following the many travesties this semester, the school began a motion to lockdown any late hour theatrics, likely in hopes to limit the excessive casualties in the hospital wing. Or the snotty sense of entitlement that a student gains from slipping under the radar at will.
Lestrange was initially respectful of the new rules, though only to gain an understanding of patrol patterns. He would observe the school officials from a distance during the waning daylight hours, to identify if there was any consistency to their routes. Additionally to see if the patrollers of the neighboring dungeons could potentially be victims of persuasion.
Tonight was one of those nights, Thomas swiftly paced the dim stony passageways.The chilled air was a fixture in the underground dungeons of this castle, but the air was different on this night. A presence loomed that did not belong. A familiar voice spoke out, forcing Thomas to halt before rounding the corner. A voice he easily identified, only furthering his reluctance to intersect.
"Does not work like that, but I would toss that stone away,"
Thomas peered from the corner to confirm his speculation, the violet Veela approached a taller boy. Pale in color, lips parting to reveal a set of sharp teeth near the corners of his mouth. Eyes as red as the poster boy for legalize it. There was something familiar about the boy, but Thomas could not place it. In his fingers, he carefully clung to a stone necklace. The item Erin referenced, followed by mention of a war. Curiosity overpowered his gut feeling to continue avoiding the girl. Thomas carefully emerged from the corner in a defensive stance. “And you would know how it works, would you?” He questioned in a quisitive tone, not hesitant to challenge information the girl has dished. He tilted his frame carefully to square his left shoulder to the girl’s chest. Perhaps the violet girl derived enough retribution from the ill-tempered handful of confrontations to delay a pummeling of Thomas. Then again, it was not a matter of if, but when any form of pleasantries would devolve to physical aggression.
His eyes fell upon the boy in closer examination. “Have I--?” Thomas paused to recollect the information provided by the third-year monster hunter’s profile. The features aligned from the drawing, most notably the dhampiric qualities, confirming his fear of the boy’s turn. Not that Thomas was the discriminatory type, but the consensus to tread lightly from others provided a cautious approach. “You’re back.” His icy blue hues widened with the tilt of his head, questions surmounted that Thomas actively suppressed, hoping the story would be provided naturally. “Don’t be daft, Erin. It’s him. It’s Howard.” Thomas remained unmoved, allowing his defensive posture to ease up and erase any hostile indications towards the elder badger. “Been staying out of the sun, have you?” A subtle smirk played on his lips, a little humor to ease the tension. After all, Howard’s surname took on a fresh double-meaning. White as a ghost.
@Howard White @Erin Ryan
We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful what we pretend to be
Stamina: 8 | Evasion: 7 | Strength: 7 | Wisdom: 8 | ArcPower: 3 | Accuracy: 7
Ability - Evasive Maneuvers 2x
29 Jun 2020, 04:05
That One Fateful Night
The sounds of footsteps would reach Howard’s ear as he pleaded with his stone for an answer. His first instinct was to turn and swing his nails wildly through the air in the direction of the disturbance like some spooked house cat. The best defense is an unstoppable offense some might say. However he would pause. One hand would drop away from the stone and come to rest at his side, palm forward with fingers flexed, just in case.
These parts of the castle had long housed an evil. Like a cancer it festered and grew as it slowly ate away at the purity of Hogwarts and like a disease most would do anything to stay far from it. One might ask, who then would come to such a dire place? Either those intent on eradicating it or those drawn to it, much like Howard. So, the teenaged Dhampir would turn and let fate take its course.
The blood red eyes would meet with her emerald as she stepped forward through the shadows. They would express a guarded curiosity as Howard quickly scanned her over. It would not be until the girl spoke that his eyes would pop with recognition. “Ryan?” The word spoken in a harsh whisper, barely audible as it was more for his sake than hers. Part of his mind knew that it was her while the other tried to reject the image before him. Gone was the jet black hair that used to mark her well, in its place a shade of violet. With it went the Mary Janes and old fashioned dresses of a girl from ages past. Much like himself, gone too was the childish figure. It would not be the visual reminder that would stoke his memories, as she had grown and developed as all people their age do, it would be the sound of her voice and as Howard took a sharp intake of air through his nostrils, her scent would register.
Before he could speak further, Erin would interject, first to tell him he was doing it all wrong and the second to request that he depart from his precious stone. The hand that still grasped it would squeeze a bit tighter as his eyes went from gawking in surprise to squinting in concern. Be rid of his most prized possession? Never! It was his connection to the crones, a symbol of the beginning of his destiny. The first of many sacrifices he would make as he tore down the dark path that would be his life. ”No..” His answer was simple.
Erin would next speak of war, causing a slight rise in Howard’s brow. It was impossible to deny that such a thing was in the air. The happenings at Hogwarts as well as the unrest and violence that was coursing through the magical community all but screamed that it would be so. Was this the purpose of his transformation? To turn him into a weapon for their dark desires? He had no proof that his turning was even connected to his deal with the crones, but you would never convince him other wise. Who was she to deny that he wasn’t equipped for such a fight. One swipe of his claws and he could tear her throat out and as she well knew, he wasn’t afraid of violence. It surely wouldn’t be the first time he had drawn Erin’s blood.
“I would have to disagree.” Another simple response as his hands came together before him, one nail clicking against the other. “And of course I sound familiar, Erin. It’s me...”
Howard’s head would snap to the direction of another presence as he took a defensive step backwards, his hand cocking into position. His eyes would widen with surprise for the second time. Before him was a face he had not seen since he left him in a drunken stupor on the shore of the lake. The very night everything changed. “Lestrange.” The slightest of smirks crossed his face. “Back?...Can’t come back to a place you’ve never left, Thomas. I would say that it was you that hasn’t been around. I’ve just been...busy.” Howard would provide no further detail nor inquire for any himself. Time was of the essence and fate had brought Erin back to him.
“Surely she knows, Thomas.” His eyes drifted back to Erin as the second year identified him. “I may look a little different, but no way she’ll have forgotten this.” Howard raised his right hand, a long index finger lifted into the air. Unlike the rest of his fingers, which ended in long and discolored nails, this digit had none, in its place a dark and ugly scar. His eyes locked with hers as he scanned them for recognition. Then Thomas would open his mouth once more.
Again, Howard’s head would snap back into his direction as a low hiss escaped his lips. The red of his eyes would burn bright as a flash of anger sparked through them. A fucking joke! Some slight towards him. Whatever friendly banter that existed between them was a long time ago. No longer would he tolerate any insults, no matter if they were meant to be in jest. With a couple quick strides of his long legs, Howard would close the gap between them. He would attempt to reach out and grab Thomas by the fabric of his clothing, pulling him in close. Whether or not he was successful would not change the words that came next.
“Very clever Thomas.” He would not raise his voice but it would shake with the anger that fueled it. “Now fuck off! Her and I have business.” If he held onto Thomas, Howard would shove him away, if not, he would simply turn away.
“Erin...the crones.” The name Erin had used to identify the Hags. “I must see them, take me to them. Tell me how to use this.” His hand would rest on his stone once more.
These parts of the castle had long housed an evil. Like a cancer it festered and grew as it slowly ate away at the purity of Hogwarts and like a disease most would do anything to stay far from it. One might ask, who then would come to such a dire place? Either those intent on eradicating it or those drawn to it, much like Howard. So, the teenaged Dhampir would turn and let fate take its course.
