Faust PV Finished

@Vladimir Athanatos & @Marion Davenport

”Wait! Please, wait!” The Britalian was running as fast as he could, having dismounted Luciana and strapped the broom to his back in order to easily weave through the hall and avoid making more of a mess than was already readily available. He had had a hand in what had happened, and so he was going to do his best to make good; to fix what he had broken.

He watched as the tall Ravenclaw bashed the door of the Hospital Wing open, watched as he dropped her to the ground, seeming to say something before turning and making his leave. ”Where are you going?!” Piérre nearly screamed with a mixture of regret and utter fear. He didn’t want to be left alone, especially if he didn’t know what was going to happen. He didn’t want to face Marion... he wanted to help, he wanted to make her better!

But he had already gone, calling names that Piérre didn’t know. Names that could possibly be of help? The nurse. He could help to find the nurse... but if the taller boy was already looking for the nurse and for other people who could help, perhaps Piérre would be better suited to help in taking care of the victim before shock set in.

Swallowing and biting back a sob and some tears, Piérre carefully drew close to where Marion had been left, kneeling down and taking her hands in his own. “I’m sorry! He whispered, trying not to break down. “I didn’t mean to drop you, I swear! I... I should have caught you, I’m a Quidditch player, I.. I...!” A squeak left him as his voice broke. “Are you okay? Are... can you... Please, are you okay?” He was checking pulse, pressing two fingers to the inside of her wrist, watching her eyelashes for fluttering or blinking, anything which could betray an ounce of consciousness or awareness. There was no way that the fall that she had experienced could have harmed her so much. They had not even been more than twenty feet off the ground. That was a height that Piérre could have tumbled from without much issue and landed on his feet after a decelerating roll from. It would have hurt, but it would have been easy to recover from. She had landed on her back, yes, but that would have only knocked the air out of her... especially since she landed on someone else that had cushioned her fall!

They were in the Hospital Wing... could he pick her up?

No. He should leave her where she had been left. Don’t move a person after they’ve been placed, you could hurt them more if you moved them. Besides, she was a bit taller than him, and though she looked his same size, she was older. It was likely that she would weigh a bit more than he thought she should weigh I OOC know otherwise, but IC, the Piérre doesn’t know.

He was rocking back and forth on his knees, muttering gibberish under his breath, panicking in a frantic way, trying to comprehend what he could do. Just keep her steady... just wait it out. Maybe she would come around and forgive him. Maybe... maybe...

Mod Note: Piérre has brought his Moontrimmer, Luciana
He chooses to place his +3s to Evasion (+13) and Stamina (6)
He also possesses a 10% Auto-dodge rate

Statistics and Abilities
Stamina 6 | Strength 3 | Evasion 13
Wisdom 10 | Accuracy 10 | ArcPower 5

Keen Eye: 25% Chance to Spot something Important
Calming Presence: 10% Auto-hit Rate. Allies: @Piérre Marchonné, Romeo Marchonné, Hanzo Fransson, @Rafael D'Spacito, & @Marion Davenport

I'm too lazy to actually do art in an hour's time, and I'm working on the costume still, so have this image reference of Piérre's badass Mister L cosplay...

Reducio

Regular Text - English | Bolded Text - French | Bolded Black Text - Japanese
Interacting: @Selim Faust and @Vladimir Athanatos
Mentioning: @Maya Galim and @Marion Davenport

Permission granted to say that Professor Galim escorted them to the Hospital Wing and left

Madeleine was incredibly anxious as she filed out of the ballroom with Selim and the professor who had offered assistance. Professor Galim, she learned was her name. They did not speak much, perhaps all feeling the effects of the chaos that had just happened at the masquerade. Madeleine shed her mask as they walked, finding it cumbersome and knowing there was no longer any point to it. The evening was over and it was late. She had a feeling that all the rest of the ball attendants would be vacating the ballroom shortly, meaning there would be no more dancing or need for masks. Maddie would likely be headed back down to the campgrounds to meet with her school soon after escorting Selim to the Hospital Wing.

As they walked, the young French girl focused her attention on the fact that Selim's blood had gotten all over her dress from when she tried to support him. It wasn't that noticeable given the coloring of her dress, but the fact that she knew it was there bothered her. It was gross. She desperately wanted to change out of it. As they climbed the stairs to the fourth floor where the Hospital Wing supposedly was, Madeleine's head perked up at the sound of her name.

