9 Apr 2021, 01:59
Pusillanimous Posture
4:32 a.m., an ungodly hour. The sun would not rise for another hour. The sliver of a moon hardly illuminated the grass and the uneven terrain. A thick fog left the terrain a blur. Her feet scraped an incline, her hands would claw against the earth and gain purchase. She did not need to see, she knew these grounds well and she fled these living terrors in her waking nightmares.
Maryjanes were not made for fleeing but all things were malleable and she would adapt. Her stocking torn as the stone gave way and she slid back down the embankment. She would look back, not that there was anything to see. Only hear, as a wall of mist met her gaze. Not staying, not failing. Erin's ambition was simple: to survive.
Fight or flight -- she always chose to flee. She lacked the pride to remain steadfast, to enter an unnecessary fight. They, being the Professors and staff, could not be trusted. A school in turmoil, a living darkness, a trio of crones with ill intentions only scratched the surface. The death witches, the choking miasma that permeated this desecrated space and the curse of forgetting. That was the problem with forsaking ones memories, you can't even remember that you forgot. She could not run forever, but it bought her time. Humans are incredible predators in their own right, invasive, dangerous and stubborn. Ultimately prey tires and once it does, it is overwhelmed with both tooth and claw. It made humans the apex predator even if most people consider themselves domesticated.
A leaping bound would follow the scramble up the embankment. Like a childish game of tag, her arms would stretch out and wrap around the trunk of the tree as if it promised her 'safety.' Heavy, heaving breaths into the bark of the tree, she would look back behind her. Again, not that she could see in the dark. She was waiting, not for a visual flash of recognition. Often the horror never came, it was a terror trapped in the recesses of her maddened mind. A living nightmare. A vexing facet of the blonde's ever-growing paranoia.
Not every monster she fled was real.
Perhaps this time was different. Perhaps this time there was something in the dark, hidden in the misty fog. The crunch of gravel and the snap of twig was not in her head. That she was being chased. Not that she could hear any longer, over her own heaving breaths and the pounding of her heart. A trembling grip on the trunk released as she wiped the cold sweat from her brow and strained her eyes to see if she could make out the phantom in the dark -- be it a monster in her mind or a man in pursuit.
If there was something chasing her -- they might fall. That leaping bound was to clear a hidden deadfall. Several feet to a rocky bottom in a pit hidden by a web of thin branches and discarded grass clippings and leaves.
If there was nothing there, then it would be a sight. A frenzied scramble for a tree. A fight against an addled imagination and nothing more. A wait for an impending fall that would never come.
Maryjanes were not made for fleeing but all things were malleable and she would adapt. Her stocking torn as the stone gave way and she slid back down the embankment. She would look back, not that there was anything to see. Only hear, as a wall of mist met her gaze. Not staying, not failing. Erin's ambition was simple: to survive.
Fight or flight -- she always chose to flee. She lacked the pride to remain steadfast, to enter an unnecessary fight. They, being the Professors and staff, could not be trusted. A school in turmoil, a living darkness, a trio of crones with ill intentions only scratched the surface. The death witches, the choking miasma that permeated this desecrated space and the curse of forgetting. That was the problem with forsaking ones memories, you can't even remember that you forgot. She could not run forever, but it bought her time. Humans are incredible predators in their own right, invasive, dangerous and stubborn. Ultimately prey tires and once it does, it is overwhelmed with both tooth and claw. It made humans the apex predator even if most people consider themselves domesticated.
A leaping bound would follow the scramble up the embankment. Like a childish game of tag, her arms would stretch out and wrap around the trunk of the tree as if it promised her 'safety.' Heavy, heaving breaths into the bark of the tree, she would look back behind her. Again, not that she could see in the dark. She was waiting, not for a visual flash of recognition. Often the horror never came, it was a terror trapped in the recesses of her maddened mind. A living nightmare. A vexing facet of the blonde's ever-growing paranoia.
Not every monster she fled was real.
Perhaps this time was different. Perhaps this time there was something in the dark, hidden in the misty fog. The crunch of gravel and the snap of twig was not in her head. That she was being chased. Not that she could hear any longer, over her own heaving breaths and the pounding of her heart. A trembling grip on the trunk released as she wiped the cold sweat from her brow and strained her eyes to see if she could make out the phantom in the dark -- be it a monster in her mind or a man in pursuit.
If there was something chasing her -- they might fall. That leaping bound was to clear a hidden deadfall. Several feet to a rocky bottom in a pit hidden by a web of thin branches and discarded grass clippings and leaves.
If there was nothing there, then it would be a sight. A frenzied scramble for a tree. A fight against an addled imagination and nothing more. A wait for an impending fall that would never come.
A thread for @Howard White. You can be chasing or you can be a watcher or heck... be standing there. Up to you.
Just a trick of the lighting they said...
11 Apr 2021, 03:13
Pusillanimous Posture
Howard wandered along the shoreline of the Great Lake, his pacing slow as he allowed his mind to drift. It may have been an ungodly hour, but it suited such an ungodly creature. The few rays of moonlight that managed their way through the heavy cloud cover would illuminate his exposed flesh as the early morning hours provided protection for mind and body alike. Lack of sunlight allowed Howard the freedom from the heavy clothing that was necessary during the light of day, his heavy cloak tucked away safely in his school trunk. Staying awake during the late hours kept his dreams away from the prying influence of those that ruled the dungeons. Besides some sleep deprivation it was a win win for the dhampir, but the real treat was that it awarded him some alone time. The castle was crowded and personal space was hard to come by when almost every part of the school was shared with others. It was suffocating at times. The buzzing of hundreds of conversations and mixture of so many scents were often overwhelming for his heightened senses. A quiet stroll in the wee hours of the morning was always a relief, almost meditative at times and well worth the chance of being caught out after curfew.
A cold gust of wind would bring a thick fog billowing in around Howard. To most it would obscure the view of the grounds, but his red eyes would not be effected. Over the last year his eyesight had grown stronger, partly do to his predatory nature but also a side effect of living mostly in the shadows. Not that he needed it at this moment choosing instead to close his eyes and continue to let his mind wander.
SNAP
A twig would break under Howard's foot, but that wouldn't be what caused his eyes to pop open. The sound of hurried footsteps caught his ears as he instinctively crouched and curled his fingers into claws. The fine hairs on the back of his neck would raise as long draws of air were sucked through his nose. So many scents would pass through his sensitive nostrils, but there would be one note that stuck out above the rest. It was something...familiar. Whether this scent was friend or foe couldn't be determined just yet. His sense of smell was still developing, but when faced with a potential threat Howard would always choose offense first. With a lunge he would tear off, allowing his senses to guide him in the right direction.
After a quick sprint Howard would reach an embankment. The elongated nails of his fingers would plunge into earth as he followed the tracks of whoever came before him. The scent was stronger, he was close. As Howard reached the top he would come to a pause. His red eyes pierced through the fog to see a familiar face staring back at him. "Ryan." It was but a whisper that escaped his lips as he looked her over. She clung to a tree as if her very life depended on it and knowing what they knew about this cursed school it just very well might. "What's wrong?" He rose his voice just enough for her to hear. "What are you running fro-AHHH!" As Howard stepped forward his leg would fall through the ground before him as he plunged into the pit below. With a hard smack his body would slam against the stones below as a gasp of pain escaped his body. The fall surely wasn't far enough to be fatal, but there would be some good bruises and scrapes to be had. "What the fuck?!" Howard called out between the gasps to regain his breath. "Erin!" He bellowed from the depths. "It's me, Howard! What the hell are you doing!? Help me outta here!"
A cold gust of wind would bring a thick fog billowing in around Howard. To most it would obscure the view of the grounds, but his red eyes would not be effected. Over the last year his eyesight had grown stronger, partly do to his predatory nature but also a side effect of living mostly in the shadows. Not that he needed it at this moment choosing instead to close his eyes and continue to let his mind wander.
SNAP
A twig would break under Howard's foot, but that wouldn't be what caused his eyes to pop open. The sound of hurried footsteps caught his ears as he instinctively crouched and curled his fingers into claws. The fine hairs on the back of his neck would raise as long draws of air were sucked through his nose. So many scents would pass through his sensitive nostrils, but there would be one note that stuck out above the rest. It was something...familiar. Whether this scent was friend or foe couldn't be determined just yet. His sense of smell was still developing, but when faced with a potential threat Howard would always choose offense first. With a lunge he would tear off, allowing his senses to guide him in the right direction.