The blood red eyes would meet with her emerald as she stepped forward through the shadows. They would express a guarded curiosity as Howard quickly scanned her over. It would not be until the girl spoke that his eyes would pop with recognition. “Ryan?” The word spoken in a harsh whisper, barely audible as it was more for his sake than hers. Part of his mind knew that it was her while the other tried to reject the image before him. Gone was the jet black hair that used to mark her well, in its place a shade of violet. With it went the Mary Janes and old fashioned dresses of a girl from ages past. Much like himself, gone too was the childish figure. It would not be the visual reminder that would stoke his memories, as she had grown and developed as all people their age do, it would be the sound of her voice and as Howard took a sharp intake of air through his nostrils, her scent would register.
Before he could speak further, Erin would interject, first to tell him he was doing it all wrong and the second to request that he depart from his precious stone. The hand that still grasped it would squeeze a bit tighter as his eyes went from gawking in surprise to squinting in concern. Be rid of his most prized possession? Never! It was his connection to the crones, a symbol of the beginning of his destiny. The first of many sacrifices he would make as he tore down the dark path that would be his life. ”No..” His answer was simple.
Erin would next speak of war, causing a slight rise in Howard’s brow. It was impossible to deny that such a thing was in the air. The happenings at Hogwarts as well as the unrest and violence that was coursing through the magical community all but screamed that it would be so. Was this the purpose of his transformation? To turn him into a weapon for their dark desires? He had no proof that his turning was even connected to his deal with the crones, but you would never convince him other wise. Who was she to deny that he wasn’t equipped for such a fight. One swipe of his claws and he could tear her throat out and as she well knew, he wasn’t afraid of violence. It surely wouldn’t be the first time he had drawn Erin’s blood.
“I would have to disagree.” Another simple response as his hands came together before him, one nail clicking against the other. “And of course I sound familiar, Erin. It’s me...”
Howard’s head would snap to the direction of another presence as he took a defensive step backwards, his hand cocking into position. His eyes would widen with surprise for the second time. Before him was a face he had not seen since he left him in a drunken stupor on the shore of the lake. The very night everything changed. “Lestrange.” The slightest of smirks crossed his face. “Back?...Can’t come back to a place you’ve never left, Thomas. I would say that it was you that hasn’t been around. I’ve just been...busy.” Howard would provide no further detail nor inquire for any himself. Time was of the essence and fate had brought Erin back to him.
“Surely she knows, Thomas.” His eyes drifted back to Erin as the second year identified him. “I may look a little different, but no way she’ll have forgotten this.” Howard raised his right hand, a long index finger lifted into the air. Unlike the rest of his fingers, which ended in long and discolored nails, this digit had none, in its place a dark and ugly scar. His eyes locked with hers as he scanned them for recognition. Then Thomas would open his mouth once more.
Again, Howard’s head would snap back into his direction as a low hiss escaped his lips. The red of his eyes would burn bright as a flash of anger sparked through them. A fucking joke! Some slight towards him. Whatever friendly banter that existed between them was a long time ago. No longer would he tolerate any insults, no matter if they were meant to be in jest. With a couple quick strides of his long legs, Howard would close the gap between them. He would attempt to reach out and grab Thomas by the fabric of his clothing, pulling him in close. Whether or not he was successful would not change the words that came next.
“Very clever Thomas.” He would not raise his voice but it would shake with the anger that fueled it. “Now fuck off! Her and I have business.” If he held onto Thomas, Howard would shove him away, if not, he would simply turn away.
“Erin...the crones.” The name Erin had used to identify the Hags. “I must see them, take me to them. Tell me how to use this.” His hand would rest on his stone once more.
29 Jun 2020, 11:23
That One Fateful Night
When had Howard had become Gollum? Twisted from the form she once knew, now sickly and pale. And-- were those claws? No she did not recognize him, not at first but he knew her. Ryan, they were not really on a first name basis. They were not friends, she only had one of those -maybe. "Yes," Erin confirmed. He sounded familiar, but she could not place the voice with that form. Her first impulse was Kaegen Deathmote, the Ravenclaw deathwitch expert. However, he sounded nothing like him.
It was curiosity that compelled her, not compassion. Oliver had become the guardian of her beating heart. She had scarcely come to realize that she had either been followed or there was a second curious traveler in the deep. “And you would know how it works, would you?” The voice resonated, she heard the phrase twice in fact as the basement echoed his words a second time. "As if you don't," her voice was sharp as she made her reply. Yes, she knew that voice, it belonged to Thomas LeStrange. Professional, full-time resident Slytherin asshole. He had not been gifted a stone from his 'mother' unlike Mr. White, but she did not know that. Different covens, different means.
Get rid of the stone. Her warning was clear. As was his refusal -- No. She glanced at his 'precious' and the hands that held them. She was not nearly heroic enough to rip the stone from his claws and crush it to dust. He was a stranger to her, but had she been certain of his name she would be no more inclined to help him. If anything, her vindictive nature would have told him to carry on with her blessing. The guilt she had felt, that spark of sentiment she had gained towards him was trapped in that locket. She was safe from foolish want and unrequited feelings of friendship or a sense of closeness to someone due to shared circumstances.
"Have it your way," she replied. Unwilling to start a fight she lacked the want to finish. "You are about to walk into a war-zone," and who was she to stop him from dying. She asked who he was rather than what. The who more important than the how because it often explained the why.
...it is me. There was no spark of recollection in her pale eyes as she looked him over,waiting for that eureka moment. Thomas would be the one to say his name. It is Howard. For those that do not believe in the power of a name, it was his name that gave her reason to take a step back. For her eyes to measure the distance to the exits. Her heart never hastened, she never felt the icy grip of fear but only because she was incapable. She would never know the miasma of terror that accompany's the dark-creature's presence. She could not feel it. Some might celebrate this, call it 'immunity' but she saw it as a burden and a defect for this very reason. Fear is a tool. A means to know when she or what is hers is threatened. A sixth sense at times to tell her danger is afoot before logic can formulate the same truth. "You've changed," she announced stating the obvious. She tensed herself, uncertain if this meant combat or a tense reunion. The last time she had seen him, she had taken him down into the dungeons and to the crones. They wanted to meet Howard in particular, after all he was her inspiration. A request she readily agreed to, she had brought others before them and nothing had come of it. A sniff-- a bit of gibberish she did not understand and on occasion a small bauble left in their hands. They treated Howard different and she felt for the first time in her life regret.
She did not feel that regret now, there was nothing there. Just this void, a space where a heart should have been. But that did not mean that she had forgotten. "Thereisasecondcoven" she warned in a single word in case Thomas tried to stop her. Not that he understood the relevance but she was unaware of how deep his ties with the hag in the woods went. "And he is theirs!" She was referring to Thomas, her long bare finger pointed in the Slytherin's direction.
Was that why he was there? Had he come to hunt for the other coven at their behest. [Thomas - That can be true if you wish, this is Erin merely being paranoid but they would have been very interested.]
Howard was more aggressive than she remembered. Not towards her, but towards Thomas. Admittedly his taste improved. Not that it meant he would be any less towards her. It meant nothing beyond the fact that Howard had changed in many ways. She watched the verbal exchange between them. She had seen the dark nature in Howard, it was something she endeavored to stir up in him. She had no issue revealing what was always on Thomas' surface but as he grew and became stronger, his will was manifested through his words and his actions.
Howard demanded that she show him the crones. To show him how the stone worked. It was too dangerous. He would get himself killed. He would place the coven at risk. Although it was a wonder she had a desire to protect it, she chose to do so. "No." A blunt short reply.