"Faust! Madeleine!"

It was Vladimir's voice, and she soon saw him down the hall from them. It looked like he had just left the double doors behind him, which must've been the Hospital Wing. Right, Selim had said that Vladimir would meet them. It was then that Maddie realized just how many questions she had. What in the world was the deal with that doll from before? And why had the two boys gone off and gotten into a fight in the first place? And why did everyone seem to have it out for Vladimir?

"I wouldn't put it past my... 'peers' to go after you due to your 'connection' to Mr. Athanatos. I wouldn't want you being hurt by the ignorance of the other students who see Athanatos as their 'enemy'."

That's what Selim had said to her before joining the fray with the doll. What was it with Hogwarts students seeming to have a proclivity for violence? All of these questions and more swirled in her mind, but she stayed composed as she assured Professor Galim that she and Vladimir could escort Selim the rest of the way into the Hospital Wing. So the professor went back down the stairs (presumably back to the ball to help) as Vladimir reached them.

"Vladimir, help him," she said, gesturing to the fact that Selim could hardly walk the rest of the way into the Hospital. Vlad would need to support or carry him there. Then her mind was reminded of the reason that Vladimir was here at the Hospital to begin with. "Is the girl who fell alright? Did the softening charm help at all?" she was suddenly anxious to see the girl, unsure if she wanted to know her current condition. "Is there a healer fixing her up now?"

Will delete this post after I post a normal post. Will move on without Selim shortly I suppose presuming he is not coming.

"What Loneliness is more Lonely then Distrust?" - George Elliot

Him being carried while blinded and likely concussed was not fun.

Honestly, it took all of what fading consciousness he had left to not vomit on his entourage. Everything swaying unpredictably and flashes of light dancing across his vision at almost every sharp bump or turn, it was honestly a miracle he managed even that at all.

Going up the stairs was rather rough as well, pressure changes he usually wouldn't notice seeming to scream at him out of nowhere and make his ears (or was it his jaw-?) pop.

They made it through though. He felt the professor put him down when they reached the wing, as he requested. That, personally, put her in Selim's good books. Maddie ended up supporting him the rest of the way just barely.

At some point, someone sped by, a blur, yelling. It startled him, made him jump, heart pounding in pandemonium with his head. His world spun briefly, he kept his stomach under control.

His chest heaved quietly as this happened, almost as if he had been punched in the ribs instead of his face. His heart and lungs were likely trying to keep up with the loss of blood. Suddenly, a male voice, Vlad, yelled. Instinctively he jerked away from the loud noise, ears ringing, head still spinning as if he were a top.

Visibly, the thin boy winced, hand moving to clench his pounding head as he slurred-muttered quiet profanities in Japanese.

The girl spoke softly afterward, but a burst in the 'whispers' covered whatever the girl said.

Likely barely able to walk in a straight line, Selim leaned into the girl's side, ignoring any hurt pride that may have come from the action in favor of the dull throbbing that basically numbed half his face to anything but pain.

He let out a quiet groan made up of a number of feelings. The voices weren't helping his headache, and he had taken to muttering multiple quiet 'shut up'-s under his breath as his free hand clenched his scalp.

He cracked open one eye, the other, of course, hidden, and tried to focus not the figure of the upperclassmen he had decided to 'protect' for some absurd reason he couldn't bother to puzzle out. Honestly, he wondered why he kept drifting toward other people in Hogwarts, first Jack, now the resident appointed antagonist of the student body.

He hated it, but his curiosity was getting the better of him.

Selim never liked leaving puzzles unfinished.

With a sigh, the raven boy looked away, ignoring how his vision was feathered with grey at its edges. He spotted another boy, kneeling by another of Vlad's possessions, the one who had fallen and looked dangerously similar to Victor's state before-

Selim had unwillingly slid his nails into his chest. Skin parting like butter, heart slowing to a stop as he pulled out his weapon-

Looking away with a grunt, his injured jaw clenched against the seeming hot white needles that danced through his bones.

"Let's get this over with..." He fired out in English, lurching forward as his irritated lungs protested with his speaking. He coughed up some clotted blood into a quickly-raised appendage, pulling it away after to glare at the red flecks. He could still feel the scarlet liquid oozing into his mouth, the taste of a sickening wound gliding across his tongue. He needed to clean those out properly.