After a quick sprint Howard would reach an embankment. The elongated nails of his fingers would plunge into earth as he followed the tracks of whoever came before him. The scent was stronger, he was close. As Howard reached the top he would come to a pause. His red eyes pierced through the fog to see a familiar face staring back at him. "Ryan." It was but a whisper that escaped his lips as he looked her over. She clung to a tree as if her very life depended on it and knowing what they knew about this cursed school it just very well might. "What's wrong?" He rose his voice just enough for her to hear. "What are you running fro-AHHH!" As Howard stepped forward his leg would fall through the ground before him as he plunged into the pit below. With a hard smack his body would slam against the stones below as a gasp of pain escaped his body. The fall surely wasn't far enough to be fatal, but there would be some good bruises and scrapes to be had. "What the fuck?!" Howard called out between the gasps to regain his breath. "Erin!" He bellowed from the depths. "It's me, Howard! What the hell are you doing!? Help me outta here!"
11 Apr 2021, 18:19
Pusillanimous Posture
"Ryan."
It knew her name. Nope. Nope! It only strengthened her resolve to escape. It, whatever it was, was intelligent. That or her paranoia was growing increasingly specific.
"What's wrong?"
A phrase she had never heard before. A voice that was strangely familiar. A lie. Not that she had much time to rationally consider the possibility that defied her experiences. A crocotta perhaps. A trick from the hags. A deathwitch. A terror that she had not yet defined or faced. She expected something to lash out from the pit, a hole that she had dug out by hand for months. She had not made nearly enough progress she decided at this moment, had it been a giant that crashed down into that pit, they would still be able to look at her.
Thankfully, the nightmares were all in her head. She just needed to reach 'safety' and cling, wait for the the impending nothing. Privately repress the fear and the shame of the creeping madness that addled her consciousness. Wait for dawn's early light and carry on with her day.
Only this time something was there.
The crack of breaking branches followed by a... shout? She could only see a faceless image in the darkness, through the misty fog. A form that twisted in her demented imagination into a monstrosity. She tightened her grip on the trunk of the tree and waited for the imminent landing following a brief deadfall.
Her heart in her throat she would wait a few moments before she would relinquish her grip on the trunk of her refuge. "What are you? Why are you chasing me?" She called out into the darkness, not yet approaching the precipice.
"What the fuck?!"
A voice echoed back, reinforcing that there was indeed something caught below. A staggered walk, she would relinquish her grip from the tree. A childish impulse that the inanimate object could offer her a sense of security.
"Erin!"
Until it called out to her. It, knew her name, she would back away from the pit curiosity drew her towards. She would back away, her nails scratched at the treebark. A nervous tick.
"It's me, Howard! What the hell are you doing!? Help me outta here!"
"Liar!" Erin shouted back. Her nails would itch the same spot on the tree. "How do you know me..." no, "us?" Djinns, sirens, various shapeshifters -- all capable of reading minds, learning intimate details about their victims.
She fumbled with her arm, she never used the darn thing. A wizard with an aversion to magic, she never did fit in well anywhere did she? Her wand was banded to her arm, on top of the thin jogging coat she had donned to protect her from the nighttime chill. The wand never felt at home in her grip, even after all these years. An eternal outsider.
"Lumos" she incanted with a low growl to her voice. She had no idea what she would do with the trapped monster. Nobody would believe her, understand the fact that she was what was standing between them and oblivion. They would forget, disbelieve or not care like they always did. The burden of memory was hers to endure. Her stomach churned, a bitterness could be tasted in the back of her mouth.
She could see the ground, the thin grass, the well-worn path that meandered to this very site. A familiar jog for the girl whom had fled here so many times at this point that it became muscle memory. With reticence she would leave the barely budding tree and approach the uneven lip of the pit.
She would peer down the pit. Someone was down there. The light cast by the warm glow from the tip of her wand would reveal a lone figure at the bottom of the hole. A pair of glowing ember-like eyes that reminded her of burning coal would look back up at her. His likely perturbed or confused expression would meet her glower. "Damn -- you look just like him," she announced as she stared down at him looking for a flaw. A mistake. That one thing that they would miss when they emulated the dhampir.
It was pretty spot on she had to silently admit.
"Shame this has happened enough times already for me to know that you're full of shit," she narrated.
"Really?" Did she look like she was joking around? If anything she would bring the tree down alongside the pit and bury the monster within after the sun rose and she had a free pair of hands. She had time, not much but some. "Say something that only Howard would say then."
It knew her name. Nope. Nope! It only strengthened her resolve to escape. It, whatever it was, was intelligent. That or her paranoia was growing increasingly specific.
"What's wrong?"
A phrase she had never heard before. A voice that was strangely familiar. A lie. Not that she had much time to rationally consider the possibility that defied her experiences. A crocotta perhaps. A trick from the hags. A deathwitch. A terror that she had not yet defined or faced. She expected something to lash out from the pit, a hole that she had dug out by hand for months. She had not made nearly enough progress she decided at this moment, had it been a giant that crashed down into that pit, they would still be able to look at her.
Thankfully, the nightmares were all in her head. She just needed to reach 'safety' and cling, wait for the the impending nothing. Privately repress the fear and the shame of the creeping madness that addled her consciousness. Wait for dawn's early light and carry on with her day.
Only this time something was there.
The crack of breaking branches followed by a... shout? She could only see a faceless image in the darkness, through the misty fog. A form that twisted in her demented imagination into a monstrosity. She tightened her grip on the trunk of the tree and waited for the imminent landing following a brief deadfall.
Her heart in her throat she would wait a few moments before she would relinquish her grip on the trunk of her refuge. "What are you? Why are you chasing me?" She called out into the darkness, not yet approaching the precipice.
"What the fuck?!"
A voice echoed back, reinforcing that there was indeed something caught below. A staggered walk, she would relinquish her grip from the tree. A childish impulse that the inanimate object could offer her a sense of security.
"Erin!"
Until it called out to her. It, knew her name, she would back away from the pit curiosity drew her towards. She would back away, her nails scratched at the treebark. A nervous tick.
"It's me, Howard! What the hell are you doing!? Help me outta here!"
"Liar!" Erin shouted back. Her nails would itch the same spot on the tree. "How do you know me..." no, "us?" Djinns, sirens, various shapeshifters -- all capable of reading minds, learning intimate details about their victims.
She fumbled with her arm, she never used the darn thing. A wizard with an aversion to magic, she never did fit in well anywhere did she? Her wand was banded to her arm, on top of the thin jogging coat she had donned to protect her from the nighttime chill. The wand never felt at home in her grip, even after all these years. An eternal outsider.
"Lumos" she incanted with a low growl to her voice. She had no idea what she would do with the trapped monster. Nobody would believe her, understand the fact that she was what was standing between them and oblivion. They would forget, disbelieve or not care like they always did. The burden of memory was hers to endure. Her stomach churned, a bitterness could be tasted in the back of her mouth.
She could see the ground, the thin grass, the well-worn path that meandered to this very site. A familiar jog for the girl whom had fled here so many times at this point that it became muscle memory. With reticence she would leave the barely budding tree and approach the uneven lip of the pit.
She would peer down the pit. Someone was down there. The light cast by the warm glow from the tip of her wand would reveal a lone figure at the bottom of the hole. A pair of glowing ember-like eyes that reminded her of burning coal would look back up at her. His likely perturbed or confused expression would meet her glower. "Damn -- you look just like him," she announced as she stared down at him looking for a flaw. A mistake. That one thing that they would miss when they emulated the dhampir.
It was pretty spot on she had to silently admit.
"Shame this has happened enough times already for me to know that you're full of shit," she narrated.
Presuming Howard insists that he is him.
"Really?" Did she look like she was joking around? If anything she would bring the tree down alongside the pit and bury the monster within after the sun rose and she had a free pair of hands. She had time, not much but some. "Say something that only Howard would say then."
Just a trick of the lighting they said...
15 Apr 2021, 04:22
Pusillanimous Posture
What are you? A loaded question when it came to the teenaged Dhampir. Howard was a young man of split natures and identities. Both a human and the living dead, both wizard and muggle. The raging hormones of one his age did nothing to help as these factors clashed with one another while Howard struggled with that very question. He had always felt an outsider after entering the wizarding world. He surely wasn't the only muggleborn amongst the student body, but it was a complete shock learning that magic flowed through his blood and was quickly whisked away to a whole other world. Traumatic was a better word for it. There was no choice in the matter as he was shipped away for being different. While some might welcome the chance, the two worlds could do much better in preparing people like himself. It wouldn't be that much longer before another traumatic change would come Howard's way. The partial loss of his humanity that came with his transformation would give him many gifts. Heightened senses, superior strength and deadly claws to name a few, but they came with a heavy price. The two natures constantly struggled for dominance within him. His predatory urges made him feel powerful some days, while others he could barely stand to look himself in the mirror. What was he? Complicated to say the least, but what he was right now was very much stuck in a hole.
"I'm not chasing you, Erin!" The anger rising in his voice as he finally caught his breath after the fall. "I was coming to see what you were actually running from?" It was becoming more apparent that his current predicament was her doing as she accused him of being a liar. She most likely could not see his facial expression, but it would shift from one of frustration to bewilderment as she referred to an us. Unfortunately for Erin, Howard was not the brightest nor the most emotional mature of her peers. If only someone in her life was able to recognize her diminishing mental state perhaps she stood a chance of becoming whole. Another unfortunate victim of neglect. "Us?! Who else is there?" He called out to her.