It was curiosity that compelled her, not compassion. Oliver had become the guardian of her beating heart. She had scarcely come to realize that she had either been followed or there was a second curious traveler in the deep. “And you would know how it works, would you?” The voice resonated, she heard the phrase twice in fact as the basement echoed his words a second time. "As if you don't," her voice was sharp as she made her reply. Yes, she knew that voice, it belonged to Thomas LeStrange. Professional, full-time resident Slytherin asshole. He had not been gifted a stone from his 'mother' unlike Mr. White, but she did not know that. Different covens, different means.
Get rid of the stone. Her warning was clear. As was his refusal -- No. She glanced at his 'precious' and the hands that held them. She was not nearly heroic enough to rip the stone from his claws and crush it to dust. He was a stranger to her, but had she been certain of his name she would be no more inclined to help him. If anything, her vindictive nature would have told him to carry on with her blessing. The guilt she had felt, that spark of sentiment she had gained towards him was trapped in that locket. She was safe from foolish want and unrequited feelings of friendship or a sense of closeness to someone due to shared circumstances.
"Have it your way," she replied. Unwilling to start a fight she lacked the want to finish. "You are about to walk into a war-zone," and who was she to stop him from dying. She asked who he was rather than what. The who more important than the how because it often explained the why.
...it is me. There was no spark of recollection in her pale eyes as she looked him over,waiting for that eureka moment. Thomas would be the one to say his name. It is Howard. For those that do not believe in the power of a name, it was his name that gave her reason to take a step back. For her eyes to measure the distance to the exits. Her heart never hastened, she never felt the icy grip of fear but only because she was incapable. She would never know the miasma of terror that accompany's the dark-creature's presence. She could not feel it. Some might celebrate this, call it 'immunity' but she saw it as a burden and a defect for this very reason. Fear is a tool. A means to know when she or what is hers is threatened. A sixth sense at times to tell her danger is afoot before logic can formulate the same truth. "You've changed," she announced stating the obvious. She tensed herself, uncertain if this meant combat or a tense reunion. The last time she had seen him, she had taken him down into the dungeons and to the crones. They wanted to meet Howard in particular, after all he was her inspiration. A request she readily agreed to, she had brought others before them and nothing had come of it. A sniff-- a bit of gibberish she did not understand and on occasion a small bauble left in their hands. They treated Howard different and she felt for the first time in her life regret.
She did not feel that regret now, there was nothing there. Just this void, a space where a heart should have been. But that did not mean that she had forgotten. "Thereisasecondcoven" she warned in a single word in case Thomas tried to stop her. Not that he understood the relevance but she was unaware of how deep his ties with the hag in the woods went. "And he is theirs!" She was referring to Thomas, her long bare finger pointed in the Slytherin's direction.
Was that why he was there? Had he come to hunt for the other coven at their behest. [Thomas - That can be true if you wish, this is Erin merely being paranoid but they would have been very interested.]
Howard was more aggressive than she remembered. Not towards her, but towards Thomas. Admittedly his taste improved. Not that it meant he would be any less towards her. It meant nothing beyond the fact that Howard had changed in many ways. She watched the verbal exchange between them. She had seen the dark nature in Howard, it was something she endeavored to stir up in him. She had no issue revealing what was always on Thomas' surface but as he grew and became stronger, his will was manifested through his words and his actions.
Howard demanded that she show him the crones. To show him how the stone worked. It was too dangerous. He would get himself killed. He would place the coven at risk. Although it was a wonder she had a desire to protect it, she chose to do so. "No." A blunt short reply.
Just a trick of the lighting they said...
1 Jul 2020, 06:10
That One Fateful Night
"An idea, resilient, highly contagious." Once developed within the mind, it is hard to dismiss. Without recoil, it can begin to sprout other branches of thought. This is what arrived with the notion of companionship over a year ago. One idea that emerged over a friendly drink, before calamity befell a pair of boys. The restful waters of the lake overcome with their separate brand of chaos. But as ideas evolve, so do people. Where Thomas saw a potential rekindling of amity, Howard did not. Instead quickly declaring his indifference to the undeniable link the two shared. It was not a good start.
Thomas would offer no more then a piercing glare of disdain. One eyelid would twitch as he looked over the part veela. The girl who underwent a makeover during his bout at the cabin near the woods. With her lively visual enhancements arrived a loss of acuity. A shadow of the girl that would pick her victims apart with precision, and embody their feelings. Replaced with a soppy infatuation for those of little value, and brash reactive tendencies that bypass even a whisker of rational thought. Not to mention each breath of inconsistency that crushed any developing respect the younger Slytherin had for her. No, it was over between them. Thomas dramatically turned his head from side to side, as if looking around for another person. “Stopped chasing the gingers around, have you?” In other words, the many Parces'.
Howard declared he never left the castle. A fair point. It was Thomas, not Howard, who had gone AWOL. Not sighting the elder Hufflepuff was not a direct implication that someone was lost. Perhaps only someone that did not want to be found. Thomas would silently nod, still cautiously surveying the violet veela in his peripherals. Strong muscles underneath thin skin, like a small twig she would snap from any small jab. Thomas was more than ready for it, in fact he embraced it, but he would prioritize strengthening his chances. Beginning with his alignment to the other boy’s objectives.
Though an initial misstep, a simple attempt at humor was met with hostility. Howard displayed a flash of the fire that Ryan once sought after. The sharp fangs, claws, bloody hues, they did not deter the boy from his true nature, it appears they only enhanced it. Howard swiftly approached, closing the gap between the boys. Thomas did not retreat from his ground, as evasive as he may be, the dhampir boy outmeasured him physically. Howard extended his arms to grasp the Slytherin’s robes near the top of his chest, forcing Thomas’ feet to helplessly skid along the floor. “Easy…” Quickened breaths accompanied a soft plead. When fueled by anger, Howard was predictably ruthless.
Despite the appeal to antagonize him further, Thomas would prefer not to bathe in his own blood this evening. More pressing agendas beckoned the boy to stray from poking this bear. When Howard released him, Thomas would take a couple careful steps to the rear, raising open palms upward to express he did not mean harm. “Very well.” Good to see you too, dick. If Howard wanted alone time with Erin, so be it. Thomas was not one to impede the match made in hell. But before he could turn away, Erin made an announcement...
Then the basis of the conversation began to click, as Erin would poke the bear where Thomas would not. She insisted his inclusion, how sweet. But Thomas would play dumb, or perhaps he just is. “A... second? You do not know what I am, nor who I belong to.” The boy spoke sternly, giving her the side eye.
You too? Thomas’ icy eyes clung to the rock-like artifact the boy wore around his neck, like a general of cavemen. A sudden urge crept on the boy, one not of his will. Momentarily ensnared by this visual, twisting his thoughts as he narrowed his eyes at the stone. His lips parted, fingers trembled, toes twisting into the stone floors, ready to pounce and retrieve the stone...for himself? For his master? He could not be sure, but it was something he eyed far too long before Erin denied Howard’s request. Thomas regathered himself with a deep breath, eyes flickering up to Howard’s. “If she will not, I will. I know where they are.”
"As if you don't,"
Thomas would offer no more then a piercing glare of disdain. One eyelid would twitch as he looked over the part veela. The girl who underwent a makeover during his bout at the cabin near the woods. With her lively visual enhancements arrived a loss of acuity. A shadow of the girl that would pick her victims apart with precision, and embody their feelings. Replaced with a soppy infatuation for those of little value, and brash reactive tendencies that bypass even a whisker of rational thought. Not to mention each breath of inconsistency that crushed any developing respect the younger Slytherin had for her. No, it was over between them. Thomas dramatically turned his head from side to side, as if looking around for another person. “Stopped chasing the gingers around, have you?” In other words, the many Parces'.
