15 Jul 2020, 02:23
That One Fateful Night
Unlike you. Another biting remark from Thomas. Begging her to enter into a melee with him. He would not leave the dungeons alive if she satisfied her impulse. "Whatever you need to tell yourself sweetie," she scoffed. She was not above prodding back, mild sarcasm. The infantization of his name, the use of sweetie or hun words he wanted to hear from a paramour and even then probably not. Condescending. Bereft of an identity, just a value that is less than a name. How hard would it be to set him off? Save his damn useless life?
Prod him about his precious Aunt Petunia.
Howard wanted answers when he had more than her, he just did not realize. The one thing that she knew that he did not, that there was more than one coven was by far more relevant than his bid for power, vengeance or whatever madness drove him. He repeated one key portion of her abbreviated explanation, pick the wrong side and her toes curled. She was not one to back down, rather prepare herself with the coming lashing as he face contorted in anger. She could feel his anger, it came off of him like heat. It was something she craved, but it was like being offered bliss in midst of a fray. Fall victim to her own gluttony and suffer the dire consequences. She took in a sharp breath and gave him a cold look, "stop Howie." The name did not fit him at all, he had forgone the childish boy next door facade when she ripped away the pretty packaging. Not that this monster was her creation, this was always there. He just stopped hiding it. He stopped lying.
Thomas offered to show him where the crones rested their heads. "Tom..." her voice trailed off, she was warning him but she knew well enough he would not listen. He was a petulant child in the body of a teen. Too much power for one so dumb. "Don't." Of course he ambled into the darkness calling out for Aunie. Howard would crush his hag stone in his hand and the rough stone would turn to dust.
"Why?" Erin complained as she watched the dust fall from his hand. "Why do you both want to die so badly!" She snapped.
Hag stones are cursed items. "Your Auntie is not there, nor is ours," Erin protested as she attempted to grab Howard by the arm. Yes, she was going to attempt to physically restrain the madman. Yes, she was aware that he would lash out at her. But, she was not afraid. "You go down there and you find them, you're a dead man!" She persisted, if he pulled away or shrugged her off as she assumed he might she would trail behind them. If she was injured, she would just let it bleed. Let the dhampir suffer the sweet scent and he went on this folly of a quest.
The dungeons were not lit and it would be in the darkness that the walls would start to creep. Unseen, the darkness would skitter. The darkness would crawl and writhe, the forms of vermin but others shapeless abortions, abominations that strayed from the light. The darkness did not care for her when she was an invited guest, but she was invited no more. Neither was Thomas or Howard.
The walls where not all that moved, the floor also. It felt organic like they were walking into the jaws of a predator. "Thomas..." He knew better. He KNEW! Her pace slowed, she looked back behind them, the corridor would shift, where there was once a clear passageway there was now a wall. A means to confuse travelers. A means to leave them wandering until they got too tired. "They know we are here, their will keeps them" the darkness "at bay."
"This way my dearie--"
An unseen voice called out, beckoning them forward. If Thomas continued to lead the way, he would soon regret his choice. His feet would be glued to the floor. An attempt to lift his feet unsuccessful, not because his feet became heavy but rather the sole of his shoes sticky.
"Turn around," Erin begged on last time. It was too late.
Presuming Howard moved onward he would not need to travel far, the crone would come to them. An old woman, small in stature. She stood under five feet. Her long, snarled hair was left down. It framed a misshapen face and sunken in eyes that sat alongside a great hooked nose. The hairline was receding, much like an older man without the embarrassing failure of a comb-over. Her thin, chapped lips would peel back to reveal a set of jagged, sharp, greening teeth.
Her shoulders slumped as the crone addressed Thomas. She was not nearly as 'playful' as the crone that met him in the lake. No, Thomas invaded their domicile. "Aunt Petunia?" The crones talon-like tails could have serves as daggers as they played in front of Thoma's throat. One little flinch. One moment of clumsiness and the boy might have a severed jugular. How she enjoyed the color red.