Howard would back away instinctively as the space around him was illuminated by the magical light from Erin's wand. "Careful where you're aiming that thing." He warned. There was still some light scarring from the last time a Lumos came too close. With arms crossed his red eyes would would stare up at her. Not that he could see her properly. It felt like an interrogation from the old cop movies he used to watch as a child. "What the hell are you talking about!" Howard's thought process couldn't see that Erin was falling further into her delusions and would just assume that he was toying with him. Poking at the beast just to see what happens. His eyes would roll as she demanded a truth from him. However memories would flood his mind from her prompt. The first time time they met, the many times they drew blood from each other. The incident in the library or the blood letting in the Ravenclaw dormitories. His feeling for her were complicated. Did he care for her? Or was it more that she had always been a constant in a life of seemingly endless undoings? Both were neither smart enough or emotionally stable enough to define their relationship, but there was always something that drew them together.
Say something only Howard would say? Fuck you!, would be his first impulse, but he currently wasn't in the position to say. Knowing her, he wouldn't put it past her to leave him in this hole to rot. So, he would play along. His hand would raise, palm facing away from her and index finger extended. The nail was discolored more than the others, the flesh still blackened on the bed from the cursed touch of the Hags. "You brought me to them. The crones in the dungeons." Would it be enough to to bypass her paranoia? Or would Howard stay in the hole for another round of questioning?
"I'm not chasing you, Erin!" The anger rising in his voice as he finally caught his breath after the fall. "I was coming to see what you were actually running from?" It was becoming more apparent that his current predicament was her doing as she accused him of being a liar. She most likely could not see his facial expression, but it would shift from one of frustration to bewilderment as she referred to an us. Unfortunately for Erin, Howard was not the brightest nor the most emotional mature of her peers. If only someone in her life was able to recognize her diminishing mental state perhaps she stood a chance of becoming whole. Another unfortunate victim of neglect. "Us?! Who else is there?" He called out to her.
Howard would back away instinctively as the space around him was illuminated by the magical light from Erin's wand. "Careful where you're aiming that thing." He warned. There was still some light scarring from the last time a Lumos came too close. With arms crossed his red eyes would would stare up at her. Not that he could see her properly. It felt like an interrogation from the old cop movies he used to watch as a child. "What the hell are you talking about!" Howard's thought process couldn't see that Erin was falling further into her delusions and would just assume that he was toying with him. Poking at the beast just to see what happens. His eyes would roll as she demanded a truth from him. However memories would flood his mind from her prompt. The first time time they met, the many times they drew blood from each other. The incident in the library or the blood letting in the Ravenclaw dormitories. His feeling for her were complicated. Did he care for her? Or was it more that she had always been a constant in a life of seemingly endless undoings? Both were neither smart enough or emotionally stable enough to define their relationship, but there was always something that drew them together.
Say something only Howard would say? Fuck you!, would be his first impulse, but he currently wasn't in the position to say. Knowing her, he wouldn't put it past her to leave him in this hole to rot. So, he would play along. His hand would raise, palm facing away from her and index finger extended. The nail was discolored more than the others, the flesh still blackened on the bed from the cursed touch of the Hags. "You brought me to them. The crones in the dungeons." Would it be enough to to bypass her paranoia? Or would Howard stay in the hole for another round of questioning?
18 Apr 2021, 20:31
Pusillanimous Posture
She was buying time, waiting for the sun to rise. The darkness blanketed the scene, the faint illumination of starlight did little for the part-Veela's comparatively dull senses. She could make out his features only because he was so very pale. Photoluminescent some could saw, even the darkness could not hide the teen's scowl. She had seen this before of course, people whose forms were mimicked by others. Their lives, ambitions and identities seamlessly stolen. There were so many with the same...face, it was dizzying. But it was for the most part the same faces, as if there was a mold from which her peers were created.
A weight could be felt on her chest as she made that revelation. That they were the same, copies. She wondered if any of them were real. If they were a copy of an original or if they were a creation of their maker, their numbers an act of repetition. Was Howard the first? She was certain Howard was real, his company had a profound impact on her that could not be created. Was this a copy or was Howard one of a kind?
"I'm not chasing you, Erin!"
It knew her name, with the utterance of her appellation a rush of cold passed through her.
"I was coming to see what you were actually running from?"
The irritated captive claimed. Not that she believed him. He, or more than likely it knew too much. It knew not only her name, it knew Howard's also. It knew his voice, his face.
"Us?! Who else is there?"
A misunderstanding that would only deepen. "As if I am going to tell you deathwitch," she snapped. She was not going to feed him any more information than he already has. Information was a commodity that could be used against her like it was now. Thankfully she knew better, she knew that she needed to guard her secrets as well as those she defended. Merlin, he sounded just like him. They had already gotten to Thomas, although she had come to terms with the fact that they never took him, the alliance was always a lie. She simply refused to admit that. A pitiful truth, she valued their alliance despite its one-sided nature. Maybe Thomas was a copy also, only there was but one of LeStrange and many Paracelsus'. She shook her head, an argument inside her mind that she would mouth but no words would escape her mouth. "No, they would have broken the mold with him and then beat the crap out of the mold-maker," she muttered out loud a statement that had no context to nobody in particular, she was her only company besides the deathwitch.
Take a better look at least.
A reasonable command that resulted in the uncharacteristic use of her wand. She was not particularly studious, rarely in class, yet even she was capable of such a remedial spell.
"Careful where you're aiming that thing."
'Howard' demanded. Yet the light lingered, a clinical observation in truth. She never looked closely at Howard. She lacked the estrogen-fueled interest of her peers. She did not spent hours staring at the boys in her house or other houses for that matter in the ways some of the other girls did. She frowned, the shadows cast by her expression deepened the lines of her face. "Damn, you look just like him," she commented. She wanted to find Howard and show him his doppelganger but he would not likely find the amusement and fascination she did in the detail and the skill it likely took to manifest such... perfection. Enviable really.
"What the hell are you talking about!"
The indignation, the annoyance. He was playing it well. It would have been a reasonable conclusion to believe him. A part of her did believe him. The silly, easily deceived part. The part that believed in Thomas, in Jack. The part of her that had failed her at every turn. The part of her that she would repress and push away. They knew things. They knew too much, somehow. They were dangerous.
They needed to die.
Still, she played the game. For whatever reason they had deigned her important or interesting enough to manipulate, to mither. He would raise a hand, show a darkness that she could barely see. She would squint her eyes, past the illumination of the Lumos. She never knew the fate of his hand, after the nail was extracted and a stone was granted. A night hag and its hag stone, a porous, smooth stone made from the man it was tethered to. A means to track him, but also to communicate with him if he knew what to listen for. The whispers in his head, in his sleep. The secrets they would murmur into his head.
It was what he wanted, the creature he had become trapped in that pit. A treacherous thirst, a monkey paw deal. He, like Erin, had gained what they wanted only to ultimately revile what they had become. To forget what they wanted in the first place.
Perhaps at this very moment she had learned something. Learned something of the truth Howard's fate from his facsimile. They left something behind. Beyond the crushed stone he had obstinately destroyed in his powerful grip.
"You brought me to them. The crones in the dungeons."
He, or rather it knew. She would glower at him, at 'Howard.' The world was still dark, it would be hours before help came and they would likely take the imitation's word for it. That he was indeed the real Howard. That he was trapped in this hole and that he needed saving. They would believe his lies. "I did not bring you anywhere," her nares flared. She had brought Howard.
Erin was thankfully for a lack of a better term, stupid. One could simply say if they were being polite -- she had a photographic memory but the lens cover was glued on. She would drop her wand at the edge of the pit, leaving her light behind her. She returned to her tree. Her 'safety' and she punched it.
Thunk.
Thunk.
Thunk.
The branches would rattle, the trunk would shake but the tree would not break. Her knuckles would however bloody.
Thunk.
Thunk.
Thunk.
Yet she would stubbornly endeavor. The bark would break away to reveal smooth hard wood beneath, yet it would not yield to her persistent blows. It was an exercise in futility, her knuckles too broken to go on she would neglect the wand to her rear that could have shattered the trunk of the tree if utilized appropriately. She merely switched hands.
Thunk.
Thunk.
Thunk.
A dent was left in the trunk but the tree would not yield to her might, it was not of flesh and blood. She overestimated her own power, thinking she would fell a tree with her bare hands. She was strong, but she was no behemoth.
She would have to find another way.
Erin would not be gone for long, stumbling in the dark she would find it. Her precious 'weights.' In more accurate description, they were large, heavy rocks, cinderblocks in some cases that had somehow found their ways onto the grounds and in other cases just large rocks with an even distribution of weight that Erin did not find too awkward to lift. They were her favorite rocks. She would miss them, but this was for a good cause.