Howard declared he never left the castle. A fair point. It was Thomas, not Howard, who had gone AWOL. Not sighting the elder Hufflepuff was not a direct implication that someone was lost. Perhaps only someone that did not want to be found. Thomas would silently nod, still cautiously surveying the violet veela in his peripherals. Strong muscles underneath thin skin, like a small twig she would snap from any small jab. Thomas was more than ready for it, in fact he embraced it, but he would prioritize strengthening his chances. Beginning with his alignment to the other boy’s objectives.
Though an initial misstep, a simple attempt at humor was met with hostility. Howard displayed a flash of the fire that Ryan once sought after. The sharp fangs, claws, bloody hues, they did not deter the boy from his true nature, it appears they only enhanced it. Howard swiftly approached, closing the gap between the boys. Thomas did not retreat from his ground, as evasive as he may be, the dhampir boy outmeasured him physically. Howard extended his arms to grasp the Slytherin’s robes near the top of his chest, forcing Thomas’ feet to helplessly skid along the floor. “Easy…” Quickened breaths accompanied a soft plead. When fueled by anger, Howard was predictably ruthless.
Despite the appeal to antagonize him further, Thomas would prefer not to bathe in his own blood this evening. More pressing agendas beckoned the boy to stray from poking this bear. When Howard released him, Thomas would take a couple careful steps to the rear, raising open palms upward to express he did not mean harm. “Very well.” Good to see you too, dick. If Howard wanted alone time with Erin, so be it. Thomas was not one to impede the match made in hell. But before he could turn away, Erin made an announcement...
"Thereisasecondcoven. And he is theirs!”
Then the basis of the conversation began to click, as Erin would poke the bear where Thomas would not. She insisted his inclusion, how sweet. But Thomas would play dumb, or perhaps he just is. “A... second? You do not know what I am, nor who I belong to.” The boy spoke sternly, giving her the side eye.
“Erin...the crones. I must see them, take me to them. Tell me how to use this.”
You too? Thomas’ icy eyes clung to the rock-like artifact the boy wore around his neck, like a general of cavemen. A sudden urge crept on the boy, one not of his will. Momentarily ensnared by this visual, twisting his thoughts as he narrowed his eyes at the stone. His lips parted, fingers trembled, toes twisting into the stone floors, ready to pounce and retrieve the stone...for himself? For his master? He could not be sure, but it was something he eyed far too long before Erin denied Howard’s request. Thomas regathered himself with a deep breath, eyes flickering up to Howard’s. “If she will not, I will. I know where they are.”
@Howard White @Erin Ryan
We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful what we pretend to be
Stamina: 8 | Evasion: 7 | Strength: 7 | Wisdom: 8 | ArcPower: 3 | Accuracy: 7
Ability - Evasive Maneuvers 2x
2 Jul 2020, 18:53
That One Fateful Night
No. Howard’s simple reply to Erin’s request. What was her reason for wanting him to be rid of it? It was she that had brought him to the Crones. Why would she now want to rid him of their gift? The stone was his connection to them. The first part of his body that would be transformed on his dark path of power, the rest to be finished later. Whatever her purpose for seeing it gone wasn’t strong enough for her to push the subject. Instead, Erin would again warn of war.
“About to?” Howard scoffed at her words. “Look around you Erin. The world’s going to shit. Their influence is spreading.” Howard had not experienced any of the happenings around Hogwarts. He was not there when the Slytherins were attacked, nor was he in his dorm when the Hufflepuff Common Room was blown to bits. It was as if the darkness had no interest in those already bound to it or perhaps, unlike he was now, Howard hadn’t done enough to seek it out.
Thomas would finish his introduction for him and as he said his name, recognition would finally flash through Erin’s eyes. A cautious step back, space was important for the pair that shared such a bloody history. She would comment, rather obviously, about his change of appearance. “Yes, Erin. Their gift to me. Whatcha think?” A wicked smile would cross his lips as he spread his arms wide in a mock pose.
It would be then that Thomas would make his joke and Howard would react. A pity that the teenaged Dhampir took such offense to the slightest crack at his new nature. Thomas and he most likely had a lot in common and only time would tell if the pair could find a peaceful middle ground. It would however give Thomas a peek at what makes Howard tick. How a boy with so much anger and aggression might even be considered sensitive, perhaps even emotional. How Howard’s violent gesture towards Thomas was just as much him guarding his feelings as it was an attempt to intimidate. How his obsession with finding his path in life was just a deep rooted yearning to be validated, even if he had to achieve it through fear and violence. A pity indeed, Howard could use a friend.
Another time maybe. For now Thomas would throw up his hands in a gesture of resignation. A willingness to just leave the other two to whatever it was they were doing. However, Erin was not ready to see the reunion end. She would blurt out her declaration. A second coven! One that claimed Thomas as their own. Howard’s eyes would snap back to Thomas as he took a long step back in retreat, his mind churning. The cloud of confusion was clearing. He thought the staff was just mistaken when they claimed of Hag activity in the woods. Did this mean that the events of the last year were tied to this fact? Howard had thought Hogwarts under siege by the Coven, but was it possibly just the innocent bystander that was caught in the middle? “Is this the war you speak of Erin?” Howard would ask over his shoulder, eyes remaining locked with Thomas.
As the boys stared each other down, Thomas would play dumb and Howard would make his demand. Such an odd occurrence. Here Howard had thought that Thomas was just another student among the many. How wrong he was. Thomas had been touched by the darkness just as he. It could be used as a bond, a chance to ally and grow stronger together. However, the darkness came from opposing forces. The impulse would flash through both of their eyes. A pressure to act that was not of their own making. A recognition of a possible truth. The pair just might be destined to destroy each other. Time will tell how deep the Crones wicked magic runs.
No. Erin would deny him the same way Howard denied her. A flash of anger would flare up within his belly. A grunt of frustration would be his first reply as he peeled his eyes away from Thomas and back to her. First she would deny him of his stone, now she would deny him audience and knowledge. Why! “What is your purpose, Erin? Why are you standing in my way? I have every right to seek them again.” He had no choice but to plead with her. Fighting her would do no good. Fear and intimidation didn’t work on one like Erin Ryan.
It would turn out that he might not need her after all. In a surprising turn, Thomas would offer alliance. Howard should have considered this offer with caution. The pair were aligned to different factions, but the chance to seek beings of such power was too much of a pull. There was no time to waste as they would all soon be shipped away. If Erin’s Coven would not see him again, perhaps he would find guidance with Thomas’.
“Very well. Take me to them.”
“About to?” Howard scoffed at her words. “Look around you Erin. The world’s going to shit. Their influence is spreading.” Howard had not experienced any of the happenings around Hogwarts. He was not there when the Slytherins were attacked, nor was he in his dorm when the Hufflepuff Common Room was blown to bits. It was as if the darkness had no interest in those already bound to it or perhaps, unlike he was now, Howard hadn’t done enough to seek it out.
Thomas would finish his introduction for him and as he said his name, recognition would finally flash through Erin’s eyes. A cautious step back, space was important for the pair that shared such a bloody history. She would comment, rather obviously, about his change of appearance. “Yes, Erin. Their gift to me. Whatcha think?” A wicked smile would cross his lips as he spread his arms wide in a mock pose.