"Heistheonethatknows," Erin announced in one word but her voice wavered. He is the one that knows. It was senseless hiding it from them, they would have heard it in Howard's stone. He was more useful alive than dead. "He is theirs." she quickly added before they did anything rash. Hopefully before one of the two of them did something stupid that she would outlive them to regret. "And he is over-emotional as always," she was referring to Howard.
"Oh moppet..." She was speaking to Thomas. "You came all this way," her eyes flickered towards Erin with a killer's intent "just to show me the way?"
Prod him about his precious Aunt Petunia.
Howard wanted answers when he had more than her, he just did not realize. The one thing that she knew that he did not, that there was more than one coven was by far more relevant than his bid for power, vengeance or whatever madness drove him. He repeated one key portion of her abbreviated explanation, pick the wrong side and her toes curled. She was not one to back down, rather prepare herself with the coming lashing as he face contorted in anger. She could feel his anger, it came off of him like heat. It was something she craved, but it was like being offered bliss in midst of a fray. Fall victim to her own gluttony and suffer the dire consequences. She took in a sharp breath and gave him a cold look, "stop Howie." The name did not fit him at all, he had forgone the childish boy next door facade when she ripped away the pretty packaging. Not that this monster was her creation, this was always there. He just stopped hiding it. He stopped lying.
Thomas offered to show him where the crones rested their heads. "Tom..." her voice trailed off, she was warning him but she knew well enough he would not listen. He was a petulant child in the body of a teen. Too much power for one so dumb. "Don't." Of course he ambled into the darkness calling out for Aunie. Howard would crush his hag stone in his hand and the rough stone would turn to dust.
"Why?" Erin complained as she watched the dust fall from his hand. "Why do you both want to die so badly!" She snapped.
Never steal another person's hag stone, or something of yours you will no longer own.
Never let your hag stone be intentionally destroyed, something of yours will be void.
Cannot be bought, or sought. But one can allot.
If you find a pair, do not share. Take your share.
Do not go looking for one. You do not want one.
Never loose your hag stone, you will loose something or someone.
Hag stones are cursed items. "Your Auntie is not there, nor is ours," Erin protested as she attempted to grab Howard by the arm. Yes, she was going to attempt to physically restrain the madman. Yes, she was aware that he would lash out at her. But, she was not afraid. "You go down there and you find them, you're a dead man!" She persisted, if he pulled away or shrugged her off as she assumed he might she would trail behind them. If she was injured, she would just let it bleed. Let the dhampir suffer the sweet scent and he went on this folly of a quest.
The dungeons were not lit and it would be in the darkness that the walls would start to creep. Unseen, the darkness would skitter. The darkness would crawl and writhe, the forms of vermin but others shapeless abortions, abominations that strayed from the light. The darkness did not care for her when she was an invited guest, but she was invited no more. Neither was Thomas or Howard.
The walls where not all that moved, the floor also. It felt organic like they were walking into the jaws of a predator. "Thomas..." He knew better. He KNEW! Her pace slowed, she looked back behind them, the corridor would shift, where there was once a clear passageway there was now a wall. A means to confuse travelers. A means to leave them wandering until they got too tired. "They know we are here, their will keeps them" the darkness "at bay."
"This way my dearie--"
An unseen voice called out, beckoning them forward. If Thomas continued to lead the way, he would soon regret his choice. His feet would be glued to the floor. An attempt to lift his feet unsuccessful, not because his feet became heavy but rather the sole of his shoes sticky.
"Turn around," Erin begged on last time. It was too late.
Presuming Howard moved onward he would not need to travel far, the crone would come to them. An old woman, small in stature. She stood under five feet. Her long, snarled hair was left down. It framed a misshapen face and sunken in eyes that sat alongside a great hooked nose. The hairline was receding, much like an older man without the embarrassing failure of a comb-over. Her thin, chapped lips would peel back to reveal a set of jagged, sharp, greening teeth.