With a grunt of exertion, not far from the very pit that housed 'Howard' she would lift the first of several rocks. The wand was left behind for a reason, one that would be apparent now. It was to mark the pit so that she would not join 'Howard' within.
Howard would see Erin standing over the edge of the pit with a rock that was larger than her head held in her hands. The boulder trembled and she bore a wide stance. It as all she could do to hold the stone loft and she would no more. "There can only be one," she announced as she let the stone drop.
A weight could be felt on her chest as she made that revelation. That they were the same, copies. She wondered if any of them were real. If they were a copy of an original or if they were a creation of their maker, their numbers an act of repetition. Was Howard the first? She was certain Howard was real, his company had a profound impact on her that could not be created. Was this a copy or was Howard one of a kind?
"I'm not chasing you, Erin!"
It knew her name, with the utterance of her appellation a rush of cold passed through her.
"I was coming to see what you were actually running from?"
The irritated captive claimed. Not that she believed him. He, or more than likely it knew too much. It knew not only her name, it knew Howard's also. It knew his voice, his face.
"Us?! Who else is there?"
A misunderstanding that would only deepen. "As if I am going to tell you deathwitch," she snapped. She was not going to feed him any more information than he already has. Information was a commodity that could be used against her like it was now. Thankfully she knew better, she knew that she needed to guard her secrets as well as those she defended. Merlin, he sounded just like him. They had already gotten to Thomas, although she had come to terms with the fact that they never took him, the alliance was always a lie. She simply refused to admit that. A pitiful truth, she valued their alliance despite its one-sided nature. Maybe Thomas was a copy also, only there was but one of LeStrange and many Paracelsus'. She shook her head, an argument inside her mind that she would mouth but no words would escape her mouth. "No, they would have broken the mold with him and then beat the crap out of the mold-maker," she muttered out loud a statement that had no context to nobody in particular, she was her only company besides the deathwitch.
Take a better look at least.
A reasonable command that resulted in the uncharacteristic use of her wand. She was not particularly studious, rarely in class, yet even she was capable of such a remedial spell.
"Careful where you're aiming that thing."
'Howard' demanded. Yet the light lingered, a clinical observation in truth. She never looked closely at Howard. She lacked the estrogen-fueled interest of her peers. She did not spent hours staring at the boys in her house or other houses for that matter in the ways some of the other girls did. She frowned, the shadows cast by her expression deepened the lines of her face. "Damn, you look just like him," she commented. She wanted to find Howard and show him his doppelganger but he would not likely find the amusement and fascination she did in the detail and the skill it likely took to manifest such... perfection. Enviable really.
"What the hell are you talking about!"
The indignation, the annoyance. He was playing it well. It would have been a reasonable conclusion to believe him. A part of her did believe him. The silly, easily deceived part. The part that believed in Thomas, in Jack. The part of her that had failed her at every turn. The part of her that she would repress and push away. They knew things. They knew too much, somehow. They were dangerous.
They needed to die.
Still, she played the game. For whatever reason they had deigned her important or interesting enough to manipulate, to mither. He would raise a hand, show a darkness that she could barely see. She would squint her eyes, past the illumination of the Lumos. She never knew the fate of his hand, after the nail was extracted and a stone was granted. A night hag and its hag stone, a porous, smooth stone made from the man it was tethered to. A means to track him, but also to communicate with him if he knew what to listen for. The whispers in his head, in his sleep. The secrets they would murmur into his head.
For him -- the chase and the wild hunt.
The color red.
An unrelenting hunger that could not be sated or quelled.
The exhilaration of being alive.
Of being more powerful.
Of being in control.
The color red.
An unrelenting hunger that could not be sated or quelled.
The exhilaration of being alive.
Of being more powerful.
Of being in control.
It was what he wanted, the creature he had become trapped in that pit. A treacherous thirst, a monkey paw deal. He, like Erin, had gained what they wanted only to ultimately revile what they had become. To forget what they wanted in the first place.
Perhaps at this very moment she had learned something. Learned something of the truth Howard's fate from his facsimile. They left something behind. Beyond the crushed stone he had obstinately destroyed in his powerful grip.
"You brought me to them. The crones in the dungeons."
He, or rather it knew. She would glower at him, at 'Howard.' The world was still dark, it would be hours before help came and they would likely take the imitation's word for it. That he was indeed the real Howard. That he was trapped in this hole and that he needed saving. They would believe his lies. "I did not bring you anywhere," her nares flared. She had brought Howard.
Erin was thankfully for a lack of a better term, stupid. One could simply say if they were being polite -- she had a photographic memory but the lens cover was glued on. She would drop her wand at the edge of the pit, leaving her light behind her. She returned to her tree. Her 'safety' and she punched it.
Thunk.
Thunk.
Thunk.
The branches would rattle, the trunk would shake but the tree would not break. Her knuckles would however bloody.
Thunk.
Thunk.
Thunk.
Yet she would stubbornly endeavor. The bark would break away to reveal smooth hard wood beneath, yet it would not yield to her persistent blows. It was an exercise in futility, her knuckles too broken to go on she would neglect the wand to her rear that could have shattered the trunk of the tree if utilized appropriately. She merely switched hands.
Thunk.
Thunk.
Thunk.
A dent was left in the trunk but the tree would not yield to her might, it was not of flesh and blood. She overestimated her own power, thinking she would fell a tree with her bare hands. She was strong, but she was no behemoth.
She would have to find another way.
She could not wait until he was found and recovered. Given the opportunity to seamlessly replace or emulate the real Howard. No, if she could not trap him and find the real Howard, she would have to put an end to the faker.Howard --
Erin is trying to kill you.
Erin would not be gone for long, stumbling in the dark she would find it. Her precious 'weights.' In more accurate description, they were large, heavy rocks, cinderblocks in some cases that had somehow found their ways onto the grounds and in other cases just large rocks with an even distribution of weight that Erin did not find too awkward to lift. They were her favorite rocks. She would miss them, but this was for a good cause.
With a grunt of exertion, not far from the very pit that housed 'Howard' she would lift the first of several rocks. The wand was left behind for a reason, one that would be apparent now. It was to mark the pit so that she would not join 'Howard' within.
Howard would see Erin standing over the edge of the pit with a rock that was larger than her head held in her hands. The boulder trembled and she bore a wide stance. It as all she could do to hold the stone loft and she would no more. "There can only be one," she announced as she let the stone drop.
Miss or hit, she would simply try again.Action: Erin drops a stone in the pit. It is aimed at Howard.
Just a trick of the lighting they said...
26 Apr 2021, 22:31
Pusillanimous Posture
Deathwitch. Howard would run clawed fingers through his hair in irritation as Erin continued with her delusions. He was not intelligent or caring enough to realize just how unstable his bestest frenemy had become. Like a parasite the paranoia had dug its way into her mind and spread, consuming what was left of her sanity. It was odd that he would dismiss her so easily. In a world full of fairy tales come true would it be such a stretch to imagine that the school was infested with body snatchers. Hags had laid claim to the woods and dungeons, a living darkness crept its way through the castle like a cancer yet he would still deny her with out much thought. It was typical of Howard though. His quick temper and straight forward mind set often pushed him to shove away what was hard to contemplate. Easier to ignore than to put in the effort. Especially when his anger took the driver's seat, which was more often than not. Allowing that emotion to control him was just too easy. It kept him safe from all of those complicated thoughts and feelings. All he had to do was step aside and the rage would do the rest.
"I'm not a deathwitch!" Howard would repeat the word back to her. It was hard to remember when the first time he had heard her say it, if he had at all. Merlin knows who or what she got it from, but like the rest of her peers and educators he would wave it away as you would a child's fantasy. A pity really that he didn't take her more seriously. Not that he had the emotional intelligence to really help her, but much like the Muggle world it seemed that mental health was often an afterthought. If only they were paying attention perhaps they could do something to help the addled part-veela. They never do, not until something breaks. Howard was hardly a friend and as it often happened the pair would drift away from each other for extended periods of time, but it seemed that others were all too eager to take advantage of her fragile mind. Not that he would be privy to Thomas' actions or the fact that she was led to believe that there were multiples running around the castle. It really was a shame that people chose to abuse her instead of extending a merciful hand, but that's often the way of the world. Merlin knows what factors had led to her current state of mind. Erin Ryan was no angel, but she had fallen through the cracks. As guilty of transgression as she may be she was still a child, one long abandoned by this crazy magical world.