It would be then that Thomas would make his joke and Howard would react. A pity that the teenaged Dhampir took such offense to the slightest crack at his new nature. Thomas and he most likely had a lot in common and only time would tell if the pair could find a peaceful middle ground. It would however give Thomas a peek at what makes Howard tick. How a boy with so much anger and aggression might even be considered sensitive, perhaps even emotional. How Howard’s violent gesture towards Thomas was just as much him guarding his feelings as it was an attempt to intimidate. How his obsession with finding his path in life was just a deep rooted yearning to be validated, even if he had to achieve it through fear and violence. A pity indeed, Howard could use a friend.
Another time maybe. For now Thomas would throw up his hands in a gesture of resignation. A willingness to just leave the other two to whatever it was they were doing. However, Erin was not ready to see the reunion end. She would blurt out her declaration. A second coven! One that claimed Thomas as their own. Howard’s eyes would snap back to Thomas as he took a long step back in retreat, his mind churning. The cloud of confusion was clearing. He thought the staff was just mistaken when they claimed of Hag activity in the woods. Did this mean that the events of the last year were tied to this fact? Howard had thought Hogwarts under siege by the Coven, but was it possibly just the innocent bystander that was caught in the middle? “Is this the war you speak of Erin?” Howard would ask over his shoulder, eyes remaining locked with Thomas.
As the boys stared each other down, Thomas would play dumb and Howard would make his demand. Such an odd occurrence. Here Howard had thought that Thomas was just another student among the many. How wrong he was. Thomas had been touched by the darkness just as he. It could be used as a bond, a chance to ally and grow stronger together. However, the darkness came from opposing forces. The impulse would flash through both of their eyes. A pressure to act that was not of their own making. A recognition of a possible truth. The pair just might be destined to destroy each other. Time will tell how deep the Crones wicked magic runs.
No. Erin would deny him the same way Howard denied her. A flash of anger would flare up within his belly. A grunt of frustration would be his first reply as he peeled his eyes away from Thomas and back to her. First she would deny him of his stone, now she would deny him audience and knowledge. Why! “What is your purpose, Erin? Why are you standing in my way? I have every right to seek them again.” He had no choice but to plead with her. Fighting her would do no good. Fear and intimidation didn’t work on one like Erin Ryan.
It would turn out that he might not need her after all. In a surprising turn, Thomas would offer alliance. Howard should have considered this offer with caution. The pair were aligned to different factions, but the chance to seek beings of such power was too much of a pull. There was no time to waste as they would all soon be shipped away. If Erin’s Coven would not see him again, perhaps he would find guidance with Thomas’.
“Very well. Take me to them.”
4 Jul 2020, 02:01
That One Fateful Night
“Stopped chasing the gingers around, have you?”
Another barb about Paracelsus, the boy with an incredibly common face that she had erroneously came to believe held some small amount of affection towards her. In truth, he wanted nothing to do with her. The Paracelsus she thought she had known was a completely different person in the most literal sense. It was a lie. He let her believe what she wanted to believe, never offering the truth and even played the role of paramour. That was the cruel thing about hope, what she would have been indifferent to became a tragic loss with just a glimmer of hope.
"Jealous?" His interested in her love life, or present lack thereof was notable. Not that there was an amorous connection between them, Thomas was the sort that would like be whatever he had to be to get what he wanted in the end. The part-Veela was, at least for a short time, the opposite. She just wanted... well, she wanted the impossible and the frivolous. She would become what she needed to be even if she had come to hate it. Erin made no move to protect Thomas, the career asshole he was when he antagonized Howard, not that setting off the ticking time bomb was very difficult.
He was about to walk into a war. A war he was not prepared for.
“About to? ...Look around you Erin. The world’s going to shit. Their influence is spreading.”
He was not wrong, the world they knew was crumbling but the rest of the planet would carry on. They were irrelevant in the bigger scheme. Their contemporaries, gone. Their names forgotten. As if their name was scrapped from the annals of this school, of this community, of the world at large. "I know," Erin answered. She did not sound scared but that was only because she was incapable. She should have been scared. She should have felt what she felt before, that need to run, that want to protect what mattered. She did not have to feel to act. In fact, it just meant that her ambitions changed.
“Yes, Erin. Their gift to me. Whatcha think?”
The hags had been busy. Had they done more than give him a stone? "They made you look..." her voice trailed off. His pallid complexion. His sunken, oddly-colored eyes. They had also made him look dangerous, he had the look of a predator with the thickened claws and that wicked expression. He wanted her to say dangerous, to stroke his ego and to validate his losses with the powers he has gained. No, she would do the opposite. "Sick," she decided. Infirmity. Debility. Everything the boy would scrape and claw to avoid.
She would approach him, not that moving towards him was in either of their best interest.
She blurted out a warning for Howard. A second coven. wayward sentiment perhaps that lingered. She did not want to see him dead even if he had a death wish. Even if the kindness would not be returned. People are in their heart of hearts selfish people, if their needs and wants are not satisfied they might take what they lack. Erin was no better or worse for that matter.
“A... second? You do not know what I am, nor who I belong to.”
"Neither do you obviously," she replied. "I saw you grovel and extol that crone," Erin replied. She was far from stupid when she had her wits about her, when her head was not full of cobwebs. When she was not distracted by the very thing she wanted. The very thing that Howard had dangled in front of her those years ago. "Howard has some pride, unlike some," she was playing on both of their egos. Howard sought power and strength, he had but one wish -- power. Prostrating himself before the crones in exchange for crumbs was a short-cut Howard might be willing to take, but the boy was rash, angry and volatile. Not the sort to stand down or take orders.
“Is this the war you speak of Erin?”
"With him," she let out a laugh. Who would have thought that Howard had a sense of humor. "No," she answered in case he was actually serious after her raucous laughter died down and then took another step towards him. "Hags..." she had to look up. Had he gotten taller or had she gotten smaller? She should have been intimidated, a known enemy and a wild card in the dungeons. Shame, nobody to hear them scream. "Exist in covens of three," she held her fingers up to show them this many, considering academics was likely not either's forte.
"Covens do not share territory," she explained as simply as she could. Like a pack of wild dogs, something either of the boys could be likened to if they could get along with another mongrel long enough to make a pack. "Pick the wrong side, you will be caught in the cross fire," if she was close she would rest her eyes on the stone around his neck. A macabre prize.
Her interest in Howard started in their first year. Shortly after she had her audience with the crones for the first time. Her father studied dementors, how they worked, what they are and how they lived. Despite his efforts, they were still more questions than answers. His interests had a consequence, her father was indifferent. Capable of mustering enough passion to produce Erin as well as his heir apparent, Geoffrey. That was where his passions of course ended, she was created and she lived even thrived. Her means were sufficient but there was no spark, no soul. She woke, she endeavored and she slept. She was fortunate in many ways, some only knew suffering. Her father had no anger, nor wrath but she also had no inclination to misbehave. She simply existed. Drained of what made her human or perhaps it never developed at all, she understood the concept of love and hate but never experienced either.
The hags let her take, it had become an obsession. An obsession to feel something, even if it was pain. It was better than nothing at all. The experience enlightening, people felt less than she thought. For the most part they were nothing more than cogs in a machine. Cogs or liars. They wrapped themselves in pretty words and smiles. They said they were happy when there was nothing. That they were in love when in truth it was simply tolerance, lust. It was Howard who gave her something to pursue those years ago -- he had not defeated her with the power of love, a memory of his mother, but rather fueled her ambition. It was the one time she had ever felt warm.
“What is your purpose, Erin? Why are you standing in my way? I have every right to seek them again.”