He forced his sluggish limbs to move so he could wipe the red in his scarred elbow off on his clothing, hunching over slightly and fighting back nausea as his world tilted and swayed with the movement.

"Keep the cursed nurse away if they try to use 'healing magic' on me. I'm not in the mood to let a stranger poke me with spells outside my knowlege."

Ah, his famed paranoia was back, his single eye was gazing down the line of cots suspiciously as memories of his time after 'That Night' drifted through his muddled brain.

His tongue ran along the roof of his mouth, the urge to scrub the area until it turned red rather strong in that moment.

A flash of chains drifted across his conscious, there were many reasons why he was so paranoid, his father was definitely one of them.

It was much simpler to trust no one than try and pick and chose who to put your faith in.

That fact had been proven many times over his life.

"You've done enough!" Vladimir snapped. "Wasn't enough that they were terrified of you," his voice carried venom. "If she ends up dying..." his voice trailed off. He would hear a voice but there would be not sound. A threat that he heard in his head.



It was a threat, he did not bother to hide or sweeten. There was nothing implied, it was clearly stated - if she dies, there is going to be hell to pay.

He was of course torn after the gryffindor arrived. Leave her in his less than capable, actually dangerous, hands. Or stay at her side, defend her from this miscreant and whoever else comes until she was free from this vulnerable state.

He could not leave the girl [ @Aaron Jones ] or @Selim Faust in the hands of those jackals. They would be ripped apart. He would let out a noise of exasperation as he raced out of the room and down the halls. He was calling out their names, it was a purposeful battle cry in this case. Selim would know the way to the medical wing, Madeline would not. In addition, it warned others that he was coming, they were not going to stop him.

The moving stairs were traversed two at a time, his long legs made short work of them. He needed to find the two of them fast and get back to Marion before something else happened.

This would be the first time he saw Selim in this light. The pallid complexion and dark features. The thin frame. The blood, most of it his own. "Merlin," he exhaled. The girl's plea to help him fell on deaf ears, the Ravenclaw was mostly working on instinct. "Going to get himself killed helping a guy like me," he muttered as he bent down and attempted to take the burden of Selim's weight onto his shoulder.

"Is the girl who fell alright? Did the softening charm help at all?"

"Don't think so," he replied with a somber expression. He did not think she was OK and he did not know if the softening charm really mattered, if it could.

"Is there a healer fixing her up now?"

"I hope so, but we need to hurry back. The guy that pushed her is in there with her," a sense of urgency filled him. He should never have left her alone, a thought he was rebuking himself for now.

Once they returned, not that they were gone for long Vladimir would appear angry. He was not even sure how Selim got so injured. He was being tempered his father would tell him. He was stronger than most and he would only get stronger with each tragic loss and each devastating fray. "Get away from her!" He would roar at @Piérre Marchonné before he even had a chance to see if he was too close to Marion.

Selim would complain about being patched up with magic. "Magic is better, not like you would know if the bandages someone were placing on you were not tainted. That the person putting you back together was competent. Besides, takes you weeks to heal what takes hours or less for a bit of wandwork to heal," Vladimir replied. There was no tenderness in his voice, it was almost as if he was missing the phrase 'Idiot' laced throughout the statement.

"Madeline, I need you to get a couple of potions from the cabinet," he commented as he worked his way over to the nurses desk. He would look for a manual, some sort of diagnostic book (DMG) or pharmacopeia. He had a basic idea what he needed but he was a Ravenclaw, there was something about seeing what he needed to know written down. "Thick Golden," he knew that one off the top of his head. "Two of the red healing potions," a pretty generic need.

"What are your injuries Selim?" He was flipping through the book, before he even asked Selim the question he posed. No, he was not looking up Selim's injuries he was looking up someone else.

@Vladimir Athanatos, @Marion Davenport, @Selim Faust, & @Aaron Jones as Madeline

Even when the older boy threatened the young Britalian, there were things that were odd. ‘Wasn’t enough that they had been terrified of you...’ Piérre had terrified someone? How? In what degree or in what dimension had he been the source of fear. There had only been the queer Slytherin boy that he had once met last year, a boy who’s name Piérre had never gotten to learn. A boy who had vanished seemingly into thin air. It was impossible for Piérre to even pretend to be scary. Silly perhaps, but never a reason to be frightened of him.