"Erin! It's me you dumb ass!" Howard would continue to argue, sure that his damaged finger would be enough to prove his truth. It was the night that had cemented their fates to one another. One of the reasons they would always find a way back to each other no matter how hard they might try to stay apart. There was a streak of darkness that flowed through them that would drive them into the bowels of the castle and urge them into deals with the wicked crones. Much like the hole he found himself in now it was nothing but a trap. For Erin it would cost her sanity, for Howard he would lose part of his humanity. Heavy prices to pay for what they so desperately sought, but that was the nature of those evil Hags. To twist and manipulate, but they can really only work with what is already there. Howard could blame them all he wanted, but his yearning for power and control was what really sent him into their darkened grasps. Surely she would remember. Like battle hardened warriors they shared a bond through trauma. However, his words would do nothing to sway her.
Howard would cover his eyes and try to figure out what she was doing. He lost sight of her, but the sound that followed set him on edge as a series of loud thunks filled the space around them. “Erin! What are you doing?!” The situation was rapidly deteriorating. Not but a moment later he would see her return, the light from her wand just enough to see her figure. She stood with arms overhead, the object in her hands obviously heavy. What the hell was she up to!? It would click on Howard’s mind almost too late as the large rock came hurdling down upon him. His predatory instincts the only thing that kept his skull from being crushed as he lunged to the side. The rock would still graze his arm, the impact enough to scratch and bruise the flesh. Howard would hiss in pain as he spun and retreated a step back. As his mouth opened fangs would plunge from the recesses in his gums as his finger instinctively curled into claws, but what good would they do him in such a predicament?! His mind raced as it became apparent that Erin was far beyond playing games. The paranoia had sunk in too deep, she was out for blood and her delusion demanded murder. The first rock had nearly made its mark and soon enough she would arm herself with another. Brawn would do him no good. For the first time in a long while Howard’s hand would reach into his robe and draw his wand. He took aim at her stomach. “FLIPENDO!!”
"I'm not a deathwitch!" Howard would repeat the word back to her. It was hard to remember when the first time he had heard her say it, if he had at all. Merlin knows who or what she got it from, but like the rest of her peers and educators he would wave it away as you would a child's fantasy. A pity really that he didn't take her more seriously. Not that he had the emotional intelligence to really help her, but much like the Muggle world it seemed that mental health was often an afterthought. If only they were paying attention perhaps they could do something to help the addled part-veela. They never do, not until something breaks. Howard was hardly a friend and as it often happened the pair would drift away from each other for extended periods of time, but it seemed that others were all too eager to take advantage of her fragile mind. Not that he would be privy to Thomas' actions or the fact that she was led to believe that there were multiples running around the castle. It really was a shame that people chose to abuse her instead of extending a merciful hand, but that's often the way of the world. Merlin knows what factors had led to her current state of mind. Erin Ryan was no angel, but she had fallen through the cracks. As guilty of transgression as she may be she was still a child, one long abandoned by this crazy magical world.
"Erin! It's me you dumb ass!" Howard would continue to argue, sure that his damaged finger would be enough to prove his truth. It was the night that had cemented their fates to one another. One of the reasons they would always find a way back to each other no matter how hard they might try to stay apart. There was a streak of darkness that flowed through them that would drive them into the bowels of the castle and urge them into deals with the wicked crones. Much like the hole he found himself in now it was nothing but a trap. For Erin it would cost her sanity, for Howard he would lose part of his humanity. Heavy prices to pay for what they so desperately sought, but that was the nature of those evil Hags. To twist and manipulate, but they can really only work with what is already there. Howard could blame them all he wanted, but his yearning for power and control was what really sent him into their darkened grasps. Surely she would remember. Like battle hardened warriors they shared a bond through trauma. However, his words would do nothing to sway her.
Howard would cover his eyes and try to figure out what she was doing. He lost sight of her, but the sound that followed set him on edge as a series of loud thunks filled the space around them. “Erin! What are you doing?!” The situation was rapidly deteriorating. Not but a moment later he would see her return, the light from her wand just enough to see her figure. She stood with arms overhead, the object in her hands obviously heavy. What the hell was she up to!? It would click on Howard’s mind almost too late as the large rock came hurdling down upon him. His predatory instincts the only thing that kept his skull from being crushed as he lunged to the side. The rock would still graze his arm, the impact enough to scratch and bruise the flesh. Howard would hiss in pain as he spun and retreated a step back. As his mouth opened fangs would plunge from the recesses in his gums as his finger instinctively curled into claws, but what good would they do him in such a predicament?! His mind raced as it became apparent that Erin was far beyond playing games. The paranoia had sunk in too deep, she was out for blood and her delusion demanded murder. The first rock had nearly made its mark and soon enough she would arm herself with another. Brawn would do him no good. For the first time in a long while Howard’s hand would reach into his robe and draw his wand. He took aim at her stomach. “FLIPENDO!!”
28 Apr 2021, 02:48
Pusillanimous Posture
Howard truly did not understand her. He never did. Had he, he would understand that he was the reason why. It had always been him, from the first time their paths had crossed and Erin snapped. She was as cruel as nature allowed, as the world wanted her. It was so much easier to fill the static with screams and roars of anger than it was laughter. To fill the void with something rather than wait for the impossible lie -- that friendship and love were more than romantic ideals.
Then she found Howard, the stereotype. The lie. A clean-cut, dullard of a boy who conformed. That was how she saw him, another barely formed concept with a modicum of sentience that was wasted on a man that would never achieve and would never try. She was an empathetic psychopath, she understood and by proxy even experienced sentiments that people like him took for granted. Ire and frustration, fear and annoyance. They came easily, the Howard in the pit was overflowing. The irony of her madness was his anger would have been a repellant had it not been for the day they had met, the one and only time she had felt something that was not darkness or pain.
A poetic concept to defeat a monster with the power of love but that was what had happened that day. His thoughts of his mother, the warmth like a way of sunlight on a cold, cloudy day. The feeling of a soft, heavy blanket or a pair of arms around shoulders. No burden, she could float. There was a peace. A joy. A calm. A satisfaction that she would have never known or realized had it not been for that moment. The instant that she learned that it was not a lie, that love existed would change her. Not to either of their benefit.
A wicked child finding a monster was hardly difficult. The world was full of dark beings, the crones were drawn to the places where the children were. Seeking the deviant and the curious, the selfish and the ambitious. She was easy prey but in truth she was the hunter, she sought what they offered and with a voracious hunger she consumed their offering. To feel, everything. The pain, the anger, the fear and the betrayal which were as she well-knew more common were worth those momentary glimmers, of hope and friendship. Of victory and love. That the bad was worth the good.
The price was something she would not miss or so she had believed. In exchange, a locket that if one was to open the heavy silver trinket they would find a throbbing mass of flesh. Flesh taken from her much like the nail from Howard and something was placed in its place.
Howard represented something to her -- a human potential she aspired for. An 'endless stream' she had called him many times in her head and with frequency to the crones. A gift for the one who inspired such humanity, such mortal want. A desire to better understand and emulate, even posses his passions. Not his love for her, that was laughable but her capacity to feel that for anyone.
Yet her first intuition was the most accurate. Love was a lie. Friends were a lie. Faces were a lie. Promises, assertions, mediations, mediators -- they were manipulations. Howard was there when she first learned the term deathwitch. It was the Ravenclaw Common Room, the bathrooms to be specific. was there the first time Erin had learned the term from a one Kaegen Deathmote. A warning he would never elaborate on, fleeing... always. Answers refused, just the reassertion of danger and no reason to lie.
In fact, there was never a reason or a need to lie. Yet Jack's many faces confounded her. Yet others could see the truth, the lie of their flesh. Just not her. Yet the refused to share in this intimate secret. Rather they allowed it, the masquerade. It was a humorous diversion perhaps, but it went far past a childish pastime or prank to the span of months. In that time, she felt and yearned. She was happy in her delusion. Until she realized what she always knew, happiness, love and friends were a lie.
"I'm not a deathwitch!"
Howard repeated, an insistence that was the truth but her grip on reality had become strained. Her descent was logical but she was mad non-the-less. Fighting demons that were imaginary but in the place of true monsters that were merely adjacent. She was not able to trust her own eyes. She was not able to trust the people that she knew. She could not trust the attestations of others, they were not her allies, they would not tell her the truth. She trusted nobody and she was alone. She would be betrayed. She would be forgotten.
Yet she found the lie of Howard to be particularly repugnant. More than the many Jacks whose whole history with her was a lie. She would not allow this charade to persist. For this shifter, deathwitch, skin walker, the name mattered not. She would not call back to the false one as she gripped her lifting stone.
“Erin! What are you doing?!”
"There can only be one," was her only answer. The false Howard was fast, the stone would graze his arm. It would be then that he drew his wand, evidence that this was a lie. Howard was like her in more ways than he would willingly admit. A physical creature, it would be with tooth and flaw and steely flesh that he would exert his will. Through brawn rather than arcane might.
She would start to scramble away, her feet scraping the earth as she tried to move out of the line of fire. It was faster to point and shoot a drawn wand than it was to escape.
“FLIPENDO!!”