Her shoulders slumped as the crone addressed Thomas. She was not nearly as 'playful' as the crone that met him in the lake. No, Thomas invaded their domicile. "Aunt Petunia?" The crones talon-like tails could have serves as daggers as they played in front of Thoma's throat. One little flinch. One moment of clumsiness and the boy might have a severed jugular. How she enjoyed the color red.
"Heistheonethatknows," Erin announced in one word but her voice wavered. He is the one that knows. It was senseless hiding it from them, they would have heard it in Howard's stone. He was more useful alive than dead. "He is theirs." she quickly added before they did anything rash. Hopefully before one of the two of them did something stupid that she would outlive them to regret. "And he is over-emotional as always," she was referring to Howard.
"Oh moppet..." She was speaking to Thomas. "You came all this way," her eyes flickered towards Erin with a killer's intent "just to show me the way?"
Just a trick of the lighting they said...
20 Jul 2020, 03:34
That One Fateful Night
Erin’s voice muffled behind the castle’s stone surfaces. Separate sets of feet patter near the end of a passageway where the floor seemingly declined in elevation. The downhill slant of the passageway could merely be a figment of Thomas’ imagination, each step bringing him nearer to the recesses of hag territory. His control lessened with each step, drawn to each screech like a moth to flame. For what cost? To succumb to Howard’s will, proving himself to the boy? Surely not, Thomas did not adhere to the desires of others. A fair few have gained his loyalty, but when it came to his relationship with auntie, a singular aspiration drove the boy. It was no longer about his mother, his father, or friends. Only himself.
The veela was muted underneath the boys’ foolish quest. A taste of power can go a long way, recalibrating the mind’s queue. Erin’s fading voice of caution fell far below the prospect of achieving Auntie’s approval. Thomas only heard the screeches, he could not make out her words. If he had, perhaps the boy would have stopped. For a moment, she dropped the revolted act that was a fixture of any encounter between Thomas and Erin. She divulged a glimpse of what once was. Just a slight, defeated twitch of solicitous feelings the two shared. Feelings that Thomas laid upon the curb to repeatedly stomp until they were gone.
Thomas did not have ears for Erin, only the screeches of a supposed old friend who had delivered what he sought. A taste of truth he would cling to as long as it remains untampered. Thomas did not have ears for Howard either, had the boy elected to turn back, or speak out in opposition to their approach. He would continue on with or without them. The adrenaline this reunion provided would help the boy overlook the quintessence of nightmares. The dimly lit passage began to reveal a collection of abhorrent crawlers that coexist along what once was a stony surface. Momentarily illuminated by the waning lighting before they realigned in the darkness. A sign they were no longer of a world their minds could realistically define.
Thomas' hands remained attached to his sides as if glued, hesitant to make contact with any part of their new surroundings. Experiences with auntie led him to believe the consistency of a hag’s dark magic that reaches the eye does not always align with reality. Still, he would not test this theory. Heart rate steadily rose as he neared the voice that called. Thomas’ head was fixed forward towards the path in front of him, tuning out the matter along the walls that left his skin crawling with these cognitive distortions, his brain would simulate these forces traveling along every exposed part of skin.
The crone emerged from the darkness, presenting a different set of features that came to define Petunia. The boy’s quickened breath halted, as if all oxygen available left his vicinity. Never has he seen the crone he was bound to take on a different form. This one much lower to the ground, of lesser stature and a sinister grin. Thomas could not rule out the possibility Petunia had assumed a new form since they last met. He would lower his frame to perform a ceremonial kneel of greeting, his way of establishing his service to the creature’s wishes. Yet his feet would not move, as if swallowed into the pit below. Thomas wiggled his fingers to ensure he was not a complete loss of control. Leading him to identify the hag controlled his surroundings, but not him directly.
Thomas pressed his lips as she neared close, letting the sharpened talons twirl around his visage, and rest near his throat. A grimace formed as he tilted his head slightly away from the creature. Ripples sent across his brown hair with her breaths, his head wearily wobbling. It was not difficult to deduce the crone was not the one of loyalty, clearly not part of Auntie’s coven. Confirming the warnings Erin provided. You should have listened, you fool.
