Drop Off PV Finished

After he stormed out of the ball, leaving his completely incapable cronies to not stop anyone (not that he was going to bring that up, they tried and that's what mattered,) he chased after the guy that was trying to take his girl. Well... she wasn't really his girl, but she was by a long shot the only cool Hogwarts student of any of them. Tough, aloof, doesn't take crap from giants. Not that there weren't tons of tough girls at Durmstrang, but Erin was different.

That was it, different. Everyone hated people who were different. Seeing her being dragged off ignited a new kind of rage in him, but not the kind that sought mad revenge, needing to see the guy's face bloody to feel better. He was mad that no one was listening to her, that they all just wanted her to shut up. Of course. Everyone wanted a nice party, it didn't matter what she was going through, or what she said. They didn't want to have to think about her at all. A reject, like him. At least that was his line of thinking, it would have been nice if he shared any of these thoughts with the girl in question.

That wasn't how Yefim did things, though. He was not good at talking, and even when he tried really hard it did no good. He wouldn't let it depress him though, he was going to fight until the day he died. Not for his place in society, but to rise above it. He'd catch all of the rejects in his fishing net and show them the path to the golden land. Well... he just made that up, he wasn't sure what his father expected him to do when he ascended. He just figured it was going to be epic and kill a lot of people.

So when he saw Erin discarded at the hopsital wing entrance, he did not seek the shithead who did it. He deadlifted the dance partner of his dreams, setting her down on one of the beds nearby. The ball had taken place at nightfall, so the wing was fairly dark and quiet. She was totes unconscious. There was a bit of commotion as some of the staff took fresh notice of the tall nearly-naked Yefim standing over her bed stiffly, like a gargoyle. A hot, ripped gargoyle.

She was a total trainwreck, filthy and beaten. Not only that, she looked downright ill. She looked all bent out of shape, like her skeleton didn't fit. He remembered how she had been screaming about deathwitches, had she been a victim of some kind? Well, it wasn't like he could actually heal her himself. This was the limit of his power for now. He'd have to leave the rest to the healers who were scrambling potions together to bring over to her.

He would have to go eventually, his buddies were probably in a life-or-death fight to stave off the angry masses (they weren't,) and he was in a castle filled with enemies. She looked like she was safe. When the first nurse assistant sidled up to the bed, their attention immidiately drawn to Erin's body to investigate the damage, Yefim spoke up.

”Are you death witch?”

They looked up with a flick, clearly having more on their mind than what Yefim was saying. He wouldn't waste a second or let them go for their wand before grabbing their arm much too tightly. ”Are. You. Death. Witch.”

He had the group's attention, though his action ellicited more fear and confusion than answers. Already not at their brightest due to the hour, the assistant sputtered out a few noises before they managed a reply, "No?" The question drew out, as there were quesitons of their own they might have liked to ask him, but they had a job to focus on.

He let go, his features still stiff. He pat Erin on the shoulder, the girl truly looking like he was going to rise out of the bed like a zombie. [”You need to regain your strength. Do your best.”] With that, he would move to the doors and stand guard to make sure no more deathwitches entered. That was, until the nurses were free enough to call someone to remove him.

@Erin Ryan

Thread can end here unless there's any more you'd like to describe or do

When Yefim deadlifted Erin, he would note the first thing that was wrong. It was her skin, it was smooth. Not the sort of smooth that one would expect in a girl, clean shaven and well-moisturized. No, this was something else. It would resemble the feeling of a peeled, hard-boiled egg. Smooth, almost slick. Firm, skin almost taut. Also, she was lighter than she should have been, he should have remembered her physique the year prior. She was physically powerful, power required mass - Erin lacked mass.

An assistant would look her over. She was battered and bruised, a few blows to the head had her seeing stars. Rolled to the side, the extent of the injuries were far from grave. "Diffuse bodily injury" they would call it with "injuries of varied age and evidence of untreated fractures and superficial injuries." They were partially right, there was extensive scaring on the girl's back. It looked like something had torn away at the flesh of her back, like claws. The skin had long ago healed over, leaving a faded silver-pink sheen. It was rare for a wizard to have scars, even more so a pureblood.

She was not moving, it was the only reason the marks would have been seen beneath tangled blonde tresses. She was breathing, that being the primary priority of the healer. The second likely contending with the strange foreign boy. While he asked the healer if they were a death witch perhaps he would see it, something move beneath the skin. It was something that could easily be a trick of the eye, a shadow, his imagination if he had one. Whatever it was, it was fleeting.

Yefim would leave for the door, a sentinel for the evening.

Would she wake? Of course, they failed in attempted murder this day. It was a semi-familiar scene, the ceiling of the hospital wing. The back of some nurse or assistant. Her body feeling all fluffy because of the bandages. Her skin too slick, slathered with varied healing salves that made everything smell of strong herb.