The pit demon roared. It would feel as if she was kicked in the gut by a bull as she was shot away from the lip of the pit and she was knocked out of sight. She would hit the ground with her back, her head would snap back and hit the cold earth. A burst of light would fill her vision with sparks.
Howard in his pit with be left with a stone, a square block that would grant him a foot. A bit of height, there was still the leap and climb if he were to escape the deadfall. Erin was not unconscious, just dizzied by the effective assault. A groan would escape her. She would rise again, far from a fragile flower. Her hand would blindly seek the trunk of the tree she called 'safety' in her head. "Liar... liars... all of you," she grumbled out loud as she regained her footing. Stubbornness was a trait that even madness could not wash away.
"I am tired of the bullshit Howard" for lack of a better or a true name. "One of you bastards is enough," she proclaimed. She knew better than to approach the edge of the pit again, it would only invite another knock-back.
The tree was almost as stubborn as she was. That left her only logical alternative because it was not as if she was going to draw a wand, the lifting stones. She would heft another stone, the same size as the last. To the precipice.
Again with a stone. Aim for the head.
Then she found Howard, the stereotype. The lie. A clean-cut, dullard of a boy who conformed. That was how she saw him, another barely formed concept with a modicum of sentience that was wasted on a man that would never achieve and would never try. She was an empathetic psychopath, she understood and by proxy even experienced sentiments that people like him took for granted. Ire and frustration, fear and annoyance. They came easily, the Howard in the pit was overflowing. The irony of her madness was his anger would have been a repellant had it not been for the day they had met, the one and only time she had felt something that was not darkness or pain.
A poetic concept to defeat a monster with the power of love but that was what had happened that day. His thoughts of his mother, the warmth like a way of sunlight on a cold, cloudy day. The feeling of a soft, heavy blanket or a pair of arms around shoulders. No burden, she could float. There was a peace. A joy. A calm. A satisfaction that she would have never known or realized had it not been for that moment. The instant that she learned that it was not a lie, that love existed would change her. Not to either of their benefit.
A wicked child finding a monster was hardly difficult. The world was full of dark beings, the crones were drawn to the places where the children were. Seeking the deviant and the curious, the selfish and the ambitious. She was easy prey but in truth she was the hunter, she sought what they offered and with a voracious hunger she consumed their offering. To feel, everything. The pain, the anger, the fear and the betrayal which were as she well-knew more common were worth those momentary glimmers, of hope and friendship. Of victory and love. That the bad was worth the good.
The price was something she would not miss or so she had believed. In exchange, a locket that if one was to open the heavy silver trinket they would find a throbbing mass of flesh. Flesh taken from her much like the nail from Howard and something was placed in its place.
Howard represented something to her -- a human potential she aspired for. An 'endless stream' she had called him many times in her head and with frequency to the crones. A gift for the one who inspired such humanity, such mortal want. A desire to better understand and emulate, even posses his passions. Not his love for her, that was laughable but her capacity to feel that for anyone.
Yet her first intuition was the most accurate. Love was a lie. Friends were a lie. Faces were a lie. Promises, assertions, mediations, mediators -- they were manipulations. Howard was there when she first learned the term deathwitch. It was the Ravenclaw Common Room, the bathrooms to be specific. was there the first time Erin had learned the term from a one Kaegen Deathmote. A warning he would never elaborate on, fleeing... always. Answers refused, just the reassertion of danger and no reason to lie.
In fact, there was never a reason or a need to lie. Yet Jack's many faces confounded her. Yet others could see the truth, the lie of their flesh. Just not her. Yet the refused to share in this intimate secret. Rather they allowed it, the masquerade. It was a humorous diversion perhaps, but it went far past a childish pastime or prank to the span of months. In that time, she felt and yearned. She was happy in her delusion. Until she realized what she always knew, happiness, love and friends were a lie.
"I'm not a deathwitch!"
Howard repeated, an insistence that was the truth but her grip on reality had become strained. Her descent was logical but she was mad non-the-less. Fighting demons that were imaginary but in the place of true monsters that were merely adjacent. She was not able to trust her own eyes. She was not able to trust the people that she knew. She could not trust the attestations of others, they were not her allies, they would not tell her the truth. She trusted nobody and she was alone. She would be betrayed. She would be forgotten.
Yet she found the lie of Howard to be particularly repugnant. More than the many Jacks whose whole history with her was a lie. She would not allow this charade to persist. For this shifter, deathwitch, skin walker, the name mattered not. She would not call back to the false one as she gripped her lifting stone.
“Erin! What are you doing?!”
"There can only be one," was her only answer. The false Howard was fast, the stone would graze his arm. It would be then that he drew his wand, evidence that this was a lie. Howard was like her in more ways than he would willingly admit. A physical creature, it would be with tooth and flaw and steely flesh that he would exert his will. Through brawn rather than arcane might.
She would start to scramble away, her feet scraping the earth as she tried to move out of the line of fire. It was faster to point and shoot a drawn wand than it was to escape.
“FLIPENDO!!”
The pit demon roared. It would feel as if she was kicked in the gut by a bull as she was shot away from the lip of the pit and she was knocked out of sight. She would hit the ground with her back, her head would snap back and hit the cold earth. A burst of light would fill her vision with sparks.
Howard in his pit with be left with a stone, a square block that would grant him a foot. A bit of height, there was still the leap and climb if he were to escape the deadfall. Erin was not unconscious, just dizzied by the effective assault. A groan would escape her. She would rise again, far from a fragile flower. Her hand would blindly seek the trunk of the tree she called 'safety' in her head. "Liar... liars... all of you," she grumbled out loud as she regained her footing. Stubbornness was a trait that even madness could not wash away.
"I am tired of the bullshit Howard" for lack of a better or a true name. "One of you bastards is enough," she proclaimed. She knew better than to approach the edge of the pit again, it would only invite another knock-back.
The tree was almost as stubborn as she was. That left her only logical alternative because it was not as if she was going to draw a wand, the lifting stones. She would heft another stone, the same size as the last. To the precipice.
Again with a stone. Aim for the head.
@Howard WhiteClimbing on the stone you should be able to barely reach the edge of the pit and climb up since murder is likely not part of the playdate plan.
Just a trick of the lighting they said...
6 May 2021, 04:00
Pusillanimous Posture
Howard could not understand Erin, not fully. Emotion flowed through him just like the endless stream she used to describe him. Regardless of whether it was anger or joy, hatred or love, he would feel it all to its fullest. He would of course take this for granted, but how could he not? This was why he could never know what it was like to be her. It was impossible. Howard had only scratched the surface before as he had simply assumed that she was a predator. Not in the same way he was as she most likely didn't thirst for blood, but in the way that she fed off the emotions of others. If he could understand more it would seem less malicious. Erin of course could be cruel at times, but at what lengths would anyone else go to if that was the only way for them to feel something? It was that very need of hers that had bonded them to one another. Howard had refused her his anger by thinking of his mother. To him it was to deny her the satisfaction, but he would not know just what effect that would have on her. As time went on he would drop his false exterior of "Mr. Nice Guy" and let his true colors shine. He would assume that it was the darkness that flowed through him that often drove them back into one another's lives. If only he could see the truth.
The truth was that his capacity for emotion was what drove her into the wicked grasps of the crones. Just as he had, Erin would sacrifice a piece of herself to the Hags when they struck their evil deal. However, where he had lost she would exchange. A piece of living flesh for the chance of feeling something. Of course the world would be cruel to her as those around her chose to abuse her instead of help as she slipped further and further away. It may have been a delusion that allowed her to yearn and feel happiness, but it would be inhumanity of others that would leave her further damaged. What a terror for a girl born without the capacity to feel to be treated in such a way. Like giving a blind person sight only to stab them in the eyes. What they left in their wake was more broken than before. The evidence was currently raining down upon Howard in the form of stones.
The first would barely miss its mark as it smashed against his shoulder. A quick flick of his wand would buy him only a moment as it would take much more than a jinx to take down the sturdy Erin Ryan. Fortunately for him she had sacrificed one of her best toy and a cinderblock was left at the bottom of the pit. Given his height and long limbs it might just be enough to provide an escape. Howard would lunge forward and use his momentum to leap up the side of the pit, but Erin was not through with him next. His clawed fingers would dig into earth just the stone made impact to the top of his head with a sickening thud. Instinct alone kept his hands firmly grasped into the ground as his vision swam and popped with flashes of light. The warm, sticky sensation trickled down his cheek as the blood began to flow from the wound. Gone was any concern for the girl as the adrenaline pumped through his veins. The only thought left now was survival as his predatory instincts took over. Fight or flight? Easy choice.
Howard's strength would pull him from the pit. He would be a touch slow to his feet as he shook the last of the spotlights from his vision. The pain was forgotten as blood red eyes honed in on his target. Fangs and claws were at the ready. With a powerful lunge his would make his move against her. If successful he would wrap her up in a tackle and slam her into the ground. His hands would go to her throat and squeeze (choke hold). If she were to evade he would attempt to spin around and ready for the counter attack.