If she ended up dying.

’I would never forgive myself.’ Piérre thought to himself, bile rising in the back of his throat as tears has threatened to fall. But instead...

I am going to break you in ways you did not think you could be broken.

And it wasn’t me, either.

That had caused the boy to freeze, almost shiver. To be broken? How? Mentally, physically, emotionally? Well, someone had already beaten whomever wanted to, as they said, break Piérre, to the punch. Even now, he was a walking jigsaw puzzle, with pieces missing in places the boy couldn’t place. An enigma wrapped in a mystery. Perhaps a marionette would be the best way to describe the oddness, a creature on strings which danced and cajoled and played for the enjoyment of all, feeling the joy in its heart and its soul... but not understanding it entirely. Entertaining so that it could beat out the doubtful questions which would hover over his head and cause him to puzzle further at night, urging him to remain awake until he could finally push it out enough to bring himself to sleep.

Physically, he was relatively unharmed. A few tumbles, a couple of sprains and hyperextentions. Burns, bruises, and scratches as well as a couple bloody noses. Nothing life-threatening, though, merely uncomfortable, simply tiring and morale-shattering. But thus was the reason for the intoxicating laugh, the smile that seemed brighter than the sun, and the boundless energy which could never be contained.

Emotionally, he was a patchwork quilt. Grief was its base, and curiosity the patches covering it thus. He drowned out fear with excitement, grief with laughter. Listening to others laugh; at him, with him, at his miseries, and at his silliness. Each was a small scratch, each was a tiny blemish, but blemishes worn with pride. He could be broken and bruised, cut up and left to die, and still he felt that he would still die with a smile and a laugh on his lips, in agony and with hatred surrounding him.

After a moment of peace when the two of them had been left, after Piérre had let his feelings out with reckless abandon, crying openly for the first time in what felt like years, the tall boy had returned, along with a young girl and the beaten up, thin boy that Piérre had spoken to at the Masquerade. The Britalian almost jumped to his feet out of both surprise and fear when he had more closely been able to observe the small boy’s condition, and then when the taller boy had bellowed out to scram from the incapacitated Marion.

His limbs were trembling, his lip quivering, and tears were still warm on his cheeks. Hands shaking, Piérre stomped a small foot, trying pitifully to hold his ground as he tried to mess with the bull; a tiny chipmunk against the great hawk. “N-No!” He finally managed, shaking his head strongly. “I.... I won’t!” He had been pushed around before. He had been made to be abused by oafish, manipulative, or cunning bullies all throughout his life. This boy who was ordering him around was only that... a tall, stocky, intimidating... potentially dangerous... bully!

“I won’t leave her! I don’t know what happened, but... but... You can’t make me leave! I’ll stay until she’s better, and you can’t prevent me from helping!” Piérre was useless in a fight, and he knew it. He would have much rathered to stay in the background and cheer, to offer support and stability. He could be beaten up, battered, bruised, or as that odd little voice had said earlier: Be broken in more ways than he could possibly imagine, but he was not going to take one step out of the hospital wing until Marion was conscious and Piérre knew that she was going to be alright for sure.

That being said, the boy seemed more preoccupied with trying to find certain things that Piérre had never heard of. Thick Golden... healing potions. That had been assigned to the other girl, Madeline. The small boy, Selim, evidently had complained about not being fond of healing Magic, and the tall boy had already explained its benefits.

What was Piérre supposed to do? Just stand and watch? Absolutely not!

Did he know any spells to help? No. Was he good enough with his hands to help? Absolutely not...

All he could do was stay close to Marion, unmoving even in the face of sheer wrath. Piérre’s face was pale, his green eyes glittering with determination. His jaw was set and he was prepared to move should he be attacked. His hand was still in Marion’s, and he was protectively poised, feeling for a pulse, a heartbeat... anything. It was his fault that he couldn’t catch right. It was his job to make sure she was okay. Forget the monster looming over him, the threat hanging over his head.

Shatter me and shatter me again if you please.
Those actions now may break my bones,
but your threats and words can never hinder me.