He did not try to extract what she knew by force, He knew that it would not work. Fear did not work on her, nor did pain. If anything, she would enjoy it. As sick and twisted as their relationship was, she needed to choose her words carefully - they could hear her. She wanted to tell him to run, ally with the victor. Bide his time. His chance would come. But they would hear that, they would know. They would find them. "Because they--" she took a pair of sharp breaths. "Are listening." She was referring to the stone, "it works one way. You speak, they listen. They know."
There was a reason that he had not heard from them. But he did not ask that question. "I value your continued existence," the most sentimental statement the girl could muster and have it be true. She was a lot of things, but killer was not among them. "Sleep and..." she was giving him instructions when Thomas in his impatience would move things along.
“If she will not, I will. I know where they are.”
She was going to tear that stone free from Howard's neck and run away. That was the plan. She looked over at Thomas,glaring daggers. The damn idiot! A prod perhaps, a bid for Howard in hopes that she would take the bait and lead the miscreant the the second den. Erin was not that stupid. She wondered if Howard was that desperate. She did not trust Howard enough to tell him more, to mouth a warning. To whisper a plan.
"Going to feed Aunt Petunia your boyfriend this time?" She remembered the name and she said it out loud. She used her name, she wanted the coven to hear. To know. The halls would groan, a distant shriek. "Let's go," she dared Thomas to show the way. Yes, lead Howard to the other coven of Hags. Howard would go willingly. Let Thomas dismiss the idea, bringing a war to the doorstep of his ladies would end in disaster. Then Thomas would be without allies. A neutered threat once again until he makes a pact with the devil or necromances himself an army.
Another barb about Paracelsus, the boy with an incredibly common face that she had erroneously came to believe held some small amount of affection towards her. In truth, he wanted nothing to do with her. The Paracelsus she thought she had known was a completely different person in the most literal sense. It was a lie. He let her believe what she wanted to believe, never offering the truth and even played the role of paramour. That was the cruel thing about hope, what she would have been indifferent to became a tragic loss with just a glimmer of hope.
"Jealous?" His interested in her love life, or present lack thereof was notable. Not that there was an amorous connection between them, Thomas was the sort that would like be whatever he had to be to get what he wanted in the end. The part-Veela was, at least for a short time, the opposite. She just wanted... well, she wanted the impossible and the frivolous. She would become what she needed to be even if she had come to hate it. Erin made no move to protect Thomas, the career asshole he was when he antagonized Howard, not that setting off the ticking time bomb was very difficult.
He was about to walk into a war. A war he was not prepared for.
“About to? ...Look around you Erin. The world’s going to shit. Their influence is spreading.”
He was not wrong, the world they knew was crumbling but the rest of the planet would carry on. They were irrelevant in the bigger scheme. Their contemporaries, gone. Their names forgotten. As if their name was scrapped from the annals of this school, of this community, of the world at large. "I know," Erin answered. She did not sound scared but that was only because she was incapable. She should have been scared. She should have felt what she felt before, that need to run, that want to protect what mattered. She did not have to feel to act. In fact, it just meant that her ambitions changed.
“Yes, Erin. Their gift to me. Whatcha think?”
The hags had been busy. Had they done more than give him a stone? "They made you look..." her voice trailed off. His pallid complexion. His sunken, oddly-colored eyes. They had also made him look dangerous, he had the look of a predator with the thickened claws and that wicked expression. He wanted her to say dangerous, to stroke his ego and to validate his losses with the powers he has gained. No, she would do the opposite. "Sick," she decided. Infirmity. Debility. Everything the boy would scrape and claw to avoid.
She would approach him, not that moving towards him was in either of their best interest.
She blurted out a warning for Howard. A second coven. wayward sentiment perhaps that lingered. She did not want to see him dead even if he had a death wish. Even if the kindness would not be returned. People are in their heart of hearts selfish people, if their needs and wants are not satisfied they might take what they lack. Erin was no better or worse for that matter.
“A... second? You do not know what I am, nor who I belong to.”
"Neither do you obviously," she replied. "I saw you grovel and extol that crone," Erin replied. She was far from stupid when she had her wits about her, when her head was not full of cobwebs. When she was not distracted by the very thing she wanted. The very thing that Howard had dangled in front of her those years ago. "Howard has some pride, unlike some," she was playing on both of their egos. Howard sought power and strength, he had but one wish -- power. Prostrating himself before the crones in exchange for crumbs was a short-cut Howard might be willing to take, but the boy was rash, angry and volatile. Not the sort to stand down or take orders.
“Is this the war you speak of Erin?”
"With him," she let out a laugh. Who would have thought that Howard had a sense of humor. "No," she answered in case he was actually serious after her raucous laughter died down and then took another step towards him. "Hags..." she had to look up. Had he gotten taller or had she gotten smaller? She should have been intimidated, a known enemy and a wild card in the dungeons. Shame, nobody to hear them scream. "Exist in covens of three," she held her fingers up to show them this many, considering academics was likely not either's forte.
"Covens do not share territory," she explained as simply as she could. Like a pack of wild dogs, something either of the boys could be likened to if they could get along with another mongrel long enough to make a pack. "Pick the wrong side, you will be caught in the cross fire," if she was close she would rest her eyes on the stone around his neck. A macabre prize.
Her interest in Howard started in their first year. Shortly after she had her audience with the crones for the first time. Her father studied dementors, how they worked, what they are and how they lived. Despite his efforts, they were still more questions than answers. His interests had a consequence, her father was indifferent. Capable of mustering enough passion to produce Erin as well as his heir apparent, Geoffrey. That was where his passions of course ended, she was created and she lived even thrived. Her means were sufficient but there was no spark, no soul. She woke, she endeavored and she slept. She was fortunate in many ways, some only knew suffering. Her father had no anger, nor wrath but she also had no inclination to misbehave. She simply existed. Drained of what made her human or perhaps it never developed at all, she understood the concept of love and hate but never experienced either.
The hags let her take, it had become an obsession. An obsession to feel something, even if it was pain. It was better than nothing at all. The experience enlightening, people felt less than she thought. For the most part they were nothing more than cogs in a machine. Cogs or liars. They wrapped themselves in pretty words and smiles. They said they were happy when there was nothing. That they were in love when in truth it was simply tolerance, lust. It was Howard who gave her something to pursue those years ago -- he had not defeated her with the power of love, a memory of his mother, but rather fueled her ambition. It was the one time she had ever felt warm.
“What is your purpose, Erin? Why are you standing in my way? I have every right to seek them again.”
He did not try to extract what she knew by force, He knew that it would not work. Fear did not work on her, nor did pain. If anything, she would enjoy it. As sick and twisted as their relationship was, she needed to choose her words carefully - they could hear her. She wanted to tell him to run, ally with the victor. Bide his time. His chance would come. But they would hear that, they would know. They would find them. "Because they--" she took a pair of sharp breaths. "Are listening." She was referring to the stone, "it works one way. You speak, they listen. They know."
There was a reason that he had not heard from them. But he did not ask that question. "I value your continued existence," the most sentimental statement the girl could muster and have it be true. She was a lot of things, but killer was not among them. "Sleep and..." she was giving him instructions when Thomas in his impatience would move things along.
“If she will not, I will. I know where they are.”
She was going to tear that stone free from Howard's neck and run away. That was the plan. She looked over at Thomas,glaring daggers. The damn idiot! A prod perhaps, a bid for Howard in hopes that she would take the bait and lead the miscreant the the second den. Erin was not that stupid. She wondered if Howard was that desperate. She did not trust Howard enough to tell him more, to mouth a warning. To whisper a plan.