The confirmation she was not auntie magnified his growing fear. A heavy release of air through his nostrils initiated a wave of steady breaths sending his rhythmic thumps from his chest. It was not his first rodeo, however, leading the boy to close his eyes and collect himself, before staring into that horrible grin across him. “What of her?”
"Heistheonethatknows. He is theirs."
Erin offered her best shot to halt the growing resentment that Thomas had for himself regarding the way he has treated her. Blue eyes narrowing, his left hand clenched in burgeoning fury. An emotion that would blind his consideration that offering truth was the only thing left to save him. But Thomas could not readily define this hag’s connection to Petunia, he would allow her to make the first move before deciding his approach. A first move that was easy to anticipate, as Erin relinquished his only bargaining chip for him.
The boy was forced to shed the many curses for Erin off the tip of his tongue. His options were slim, there was no use lying. She would see through him, and likely slice through him at the first sign of deception. So he would make a proposition. Thomas would conceal the remnants of his hand as best he could, to retain Auntie’s loyalty had a war begun. What was it that he had to conceal? Auntie may have been busy since their last meeting, surely she anticipated a reaction to letting him wander back to the castle. Additionally, the arrival of a Groundskeeper may have altered her location further into the forest. “They will be ready for you…” Uncertain if their approach would be anticipated by Petunia, but it was not a lie.
The veela was muted underneath the boys’ foolish quest. A taste of power can go a long way, recalibrating the mind’s queue. Erin’s fading voice of caution fell far below the prospect of achieving Auntie’s approval. Thomas only heard the screeches, he could not make out her words. If he had, perhaps the boy would have stopped. For a moment, she dropped the revolted act that was a fixture of any encounter between Thomas and Erin. She divulged a glimpse of what once was. Just a slight, defeated twitch of solicitous feelings the two shared. Feelings that Thomas laid upon the curb to repeatedly stomp until they were gone.
Thomas did not have ears for Erin, only the screeches of a supposed old friend who had delivered what he sought. A taste of truth he would cling to as long as it remains untampered. Thomas did not have ears for Howard either, had the boy elected to turn back, or speak out in opposition to their approach. He would continue on with or without them. The adrenaline this reunion provided would help the boy overlook the quintessence of nightmares. The dimly lit passage began to reveal a collection of abhorrent crawlers that coexist along what once was a stony surface. Momentarily illuminated by the waning lighting before they realigned in the darkness. A sign they were no longer of a world their minds could realistically define.
"This way my dearie--"
Thomas' hands remained attached to his sides as if glued, hesitant to make contact with any part of their new surroundings. Experiences with auntie led him to believe the consistency of a hag’s dark magic that reaches the eye does not always align with reality. Still, he would not test this theory. Heart rate steadily rose as he neared the voice that called. Thomas’ head was fixed forward towards the path in front of him, tuning out the matter along the walls that left his skin crawling with these cognitive distortions, his brain would simulate these forces traveling along every exposed part of skin.
The crone emerged from the darkness, presenting a different set of features that came to define Petunia. The boy’s quickened breath halted, as if all oxygen available left his vicinity. Never has he seen the crone he was bound to take on a different form. This one much lower to the ground, of lesser stature and a sinister grin. Thomas could not rule out the possibility Petunia had assumed a new form since they last met. He would lower his frame to perform a ceremonial kneel of greeting, his way of establishing his service to the creature’s wishes. Yet his feet would not move, as if swallowed into the pit below. Thomas wiggled his fingers to ensure he was not a complete loss of control. Leading him to identify the hag controlled his surroundings, but not him directly.
Thomas pressed his lips as she neared close, letting the sharpened talons twirl around his visage, and rest near his throat. A grimace formed as he tilted his head slightly away from the creature. Ripples sent across his brown hair with her breaths, his head wearily wobbling. It was not difficult to deduce the crone was not the one of loyalty, clearly not part of Auntie’s coven. Confirming the warnings Erin provided. You should have listened, you fool.