Action: Dodge

Mod Note: Piérre has brought his Moontrimmer, Luciana
He chooses to place his +3s to Evasion (+13) and Stamina (6)
He also possesses a 10% Auto-dodge rate

Statistics and Abilities
Stamina 6 | Strength 3 | Evasion 13
Wisdom 10 | Accuracy 10 | ArcPower 5

Keen Eye: 25% Chance to Spot something Important
Calming Presence: 10% Auto-hit Rate. Allies: @Piérre Marchonné, Romeo Marchonné, Hanzo Fransson, @Rafael D'Spacito, & @Marion Davenport

I'm too lazy to actually do art in an hour's time, and I'm working on the costume still, so have this image reference of Piérre's badass Mister L cosplay...

Reducio

Regular Text - English | Bolded Text - French | Bolded Black Text - Japanese
Interacting: @Selim Faust, @Vladimir Athanatos, @Piérre Marchonné
Mentioning: @Marion Davenport

Vladimir did little to assuage Madeleine's fears for the blonde girl who fell at the ball. As he moved to support Selim, his voice was somber. He said they needed to hurry back because-

"She was pushed?!" Madeleine's voice expressed just how horrified she was by this piece of information. "Who- Why- Wh-" she could not form words with how confused she was in that moment. So she settled for just following behind her ball date and his friend, anxiety written all over her. Why had the girl been pushed? Who even was she? Vlad had called her Mary, but that did not reveal much of anything to Madeleine who did not know the students of this school. Her heels clacked down the empty corridor in a rush as she followed the two boys, hoping that the blonde girl would be alright having been left with the person who injured her in the first place.

The double doors to the Hogwarts Hospital were pushed open and immediately Vladimir spoke - well yelled, more like. "Get away from her!" The anger in his voice and expression seemed familiar at this point, considering Madeleine had heard the same tone back at the ball.

As Vladimir moved to set Selim aside, the young Beauxbatons student got her first good look at the boy who had pushed Mary. He looked - well, Maddie didn't know what in the world he was supposed to look like, but she did not much like it. The handlebar mustache plus the black-and-green uniform and hat, well it didn't appeal to her at all. What was he supposed to be? But that wasn't the focus here. The point was that this boy had pushed a girl! And her fall had resulted in serious injuries!

Madeleine's brown eyes traveled to Mary, cringing slightly at the sight of her clearly broken body. Before she could move closer to check on her - comfort her in some way - the pusher was responding to Vladimir.

"I won't leave her! I don't know what happened, but... but... You can't make me leave! I'll stay until she's better, and you can't prevent me from helping!" Madeleine froze in place for a moment. That didn't sound like the words of someone who casually pushed girls from brooms. What had actually happened here? That little seed of doubt in Vladimir that had been planted back at the ball now seemed to be sprouting in Madeleine's mind. But she didn't have time to think about that. It was time to help the injured.

Vladimir was helping Selim and also asking her to fetch potions from the cabinets. She looked at him in slight confusion, wondering where in the world the Hogwarts healer was. But the way he seemed to take charge of the situation still led Madeleine to follow his words. Healing potions were the next logical step. But.. Thick Golden? What was that? Well, it would hopefully be labeled, or at least look how it sounded. So with one last anxious glance at the (crying?) pusher and the fall victim, Madeleine made her way over to the Hospital cabinets that appeared to hold potions.

Thanks to her heels, it did not take long to locate the ones Vladimir requested. The one labeled Thick Golden was near the top. She grabbed that and the two red healing potions, then deposited them with Vladimir at the nurse's desk. "Here, anything else?" Again, she glanced nervously at the pusher and Mary. He seemed to have taken on a protective stance - as if Vladimir was the threat here. She wished someone was here to explain this whole situation. Where was Cassanora when she needed her? Sure, she would probably have even less idea what was going on, but Madeleine was feeling overwhelmed and just wanted someone familiar by her side.

"The most dangerous creation of any sociaty is the man who has nothing to lose." - James A. Baldwin

Selim winced as the taller boy stooped down to help support his almost-dead weight, and heard his muttered words as he did so. The chuckle that came out of his throat was humorless, and turned into a slight fit of coughing as it broke open the wound on the inside of his cheek that was scabbing over.

"It expected as much when I did so, Athanatos. Though this wound was not brought on by your presence. No, is was brought on by a girl with a petty grudge." the boy paused to fight down the urge to cough, "Not towards me though, instead towards someone I know well."