"Going to feed Aunt Petunia your boyfriend this time?" She remembered the name and she said it out loud. She used her name, she wanted the coven to hear. To know. The halls would groan, a distant shriek. "Let's go," she dared Thomas to show the way. Yes, lead Howard to the other coven of Hags. Howard would go willingly. Let Thomas dismiss the idea, bringing a war to the doorstep of his ladies would end in disaster. Then Thomas would be without allies. A neutered threat once again until he makes a pact with the devil or necromances himself an army.
Just a trick of the lighting they said...
8 Jul 2020, 04:37
That One Fateful Night
The veela resorting to the lighthearted tone of implied jealousy was a positive sign for Thomas. Combined with the unpredictable and emotionally driven Dhampir, a few mean words and a bad joke could stain these dark corridors with the color of his blood. For the moment, Thomas would be appreciative of successfully simmering the boy, and the reception of the girl’s banter would only prompt a return of remarks. Not fighting words, just words. Anything to lighten the mood from three twisted minds that magnetized together for their own reasons. Be it power, acceptance, or truth.
At least there were not any ginger footballs around this evening.. “Of him, yes. Now that he’s free of you.” Thomas quipped. Howard and Erin would carry on to the topic of war, things going to shit, as if a pair of grizzled war veterans. Thomas would remind himself the pair may have seen things few have, but they did not understand the gravity of their circumstances. There is far more at play than Erin’s understanding. Thomas was intelligent enough(shockingly) to know that things are rarely what they appear on the surface. What he did know, was what he wanted. Not that his teetering off the moral compass did not provide repercussive mental demons. Serving up a pair of girls to his overseer produced daily cogitations on how far he was prepared to go to achieve his ends.
Erin had him cornered. His dedication to auntie may have been misplaced, but the delivery of his wishes(though false) has indebted him to the trio. In hopes for more answers, and the power to get his revenge, a loyal servant. Thomas hesitated to respond, blue eyes flickered over view Howard as Erin continued. She knew as well as Thomas, the side Howard elected would have the edge.
“Unlike you?” Erin preached about crones, multiple covens, and the number three. Prompting a blank stare from Thomas, as he considered Erin’s innocence. His eyes traveled past her, mind lingering on the choices fueled by misunderstanding. She was not a liar, only a fool, much like himself. From the moment Thomas returned, he attributed her declarations to be a string of spewed bullshit. Hinged on the validity of her relationship with hags. Her insinuation of a second coven in a separate location verified by Howard’s sparkly rock.
Ironically, his pride would not allow himself to admit faults. His relationship with Erin was not one he intended to mend, not today. All that would arrive was silent acknowledgement whilst the pair of elders continued their exchange. A rare flash of remorse arrived, as their voices muted, Thomas temporarily drifting from a conscious state in his reflection.
It was something the veela has said before, albeit not directed at Thomas this time. First in the hospital following a game of bookshelf dominoes. The second time the night of Thomas’ return. It was as close as the girl would come to saying I like you, and you are my friend. Thomas would not realize his glowering expression that formed naturally. With remorse came shame, but the following statement would assist in temporarily burying these thoughts.
"Going to feed Aunt Petunia your boyfriend this time?"
Thomas’ head jolted in the direction of distant shrieks, eyes fixed on the stony barriers that separated them. Beginning a brisk walk to the source of sound, turning back to Howard to beckon him along. “This way.” He would not motion to or glance at Erin this time, knowing full well she would not walk away from impending danger. Interweaved in the fabrics of her mind was a thin thread, a faint voice that clashed against her brutish veneer. It was the source of her motivation to look for Thomas when he was lost. To advise against Howard’s continued advances towards peril. To seek the foreign concepts Burnett provided, acceptance and affection. She was not so different, not as evil as the twisted interpretation Thomas had, but stubbornly refused to shake.
Thomas' steps would lead him to the end of a hallway where two large stone archways offered one path to the left, and one to the right. Peculiar how the foundations of this castle were seemingly built to accommodate the spontaneous token giant. Everything was larger than necessary for the student body that seldom traveled over 6 feet. Perhaps the early chronicles of this castle would reveal a time where the attendees were generally larger in stature. Thomas was not far enough in the History of Magic, nor comprehensible enough during class to know. Often elsewhere in the clouds.
In a shaky tone, he called out to the darkness for instructions on where to go. “Auntie...are you here?” Follow the shrieks of the creatures that were more likely to play hacky sack with his severed head than help him. But it was the Hogwarts way! Run towards the danger, not away from it. Otherwise you are a coward. If the shrieks continued, Thomas would follow them in a sense of desperation. Anything he could do to attain the next vision.
At least there were not any ginger footballs around this evening.. “Of him, yes. Now that he’s free of you.” Thomas quipped. Howard and Erin would carry on to the topic of war, things going to shit, as if a pair of grizzled war veterans. Thomas would remind himself the pair may have seen things few have, but they did not understand the gravity of their circumstances. There is far more at play than Erin’s understanding. Thomas was intelligent enough(shockingly) to know that things are rarely what they appear on the surface. What he did know, was what he wanted. Not that his teetering off the moral compass did not provide repercussive mental demons. Serving up a pair of girls to his overseer produced daily cogitations on how far he was prepared to go to achieve his ends.
"Neither do you obviously, I saw you grovel and extol that crone,"
Erin had him cornered. His dedication to auntie may have been misplaced, but the delivery of his wishes(though false) has indebted him to the trio. In hopes for more answers, and the power to get his revenge, a loyal servant. Thomas hesitated to respond, blue eyes flickered over view Howard as Erin continued. She knew as well as Thomas, the side Howard elected would have the edge.
"Howard has some pride, unlike some,"
“Unlike you?” Erin preached about crones, multiple covens, and the number three. Prompting a blank stare from Thomas, as he considered Erin’s innocence. His eyes traveled past her, mind lingering on the choices fueled by misunderstanding. She was not a liar, only a fool, much like himself. From the moment Thomas returned, he attributed her declarations to be a string of spewed bullshit. Hinged on the validity of her relationship with hags. Her insinuation of a second coven in a separate location verified by Howard’s sparkly rock.
Ironically, his pride would not allow himself to admit faults. His relationship with Erin was not one he intended to mend, not today. All that would arrive was silent acknowledgement whilst the pair of elders continued their exchange. A rare flash of remorse arrived, as their voices muted, Thomas temporarily drifting from a conscious state in his reflection.
"I value your continued existence,"
It was something the veela has said before, albeit not directed at Thomas this time. First in the hospital following a game of bookshelf dominoes. The second time the night of Thomas’ return. It was as close as the girl would come to saying I like you, and you are my friend. Thomas would not realize his glowering expression that formed naturally. With remorse came shame, but the following statement would assist in temporarily burying these thoughts.
"Going to feed Aunt Petunia your boyfriend this time?"
Thomas’ head jolted in the direction of distant shrieks, eyes fixed on the stony barriers that separated them. Beginning a brisk walk to the source of sound, turning back to Howard to beckon him along. “This way.” He would not motion to or glance at Erin this time, knowing full well she would not walk away from impending danger. Interweaved in the fabrics of her mind was a thin thread, a faint voice that clashed against her brutish veneer. It was the source of her motivation to look for Thomas when he was lost. To advise against Howard’s continued advances towards peril. To seek the foreign concepts Burnett provided, acceptance and affection. She was not so different, not as evil as the twisted interpretation Thomas had, but stubbornly refused to shake.