The truth was that his capacity for emotion was what drove her into the wicked grasps of the crones. Just as he had, Erin would sacrifice a piece of herself to the Hags when they struck their evil deal. However, where he had lost she would exchange. A piece of living flesh for the chance of feeling something. Of course the world would be cruel to her as those around her chose to abuse her instead of help as she slipped further and further away. It may have been a delusion that allowed her to yearn and feel happiness, but it would be inhumanity of others that would leave her further damaged. What a terror for a girl born without the capacity to feel to be treated in such a way. Like giving a blind person sight only to stab them in the eyes. What they left in their wake was more broken than before. The evidence was currently raining down upon Howard in the form of stones.
The first would barely miss its mark as it smashed against his shoulder. A quick flick of his wand would buy him only a moment as it would take much more than a jinx to take down the sturdy Erin Ryan. Fortunately for him she had sacrificed one of her best toy and a cinderblock was left at the bottom of the pit. Given his height and long limbs it might just be enough to provide an escape. Howard would lunge forward and use his momentum to leap up the side of the pit, but Erin was not through with him next. His clawed fingers would dig into earth just the stone made impact to the top of his head with a sickening thud. Instinct alone kept his hands firmly grasped into the ground as his vision swam and popped with flashes of light. The warm, sticky sensation trickled down his cheek as the blood began to flow from the wound. Gone was any concern for the girl as the adrenaline pumped through his veins. The only thought left now was survival as his predatory instincts took over. Fight or flight? Easy choice.
Howard's strength would pull him from the pit. He would be a touch slow to his feet as he shook the last of the spotlights from his vision. The pain was forgotten as blood red eyes honed in on his target. Fangs and claws were at the ready. With a powerful lunge his would make his move against her. If successful he would wrap her up in a tackle and slam her into the ground. His hands would go to her throat and squeeze (choke hold). If she were to evade he would attempt to spin around and ready for the counter attack.
14 May 2021, 23:10
Pusillanimous Posture
@Howard White
It was odd that in ways they understood one another and that this very ends, this clash was truly inevitable. The unstoppable versus the unmovable, their dynamic was nothing short of cataclysmic. Yet despite all appearances, it was not blood or venom, darkness or some black curse that bound them but rather it was something simpler. It was truly a fool's folly to believe that power came from one's wrath, one's desperation or want. Love was by far the most dangerous and the most painful emotion, a driver of ambition and sorrow, a source of strength and a true Achilles.
All she had was her memory, the last intact vestige of her identity and humanity. She chose what she would value and when this journey came to its conclusion she would hold on as long as she could. An exercise in futility as well as endurance but she did not care. She was driven by choice and her memory of those brief sentiments and she chose to kick this faker's ass. What she lacked in arcane skill she made up for in brute strength.
Had it been a fake, it would have died in that hole. She would not have mourned the replica, an echo of the original with intentions her maddened mind failed to define. Nobody would have mourned him, like the rest. She would drop the stone, aiming for his crown with clinical intentions. A blow to the head, end him quick. There was no ire in her actions, no want to make it suffer, just end it.
She should have thought twice and simply ran.
Spindly limbs would reach up, his claws would dig into the stony earth. To rip and to claw, to feel the primal satisfaction of ripping into and through something -- the earth. The pull of ones weight, the vertical scramble up the side of the pit. Erin would hear it, the scraping of earth that crumbled in his hand; that he ripped through with the ease of a predator. Urgency demanded it, she released the stone onto his head with concussive force. It would have knocked down anyone less Howard White and perhaps Quinn Healy. Who would have thought a snake's most relevant adversaries would be a couple of powder puffs.
The world might have swam, but it did nothing to slow him. He barreled out of the pit like some sort of wild beast. Clots of earth rained behind him as he lurched forward from the hole and Erin took a staggering step back. Her eyes scanned the ground, her unyielding tree dubbed 'safety' in her mind would grant her no advantage and fail to live up to its name. His hair matted, a mixture of dirt and blood that sluggishly trickled from a fresh wound on his scalp. It was strange how quickly one can become unrecognizable as their expression contorts into a terrible expression.
"...oh shit," she muttered. Fight or flight, an easy choice indeed. Howard did not look like some boy. A rival. He looked like some sort of monster. He looked as he truly was and it was monstrous. She would try to run. She was fast. She was strong. She processed the endurance necessary to outrun him. Fangs breeched his gums and Erin looked away.
She always looked to where she was running. Her options were simple but few. this was her only pit, it had taken her days to dig. She could run for the woods or the Whomping Willow, let the environment overwhelm her pursuant. Alternatively, she could rush the castle. There were complicit, forgetful, passive witnesses there. She would be letting them in, whatever this creature was as doubt started to sink in -- what if this thing actually was Howard? A fleeting, fearful moment of regret as well as reticence. Hesitation made her easy prey, not that she would have outran him. In truth, Howard was the closest thing there was in this school to a physical peer that she knew of.
Erin would still try, too stubborn to let logic rule her life. She was get a few steps as she chose to run in the opposite direction of the castle. To pull the opportunist away from the school. Likely her last heroic intention. She would feel something hit her in the side. It felt like being hit by a rampaging bull or the equivalent to a small (probably electric) muggle vehicle. The ground would seemingly be ripped out from under her and she would extend her hands to catch herself as she fell. Her palms would hit the ground, the stony floor abrading her hands.
Flight was out of the question, all that as left was fight.
She would grab a handful of stone and sand or rocky earth. Whatever her fingers could grip, 'fair play' was for losers and for those that made the rules to determine what was allegedly 'fair.' She would fling the bits of grass and dirt her hand had robbed from the earth "nyeh!"
Blinded or not, most certainly enraged. Claws would wrap around her neck and slam her back against the ground. A moment of panic would wash over her as she felt his weight and his grip would tighten. She could feel her airway collapse. She could not say anything, otherwise she would have said something defiant. Told him that he would get no further. That... well, a secret she would not have to share after all. Not that she gave up. Her hands were still free, not that she had a creatures claws her he would feel her pitiful nails attempt to dig into his back.
She had few options.
1. Attempt to roll, remove his leverage.
That was the sickest part. That panic was a feeling and it was hers. It was exhilarating. It was something she had always lacked and... No, she was most certainly a crazy person. She would get herself killed or worse. It needed to be Plan #1. Yes, try to roll. Use her leverage, or rather his lack of balance as he tried to crush her windpipe to topple him over.
It was odd that in ways they understood one another and that this very ends, this clash was truly inevitable. The unstoppable versus the unmovable, their dynamic was nothing short of cataclysmic. Yet despite all appearances, it was not blood or venom, darkness or some black curse that bound them but rather it was something simpler. It was truly a fool's folly to believe that power came from one's wrath, one's desperation or want. Love was by far the most dangerous and the most painful emotion, a driver of ambition and sorrow, a source of strength and a true Achilles.
All she had was her memory, the last intact vestige of her identity and humanity. She chose what she would value and when this journey came to its conclusion she would hold on as long as she could. An exercise in futility as well as endurance but she did not care. She was driven by choice and her memory of those brief sentiments and she chose to kick this faker's ass. What she lacked in arcane skill she made up for in brute strength.
Had it been a fake, it would have died in that hole. She would not have mourned the replica, an echo of the original with intentions her maddened mind failed to define. Nobody would have mourned him, like the rest. She would drop the stone, aiming for his crown with clinical intentions. A blow to the head, end him quick. There was no ire in her actions, no want to make it suffer, just end it.
She should have thought twice and simply ran.
Spindly limbs would reach up, his claws would dig into the stony earth. To rip and to claw, to feel the primal satisfaction of ripping into and through something -- the earth. The pull of ones weight, the vertical scramble up the side of the pit. Erin would hear it, the scraping of earth that crumbled in his hand; that he ripped through with the ease of a predator. Urgency demanded it, she released the stone onto his head with concussive force. It would have knocked down anyone less Howard White and perhaps Quinn Healy. Who would have thought a snake's most relevant adversaries would be a couple of powder puffs.
The world might have swam, but it did nothing to slow him. He barreled out of the pit like some sort of wild beast. Clots of earth rained behind him as he lurched forward from the hole and Erin took a staggering step back. Her eyes scanned the ground, her unyielding tree dubbed 'safety' in her mind would grant her no advantage and fail to live up to its name. His hair matted, a mixture of dirt and blood that sluggishly trickled from a fresh wound on his scalp. It was strange how quickly one can become unrecognizable as their expression contorts into a terrible expression.
"...oh shit," she muttered. Fight or flight, an easy choice indeed. Howard did not look like some boy. A rival. He looked like some sort of monster. He looked as he truly was and it was monstrous. She would try to run. She was fast. She was strong. She processed the endurance necessary to outrun him. Fangs breeched his gums and Erin looked away.