His voice did not hold the tone of consoling someone who thought this injury was there fault. No, Selim knew well enough that Athanatos likely didn't feel too much guilt. He concluded that the upperclassmen simply thought him rather foolish.

The snake agreed if that was the case, what he had done was foolish, but he could hardly turn back now, and his dark curiosity still urged him to draw closer to the Ravenclaw. It proved well enough to the corpse-like boy that his curiosity would likely be his future self's downfall.

Well, Selim believed in living with few regrets. Besides, he'd be more likely to accept eternal rest with open arms. The feeling was akin to someone looking forward to letting their exhausted forms drop onto a cozy bed.

Selim rested his voice after his 'matter-of-fact' statement to his upperclassmen. Allowing his two companions escort him wherever they felt.

He caught sight of the boy by the bed when he looked up away from his feet upon stopping. He could feel how livid his upperclassmen was, remembering the words he muttered to Maddie about, likely this boy, being the one who shoved Marion off a broom.

Vlad then yelled, and Selim jolted as the noise made his head pound more. Then the boy in question that was being yelled at made a rather melodramatic mini-speech that made Selim want to roll his eyes.

He finished his speech by also yelling, and Selim scowled as his migraine spiked, making his world sway. "For merlin's sake would you shut up? At least stop yelling, I feel like I'm going to vomit from this bloody migraine and that isn't helping in the slightest." He practically hissed out, words tainted with promises of pain if the boy by the bed didn't oblige.

He didn't give two rats' tails about the accusations of attempted murder Vladimir was throwing around, nor the other boy's 'heroic' speech. It was wasting time he could be using to patch himself up, and it was frankly irritating.

It was obvious the boy wasn't trying to murder the girl who fell, his body language and reaction spewed no lies to Selim's trained eye. Or maybe he had been trying to off her, because the thin boy's mindset was far from honed at the moment.

Either way he didn't care.

Vladimir rejected his plea to not use healing magic, the rejection Selim perfectly understood as being logical. That wasn't the point, the point was that it was unnecessary in his eyes.

He scowled, "Sadly I doubt this injury is going to kill me. Using up this stock of potions able to, you know, keep my Slytherin housemates from painfully dying to a curse is entirely unnecessary, Athanatos, and I'd rather not be blamed for possibly indirectly murdering them." A slight growl underlaid his forcibly level words. He coughed slightly, "I've dealt 'muggle' first aid plenty times on myself. Besides it's less likely for muggle supplies to be tainted then potions or magic." He closed his eyes, "This injury just requires cleaning, stitches, and clean bandages... I don't give two rats' tails about how long it takes to heal, just gives me an excuse to stay away from our 'charming peers with trigger-happy fingers."

He eyed the cold Ravenclaw. "Tend to the girl, I just need a first aid kit and I can deal with myself. I'm sure you're more concerned about her, which is understandable." He shifted on the cot that he was sitting on, and leaned against the wall, relieved he wasn't standing anymore. He eyed the golden potion with the wariness of a rabbit watching an approaching wolf, and his only working eye flickered around the room in search of his desired healing components.

If there weren't first aid kits in this school hyperfocused on magic, the snake was going to tear his cloth bandages off right then and there and let himself perish in a blaze of drama. His form was tense with restrained ire, fingers twitching with memories of a similar room with much darker feelings tied to it.

He hated hospitals.

His gaze twitched as he eyed the boy bent over a tome, a brief question asked of him, "Lacerations one one side of my face and a broken jaw... which isn't life-threatening." He spoke in a monotone, hiding his mounting irritation. "I'd rather be left with my scars. What's six more..." The last part was muttered with undirected venom.

He knew he sounded rather dumb, his Logic practically screeching at him with a voice that promised the next few nights to be torture. His hand clenched, nails biting into his skin as he became hypersensitive to how unconcealed the scars on his arms were.

"This may sound stupid to you but I have my reasons." His eyes drifted back to the golden potion, the urge to grab it and throw it on the broken girl on the bed beside him growing. He'd have no regrets about doing so, it's not like he had much to loose.

In fact, he had more to lose if he accepted this healing magic, a line he never wanted to cross again.

Because to Selim, magic was plan B if physical means of fighting and basic first aid failed him. It was not plan A. Never, plan A.

In this situation, first aid was good enough for healing his injuries. He had never asked for help with his injuries anyways.