Thomas' steps would lead him to the end of a hallway where two large stone archways offered one path to the left, and one to the right. Peculiar how the foundations of this castle were seemingly built to accommodate the spontaneous token giant. Everything was larger than necessary for the student body that seldom traveled over 6 feet. Perhaps the early chronicles of this castle would reveal a time where the attendees were generally larger in stature. Thomas was not far enough in the History of Magic, nor comprehensible enough during class to know. Often elsewhere in the clouds.
In a shaky tone, he called out to the darkness for instructions on where to go. “Auntie...are you here?” Follow the shrieks of the creatures that were more likely to play hacky sack with his severed head than help him. But it was the Hogwarts way! Run towards the danger, not away from it. Otherwise you are a coward. If the shrieks continued, Thomas would follow them in a sense of desperation. Anything he could do to attain the next vision.
@Howard White @Erin Ryan
We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful what we pretend to be
Stamina: 8 | Evasion: 7 | Strength: 7 | Wisdom: 8 | ArcPower: 3 | Accuracy: 7
Ability - Evasive Maneuvers 2x
9 Jul 2020, 22:23
That One Fateful Night
@Erin Ryan @Thomas Lestrange
”They made you look...sick.”
Howard’s arms would drop to his side, the nasty smile on his face slipping away into a neutral expression, but his eyes would flare with anger. Not because he took insult to her description, but that she refused to validate his new form. The word sick would repeat in his mind a few times over. How many nights he had spent staring at himself in the mirror, marveling over his new existence. The once tan complexion that colored his youthful flesh now faded to a grey that could only be described as lifeless. The blue shading of his eyes now dyed a terrible red. It was his humanity that would be the price of the bargain, not that Howard was able to see it that way. What he saw was power. The power to instill fear in others. To dominate them with mere presence alone and the tools necessary to squash those that he couldn’t frighten. Who was she to describe him as sick? A word that was attached to being feeble and weak. One swipe across that pretty face...then she’d see.
As Erin approached, Howard’s hands would flex, his mouth parting as fangs slowly descended from the recesses in his gum line. Why put it off any longer. However her words would stay his hands as she warned of two Covens. Howard’s eyes would drift to Thomas. For the briefest of moments the pair would possibly feel the same impulse. To destroy one another for the sake of protecting the Crones...but why? As Erin and Thomas bickered Howard contemplated.
What purpose would the Hags have for creating two pawns only to just have them destroy each other? Howard had made a deal with the Crones but he had by no means signed up to be their soldier. He bartered for power in return for a piece of himself. They had taken a physical part of him for sure, but the real price was the sacrificial lamb called Howie. The very last of his innocence devoured by their unstoppable appetite and lust for dark magic. The price had been paid and the power gained. The power to forge his own path...not to lay his life down for the wants and desires of others. Howard would question Erin. Was Thomas the desired target of war this war?
The question wasn’t meant to be humorous, but it would warrant a fit of laughter from her. “I’m not joking, Erin. What do they...” She would interrupt his words with the explanation he sought as she came to stand before him. Hags work in threes. They do not share and they do not play nice. “The wrong side...” Howard repeated her words. So this was their intention. To war and use him as their sword? He must have an answer and again he would demand more knowledge from Erin.
Howard’s eyes would follow hers as she looked upon the stone he wore around his neck. The prized possession he held so dearly. The connection to those who had promised him so much. As she explained, his hand would reach up to grasp it, with ever word he squeezed harder as his face contorted into a grimace of anger. A listening device?! A way to know what he is doing. They told him to speak to it, to share with it and his path would become clear. With a swift yank, Howard would tear it from his neck, the lie coming into light. It was nothing more than a fucking dog collar! If he was capable of any rational thought, he might have asked for the purpose of the one way communication, but he was not. He would only see a stamp of ownership. Another symbol that he was not free to live life as he saw fit. Eyes set ablaze with fury, he was about to demand their location, but Thomas would offer to act as guide.
“Very well. Take me to them.” His voice thick with anger.
Erin would use a name...Aunt Petunia. The halls would quiver as a far away scream reverberated through the stones. They sounded angry. Thomas would begin down the hall before turning to beckon the Dhampir to join. He too would call for Auntie. Howard‘s eyes would leave Erin’s and look down the passageway before falling to the stone. His hand would raise to hold it just before his lips. “Yes...lets go see Auntie Petunia.”
Using all of his strength, Howard would crush the stone in the palm of his hand. The little bits and dust would float away behind him as he made to follow Thomas.
”They made you look...sick.”
Howard’s arms would drop to his side, the nasty smile on his face slipping away into a neutral expression, but his eyes would flare with anger. Not because he took insult to her description, but that she refused to validate his new form. The word sick would repeat in his mind a few times over. How many nights he had spent staring at himself in the mirror, marveling over his new existence. The once tan complexion that colored his youthful flesh now faded to a grey that could only be described as lifeless. The blue shading of his eyes now dyed a terrible red. It was his humanity that would be the price of the bargain, not that Howard was able to see it that way. What he saw was power. The power to instill fear in others. To dominate them with mere presence alone and the tools necessary to squash those that he couldn’t frighten. Who was she to describe him as sick? A word that was attached to being feeble and weak. One swipe across that pretty face...then she’d see.
As Erin approached, Howard’s hands would flex, his mouth parting as fangs slowly descended from the recesses in his gum line. Why put it off any longer. However her words would stay his hands as she warned of two Covens. Howard’s eyes would drift to Thomas. For the briefest of moments the pair would possibly feel the same impulse. To destroy one another for the sake of protecting the Crones...but why? As Erin and Thomas bickered Howard contemplated.
What purpose would the Hags have for creating two pawns only to just have them destroy each other? Howard had made a deal with the Crones but he had by no means signed up to be their soldier. He bartered for power in return for a piece of himself. They had taken a physical part of him for sure, but the real price was the sacrificial lamb called Howie. The very last of his innocence devoured by their unstoppable appetite and lust for dark magic. The price had been paid and the power gained. The power to forge his own path...not to lay his life down for the wants and desires of others. Howard would question Erin. Was Thomas the desired target of war this war?
The question wasn’t meant to be humorous, but it would warrant a fit of laughter from her. “I’m not joking, Erin. What do they...” She would interrupt his words with the explanation he sought as she came to stand before him. Hags work in threes. They do not share and they do not play nice. “The wrong side...” Howard repeated her words. So this was their intention. To war and use him as their sword? He must have an answer and again he would demand more knowledge from Erin.
Howard’s eyes would follow hers as she looked upon the stone he wore around his neck. The prized possession he held so dearly. The connection to those who had promised him so much. As she explained, his hand would reach up to grasp it, with ever word he squeezed harder as his face contorted into a grimace of anger. A listening device?! A way to know what he is doing. They told him to speak to it, to share with it and his path would become clear. With a swift yank, Howard would tear it from his neck, the lie coming into light. It was nothing more than a fucking dog collar! If he was capable of any rational thought, he might have asked for the purpose of the one way communication, but he was not. He would only see a stamp of ownership. Another symbol that he was not free to live life as he saw fit. Eyes set ablaze with fury, he was about to demand their location, but Thomas would offer to act as guide.
“Very well. Take me to them.” His voice thick with anger.
Erin would use a name...Aunt Petunia. The halls would quiver as a far away scream reverberated through the stones. They sounded angry. Thomas would begin down the hall before turning to beckon the Dhampir to join. He too would call for Auntie. Howard‘s eyes would leave Erin’s and look down the passageway before falling to the stone. His hand would raise to hold it just before his lips. “Yes...lets go see Auntie Petunia.”
Using all of his strength, Howard would crush the stone in the palm of his hand. The little bits and dust would float away behind him as he made to follow Thomas.