"Aunt Petunia?"
The confirmation she was not auntie magnified his growing fear. A heavy release of air through his nostrils initiated a wave of steady breaths sending his rhythmic thumps from his chest. It was not his first rodeo, however, leading the boy to close his eyes and collect himself, before staring into that horrible grin across him. “What of her?”
"Heistheonethatknows. He is theirs."
Erin offered her best shot to halt the growing resentment that Thomas had for himself regarding the way he has treated her. Blue eyes narrowing, his left hand clenched in burgeoning fury. An emotion that would blind his consideration that offering truth was the only thing left to save him. But Thomas could not readily define this hag’s connection to Petunia, he would allow her to make the first move before deciding his approach. A first move that was easy to anticipate, as Erin relinquished his only bargaining chip for him.
"Oh moppet...You came all this way, just to show me the way?"
The boy was forced to shed the many curses for Erin off the tip of his tongue. His options were slim, there was no use lying. She would see through him, and likely slice through him at the first sign of deception. So he would make a proposition. Thomas would conceal the remnants of his hand as best he could, to retain Auntie’s loyalty had a war begun. What was it that he had to conceal? Auntie may have been busy since their last meeting, surely she anticipated a reaction to letting him wander back to the castle. Additionally, the arrival of a Groundskeeper may have altered her location further into the forest. “They will be ready for you…” Uncertain if their approach would be anticipated by Petunia, but it was not a lie.
@Howard White @Erin Ryan
We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful what we pretend to be
Stamina: 8 | Evasion: 7 | Strength: 7 | Wisdom: 8 | ArcPower: 3 | Accuracy: 7
Ability - Evasive Maneuvers 2x
23 Jul 2020, 03:48
That One Fateful Night
@Thomas Lestrange @Erin Ryan
The anger rolled off of Howard in waves, pulsing out of his body with every beat of heart. It seeped through the pores of his flesh like a noxious gas, filling the space around him. A defense mechanism of his kind that he struggled to control when his emotions soared. Had the girl next to him been any other than Erin Ryan, they would have been unsettled by it. A sense that everything was wrong as anxiety racked through their bodies. Although Erin was not capable of feeling it, she could feed from it. In any other circumstance they would succumb to their sick desires, a release for him and a feast for her, but not today.
Erin would beg him to stop, to reconsider his suicidal quest, but how could he? “I don’t want to die, Erin.” Howard had stopped with her touch, his head turned to look back at her over his shoulder, the rims of his eye stained red as the emotion tore through him. “I want to live!” His voice was rising, thick with rage. It was not some inspirational declaration, but a cry of anger against the world. Why must he always be forced to conform to the wants of others? Raised a Muggle, he was no good in that world as magic flowed through his blood. He must be sent away and trained to be a good little wizard. To bend to the customs and culture that were not his own, only to be ridiculed by some for what kind of woman gave birth to him. A transformation, a new nature. Daily feedings forced upon him to quell what nature had made him, another constraint to a boy that yearned for the freedom to live life as he saw fit.
Howard would turn and attempt to pull his arm from Erin’s grasp, but whether she held or not wouldn’t matter. The boy would stop as his eyes stared down the darkened passageway. It looked like some sort of nightmarish mirage at first as the shadows twisted and turned. His heart would begin to hammer as the darkness took shape before them, creeping and crawling its way towards them with murderous intent. The crone would step forward to make her presence known. Howard’s breathing cane quick, his body trembling ever so slightly beneath his robes. This was not the Hag he had dealt with and she brought an army with her. “Thomas...don’t.”
No words would reach the younger boy as the crone came to stand before him. Erin would do her best to identify them as Thomas made his stand. Howard took a few deep breaths to calm his nerves and focus his mind. The crone had not immediately killed them, perhaps there was still a way out. “What do you want?” His question was firm, but he did not threat. There was not point in making demands or pleading with such vile creatures. If they were to live, a price surely must be paid.