A vivid memory crossed his distorted mindscape. He almost laughed at the irony of it all. You said it yourself, Athanatos. For wizards there is no risk. They enjoy a great many comforts, advantages that muggles will never understand. Break a bone... A wave of a wand and it knits. His voice held a dark undertone, loathing as memories of his time after 'That Night' flashed through his broken mind. His eyes held a cold rage as the haze over his logic grew thicker, the filter between his brain and his mouth had become none-existent, his migraine blocking his self-control. "What does it really matter?" He finished the quote that always had remained vivid in his mind after that 'Fight Club'. As vivid as Victor's death.

Perhaps he'd regret what he was saying when he was in a better state of mind later. Right now though? He lacked any care about consequences.

What's the worse that could happen... death? Selim hardly had anything to loose, it would be more of a blessing then a punishment to him.

They always said to be wary of those who had nothing to loose.

"Unlike Them, I'm not a mindless sheep, and I'd rather not be so comfortable with something that could be turned against you so easily." He said scornfully. He sounded as if he was personally familiar with such an idea. His tone tainted with a dark experience only he knew about.

There was one thing Selim distrusted more then adults in this world.

Magic.

Because Selim knew the kinds of seeds magic planted... Compliance, Dependence.

And both of those could be used against you. Dependence and Compliance were things that could easily be turned against you, just like friendship, just like family.

“N-No!”

He refused Vladimir. Why would he expect it? In truth he expected an obstinate reaction. A dangerous Gryffindor being stubborn to the end.

“I.... I won’t!”

Won't what, leave the girl he hurt alone?

“I won’t leave her! I don’t know what happened, but... but... You can’t make me leave! I’ll stay until she’s better, and you can’t prevent me from helping!”

"I absolutely can" make him that is, or so the Ravenclaw declared. With not a force of personality but rather a show of brute strength, arcane power. "You caused this. You're not fixing it," Vladimir snapped. He blamed @Piérre Marchonné for Marion's injuries. "You Gryffindors do enough" he rumbled. Besides, Mary was beyond the help of mortal men.

Was Vladimir the sort of person that would 'make' Pierre leave? Anger and regret have made men do worse things. Yet the gryffindor would act as expected. Obstinately refuse to walk away because he was told to. Vladimir would wonder out loud "had I told you to guard her fallen form, would you have run away?" The question was rhetorical, a sarcastic comment that only served to verbalize his displeasure.

If Pierre got too handsy, Vladimir would rip the boy lib from limb and beat him to death with his severed limbs. As it was, the boy's right (presumed) hand was forfeit, his hand resting in Marions, being left to stay there for too long. Her had was ice cold, like as if she had been laying out in the snow. He would never feel a pulse, a heartbeat... anything. He would never see the rise and fall of her chest.

Madeline would deliver a pair of potions. Thick Golden Potion, his lifeblood at least for the moment. He would grab one without looking at Madeline and pop the cork. With a grimace he would lift the bottle eye level, check once, yes he was not so trusting that he would simply down a bottle handed to him blindly. It was correct, the color, the weight the label. It was the same brew he would consume night after night. He shook his head, he never could get used to the taste but it cleared his head, at least of the lingering ache, the panic and dismay

"Sadly I doubt this injury is going to kill me. Using up this stock of potions able to, you know, keep my Slytherin housemates from painfully dying to a curse is entirely unnecessary, Athanatos, and I'd rather not be blamed for possibly indirectly murdering them."

"No, it is for our curse," he replied. He would fish around in his pocket, there was something on his person that he required. A length of rubber tubing, approximately one-hundred centimeters. The rubber was stiff, coiled several times.

"I've dealt 'muggle' first aid plenty times on myself. Besides it's less likely for muggle supplies to be tainted then potions or magic."

"Inefficient," he countered. "And no less likely," he claimed. Soaking bandages in poison or a potion, possible, viable, even likely. "You're allowing superstition and paranoia to leave you crippled, drink the red one. Pick your favorite of the red ones if you think my date is trying to poison me... you... her," his head nodded in Marion's direction. His date seemed like a nice girl, an unfortunate one, but a nice one all the same. She did not deserve to get messed up in all of this but he would be a liar to claim he did not expect a terrible evening because he had deigned it appropriate to be seen in public. an appearance he only made because he knew that Marion would play the role of social butterfly and despite his former sentiments which are years passed, he was just her friend.