She always looked to where she was running. Her options were simple but few. this was her only pit, it had taken her days to dig. She could run for the woods or the Whomping Willow, let the environment overwhelm her pursuant. Alternatively, she could rush the castle. There were complicit, forgetful, passive witnesses there. She would be letting them in, whatever this creature was as doubt started to sink in -- what if this thing actually was Howard? A fleeting, fearful moment of regret as well as reticence. Hesitation made her easy prey, not that she would have outran him. In truth, Howard was the closest thing there was in this school to a physical peer that she knew of.
Erin would still try, too stubborn to let logic rule her life. She was get a few steps as she chose to run in the opposite direction of the castle. To pull the opportunist away from the school. Likely her last heroic intention. She would feel something hit her in the side. It felt like being hit by a rampaging bull or the equivalent to a small (probably electric) muggle vehicle. The ground would seemingly be ripped out from under her and she would extend her hands to catch herself as she fell. Her palms would hit the ground, the stony floor abrading her hands.
Flight was out of the question, all that as left was fight.
She would grab a handful of stone and sand or rocky earth. Whatever her fingers could grip, 'fair play' was for losers and for those that made the rules to determine what was allegedly 'fair.' She would fling the bits of grass and dirt her hand had robbed from the earth "nyeh!"
Blinded or not, most certainly enraged. Claws would wrap around her neck and slam her back against the ground. A moment of panic would wash over her as she felt his weight and his grip would tighten. She could feel her airway collapse. She could not say anything, otherwise she would have said something defiant. Told him that he would get no further. That... well, a secret she would not have to share after all. Not that she gave up. Her hands were still free, not that she had a creatures claws her he would feel her pitiful nails attempt to dig into his back.
She had few options.
1. Attempt to roll, remove his leverage.
- Risk: they might roll into the pit.
- Risk" she might not be able to overpower him. Time was limited before she lost consciousness.
That was the sickest part. That panic was a feeling and it was hers. It was exhilarating. It was something she had always lacked and... No, she was most certainly a crazy person. She would get herself killed or worse. It needed to be Plan #1. Yes, try to roll. Use her leverage, or rather his lack of balance as he tried to crush her windpipe to topple him over.
Usual Erin being way too weird.
Actual move(s): "Pocket sand" and futile clawing. Feel free to elaborate and be weird. I know neither of them are right. Intended next action would be to try to roll.
Just a trick of the lighting they said...
20 May 2021, 03:50
Pusillanimous Posture
Erin's moment of hesitation was all Howard needed to make his move. Like two dump trucks colliding on a highway he would bowl into her side, the wreckage spewing across the ground as their bodies fell. She would spin as the momentum carried them downward, her hands bracing for the fall. Howard would scramble after her, his rage and the urge for self preservation guiding him as he sought to gain the advantage. The wild Slytherin was not a foe to underestimate as he had seen her brute strength many times before. If only he could get her pinned the fight would most likely go his way. There was no more time for discussion or trying to convince her of the truth. His predatory nature had taken the drivers seat and it screamed for blood. Kill or be killed.
"GAH!" The dirt she flung would hit his eyes as she rolled over on her back. It took all of his focus to not instinctively try and wipe them clean. Instead he would allow his other senses to guide him towards domination (blind vision). Long, clawed fingers would quickly find her neck and with a shift of his weight Howard would slam Erin's against the hard earth. He would swing his legs over her body to pin her and let his strength flow through straightened arms as he began to choke her.
Several options would run through Erin's head. Most would feel nothing but fear or anger, but there would be a small part of her that enjoyed the rush of adrenaline. The panic offered her something she had so little of in her cursed life, a feeling. In that moment she would not be the only one overcome by a sense of satisfaction. As Howard began to squeeze he would feel something that he had repressed for a while now. The past year had been filled with the "typical" teenaged experiences most would expect of one his age. He dated, he attended school functions, he played sports. Howard once again tried to deny what he was in the pursuit of a normal life. It wasn't exactly the lie he had told before when he first came to Hogwarts, but it was a lie nonetheless. The truth was that in this moment he felt more alive than he had all year.
His face would get closer to hers as he leaned forward to put his body weight behind his chokehold. His lips would part in a grimace as he exerted his strength. Fangs would drip with saliva as crimson eyes lit up with the wild excitement of a predator on the hunt. Erin's heart rate would quicken as panic flowed through her body. Howard could feel it pounding under his palms. The rhythmic beating that called out to his darkest desire. Howard had gained the control to push it away, but it was often maddening to live amongst so many beating hearts. To constantly have to repress the urge that was only natural to one like himself. Here and now he could just let that all slip away. Not only the predatory urge to feed, but also the farce that he did not enjoy the sense of power it gave him.
It was this very need that had driven him towards Erin, the very reason he had followed her into the bowels of the castle to meet the crones. They surely had taken advantage of both of them, but it did little to change his need for power. It had first come to him when he cast magic. The euphoria that followed when he felt it coursing through his body was intoxicating. For the first time in his life he felt like he had some control. His turn to Dhampirism had lessened his connection to the magic that flowed through his veins, but in its place came brute strength and the heightened senses of a dangerous predator. That same joy that had been lost to him was now returned as he attempted to squeeze the life from Erin.
His face was even closer now. The thumping of her heart echoed in his ears as his mouth watered. Her fingers would dig into his back as she clawed for her life, but it would take much more than that to break him from his blood craze. Howard could wait until she fell unconscious, but where's the fun in that? In one swift moment he would release his hold on her throat as his lips parted wide, but as he went to plunge his world would turn upside down. In that short moment Erin would use her strength to roll and he would not be quick enough to counter, but as they rolled they would quickly run out of ground. For the second time that night Howard would fall into the hand dug pit, this time with Erin in tow. His back would slam against the rocky ground, but he would scramble to regain his footing. The blow gave him pause as he attempted to regain the breath knocked out of him.
"Believe me now?" Howard asked between ragged breaths.
"GAH!" The dirt she flung would hit his eyes as she rolled over on her back. It took all of his focus to not instinctively try and wipe them clean. Instead he would allow his other senses to guide him towards domination (blind vision). Long, clawed fingers would quickly find her neck and with a shift of his weight Howard would slam Erin's against the hard earth. He would swing his legs over her body to pin her and let his strength flow through straightened arms as he began to choke her.
Several options would run through Erin's head. Most would feel nothing but fear or anger, but there would be a small part of her that enjoyed the rush of adrenaline. The panic offered her something she had so little of in her cursed life, a feeling. In that moment she would not be the only one overcome by a sense of satisfaction. As Howard began to squeeze he would feel something that he had repressed for a while now. The past year had been filled with the "typical" teenaged experiences most would expect of one his age. He dated, he attended school functions, he played sports. Howard once again tried to deny what he was in the pursuit of a normal life. It wasn't exactly the lie he had told before when he first came to Hogwarts, but it was a lie nonetheless. The truth was that in this moment he felt more alive than he had all year.
His face would get closer to hers as he leaned forward to put his body weight behind his chokehold. His lips would part in a grimace as he exerted his strength. Fangs would drip with saliva as crimson eyes lit up with the wild excitement of a predator on the hunt. Erin's heart rate would quicken as panic flowed through her body. Howard could feel it pounding under his palms. The rhythmic beating that called out to his darkest desire. Howard had gained the control to push it away, but it was often maddening to live amongst so many beating hearts. To constantly have to repress the urge that was only natural to one like himself. Here and now he could just let that all slip away. Not only the predatory urge to feed, but also the farce that he did not enjoy the sense of power it gave him.
It was this very need that had driven him towards Erin, the very reason he had followed her into the bowels of the castle to meet the crones. They surely had taken advantage of both of them, but it did little to change his need for power. It had first come to him when he cast magic. The euphoria that followed when he felt it coursing through his body was intoxicating. For the first time in his life he felt like he had some control. His turn to Dhampirism had lessened his connection to the magic that flowed through his veins, but in its place came brute strength and the heightened senses of a dangerous predator. That same joy that had been lost to him was now returned as he attempted to squeeze the life from Erin.
His face was even closer now. The thumping of her heart echoed in his ears as his mouth watered. Her fingers would dig into his back as she clawed for her life, but it would take much more than that to break him from his blood craze. Howard could wait until she fell unconscious, but where's the fun in that? In one swift moment he would release his hold on her throat as his lips parted wide, but as he went to plunge his world would turn upside down. In that short moment Erin would use her strength to roll and he would not be quick enough to counter, but as they rolled they would quickly run out of ground. For the second time that night Howard would fall into the hand dug pit, this time with Erin in tow. His back would slam against the rocky ground, but he would scramble to regain his footing. The blow gave him pause as he attempted to regain the breath knocked out of him.
"Believe me now?" Howard asked between ragged breaths.
No further action for now.