The anger rolled off of Howard in waves, pulsing out of his body with every beat of heart. It seeped through the pores of his flesh like a noxious gas, filling the space around him. A defense mechanism of his kind that he struggled to control when his emotions soared. Had the girl next to him been any other than Erin Ryan, they would have been unsettled by it. A sense that everything was wrong as anxiety racked through their bodies. Although Erin was not capable of feeling it, she could feed from it. In any other circumstance they would succumb to their sick desires, a release for him and a feast for her, but not today.
Erin would beg him to stop, to reconsider his suicidal quest, but how could he? “I don’t want to die, Erin.” Howard had stopped with her touch, his head turned to look back at her over his shoulder, the rims of his eye stained red as the emotion tore through him. “I want to live!” His voice was rising, thick with rage. It was not some inspirational declaration, but a cry of anger against the world. Why must he always be forced to conform to the wants of others? Raised a Muggle, he was no good in that world as magic flowed through his blood. He must be sent away and trained to be a good little wizard. To bend to the customs and culture that were not his own, only to be ridiculed by some for what kind of woman gave birth to him. A transformation, a new nature. Daily feedings forced upon him to quell what nature had made him, another constraint to a boy that yearned for the freedom to live life as he saw fit.
Howard would turn and attempt to pull his arm from Erin’s grasp, but whether she held or not wouldn’t matter. The boy would stop as his eyes stared down the darkened passageway. It looked like some sort of nightmarish mirage at first as the shadows twisted and turned. His heart would begin to hammer as the darkness took shape before them, creeping and crawling its way towards them with murderous intent. The crone would step forward to make her presence known. Howard’s breathing cane quick, his body trembling ever so slightly beneath his robes. This was not the Hag he had dealt with and she brought an army with her. “Thomas...don’t.”
No words would reach the younger boy as the crone came to stand before him. Erin would do her best to identify them as Thomas made his stand. Howard took a few deep breaths to calm his nerves and focus his mind. The crone had not immediately killed them, perhaps there was still a way out. “What do you want?” His question was firm, but he did not threat. There was not point in making demands or pleading with such vile creatures. If they were to live, a price surely must be paid.
24 Jul 2020, 21:48
That One Fateful Night
Hags are creatures of loathing, shaped by the very darkness they fester in. Their vile nature manifests itself around them in a tangible manner. The scent of sulfur and ash would fill the air, the darkness would become lively. The walls would groan and vermin would proliferate. Erin's breaths would grow shallow, as if she was hiding the fact that she was even breathing. As if it would overlook her if she was quiet enough.
"Grandmother..." her voice trailed off and even her blood ran cold as it drained from her face. She felt numb, her teeth bit at her lower lip to elicit a sense of pain, to awaken her senses. She felt pressure and she tasted blood, the pinch did not pull her from this nightmarish state where she felt like an observer, a distant third party watching the scene unfold. "T-they sometimes change," she stammered in explanation. "I-I..." her mind was moving faster than her mouth, it was hard to get the words out. The imperative was survival, an ends that was increasingly improbable after Howard crushed the hagstone and Thomas was... well, Thomas.
Her heart would not pound like Howard's did. She was unaware of the terrible nature that emanated off of the Hufflepuff even, but she knew Howard was dangerous just like she knew that the hag was even more so. She was not the sort to genuflect, to demonstrate her fealty because there was none. She worked for them, she did not love them. She was not capable of the notion nor had she tried to pretend she was.
Like a curious bird, the hag would tilt their head to the side just a bit too far. Nothing about this fiend was natural. Her straw-like hair would sway. "Petulance and pride run deep," she would smile. The corners of her chapped lips would peel back to reveal a row of jagged, dagger-sharp teeth. "I see nothing redeeming. No spark. No light. But a sea of red," her fingers would crack and pop as they danced in front of her. Her talon-like nails would attempt to caress the tender, soft flesh of Thomas' throat.
“They will be ready for you…”
A warning? No, a threat. "Will they now?" The creature before Thomas dripped with both malice and power, something both of the young men coveted. "It is a shame that you will not live to see it," the putrid creature croaked.