"This injury just requires cleaning, stitches, and clean bandages... I don't give two rats' tails about how long it takes to heal, just gives me an excuse to stay away from our 'charming peers with trigger-happy fingers."

"And six to eight weeks," he added. "Six to eight weeks," he repeated "that you remain vulnerable." It went without saying, but it would be a matter of minutes, hours, at most days. He unfurled the length of tubing and gave it a stretch, then another.

"Tend to the girl, I just need a first aid kit and I can deal with myself. I'm sure you're more concerned about her, which is understandable."

"I am," he commented. The answer had dual meaning, he was certainly more concerned for the ailing, close to mortally wounded girl. She was injured more, it was simple triage. In addition, there was a pre-existing friendship. He would miss her more if she died, not that he failed to notice Selim's statement that he [Selim] would 'unfortunately' live. "I can multi-task," he asserted as he approached the window with the uncoiled tubing. He needed the cold air. The plastic was too malleable for his taste, the fall chill was what he truly required.



The tubing needed a few minutes in the cold.

He would return to the desk, leaf through the pages. The thing about medicine was, it was one part experience, one part luck and one part learning. He had a share of luck he was willing to expend and there were plenty of books for learning.

"Lacerations one one side of my face and a broken jaw... which isn't life-threatening."

"Yes, eating through a straw for eight weeks to stabilize a jaw," he commented with a tone of sarcasm. "You're aware, that they wire jaws to stabilize them and allow them to heal. That you should keep a set of wire cutters on your person so that if you start to wretch, that you can release your bindings so you do not drown in your own vomit." Yes, the muggle way is so much better. "Also, that whole eating through a straw bit, a muggle adage I believe... You realize that involves knocking out a tooth to fit a straw through." This was intended to scare him, but it also was not a lie. It was to have him reflect on his childish or perhaps masculine bravado. "Or a dose of skelegrow, a few hours of agony and you are healed." The answer seemed obvious to the Ravenclaw.

"I'd rather be left with my scars. What's six more..."

But some liked their scars. It was proof. It was evidence. something that they could count. Something that they could tell stories about. He sounded like an absolute idiot.

"This may sound stupid"

"It does," he interrupted a confirmation.

"To you but I have my reasons."

"Reasons, maybe. But unlikely good ones." He added, knowing that logic would not change his stance. "Stay weak."

"You said it yourself, Athanatos. For wizards there is no risk. They enjoy a great many comforts, advantages that muggles will never understand. Break a bone... A wave of a wand and it knits."

He left the spare red potion on the desk. Knocking the base on the desk surface. It was for Selim, if he chose to take it.

"You said it yourself, Athanatos. For wizards there is no risk. They enjoy a great many comforts, advantages that muggles will never understand. Break a bone... A wave of a wand and it knits."

"So... what, make a risk because there is not enough already?" He was walking across the room, his words for Selim but his eyes on the Gryffindor menace.

"What does it really matter?"

"Matters to someone, I am sure." He claimed, "Victor mattered to me." He frowned as he opened the window and recovered the tube. His expression hidden by the back of his head but the reflection of his face shown the truth. By the time he turned, a neutral expression had donned his face, he had been working on managing his rage. The chilled tube in hand.

"Unlike Them, I'm not a mindless sheep, and I'd rather not be so comfortable with something that could be turned against you so easily."

"Corruption is not mutually exclusive with magic," he reminded him. He would take that tube and open Marion's mouth. The girl was like a shattered doll, her form only maintained with skin and muscle."I don't believe you have put much thought into the matter yourself, yet you call others sheep." There was a grinding sense in her hand as the jaw was opened. That was broken too. He would glare at Pierre. He would slide the tube into her mouth, down her throat. His free hand would leave the potion next to her head as he lifted her by the back of her head. Bending her face forward, curling her neck. It was easier to hit the esophagus this way.

There was no breathing, no humidity in the tubing to say he had entered her lungs. No piston syringe to aspirate. He allowed the tube to fall off the edge of the bed. A greenish fluid, it was bile, would start to travel up the tube.

It was in the right place. He lifted the tube and he poured the potion, well potions. Starting with the thick golden, followed by the red. A slow administration, but it would work. It would be instilled, merely an exercise of patience.

Now he only needed to wait and perhaps argue with the boys more.