"Heknowswhere!"
Erin shouted, her eyes closed however for good measure. "He. Knows. Where." She repeated, taking a breath in between. It was not enough to save Thomas from the crone's wrath as her claws swiped across Thomas.
But Thomas' life was spared, she did not aim for the throat. The jagged cuts in his flesh, sliced deep into muscle, not that the barely teen was likely known for his pectorals. Contaminated, those wounds would ultimately fester. This was not a wound magic would seamlessly heal. Thomas had only just begun to know the meaning of suffering. Erin did not run away, she ran forward. The cry was not one of fear, but one of potential loss. "Fucking Merlin!" No, this was not one of those scenes where she admits that they were friends, they were not friends. Thomas had made certain of that. Nor was this one of those scenes where she claimed affection of any kind, Oliver was the guardian of her heart. Whatever affection she might harbor for either of them was muted. Erin was a lot of things, but a killer was not among them. She did not want to see Thomas, or anyone for that matter die. Erin removed her jacket, there was a camisole beneath. Wadded into a ball she attempted to bring the jacket to Thomas' throat only to realize that Grandmother had not dealt mortal blow.
Howard would see something unusual from his vantage point. Something he had seen before but had either forgotten or failed to understand the relevance. The meaning might still escape him. Erin's back and shoulders were deeply marred with scars. The thin, tight, discolored skin undulated this time unnaturally. "He knows," she insisted. Let him show the way.
Grandmother let out a laugh, as if someone had dropped the punchline on a real side-splitter. Thomas would continue to bleed. The scent of blood would fill the air and taunt another creature of the night, Howard White. Howard was once human, however his nature which was never quite pure was perverted and twisted into something even darker and more dangerous. The want to feed a basic basic urge, a driving force as powerful as want.
“What do you want?”
A query that Howard would ask in spite of the blood. The hag had a cruel advantage, the want to hurt and to twist and a basic understanding of the trio. Of Howard's rage and his affliction. Of Thomas' impetuous nature. How he drives everyone away and yet is never alone. Of Erin, someone who by her own admission could not feel love or fear, yet accompanied this duo of ne'er do wells to potentially their collective doom. What Erin failed to realize is, you don't have to feel it for it to be there. Like the very air around them, sometimes harsh and cutting, other times oppressive and yet still many many other times it is not even a consideration.
"Howard White," the crone announced. She knew his full name. She knew more than his name, she knew his life. His dealings. His missteps, promises and betrayals. She knew his dreams because she was there, looking in. "The tyrant-victim," she dubbed him. She wanted but one thing and this was far from the moment of ecstasy she sought, but she wanted Howard for a reason. "I want to see not what you are, but what you could be," she responded. "And hope that you are not another" she eyed Erin "blathering failure." Erin was once a force of chaos, but somehow despite all she lacked she had gotten sentimental, weak.
Erin did not respond, she did not care.
"So I assign you," not Thomas or Erin. "To find the other coven and take from them an ounce of their living darkness." Not to defeat them. Not to tell them where they were. Grandmother simply did not care, she just wanted the nightmare fuel. "Or--" There was always an or. A test. An opportunity to undermine and to destroy. "An ounce of blood," undrunk obviously "from..." yellowed eyes flickered. "Someone who find sweet," that terrible smile never left her face, but something wiggling reared its head between her teeth. "I will know the difference."
"Grandmother..." her voice trailed off and even her blood ran cold as it drained from her face. She felt numb, her teeth bit at her lower lip to elicit a sense of pain, to awaken her senses. She felt pressure and she tasted blood, the pinch did not pull her from this nightmarish state where she felt like an observer, a distant third party watching the scene unfold. "T-they sometimes change," she stammered in explanation. "I-I..." her mind was moving faster than her mouth, it was hard to get the words out. The imperative was survival, an ends that was increasingly improbable after Howard crushed the hagstone and Thomas was... well, Thomas.
Her heart would not pound like Howard's did. She was unaware of the terrible nature that emanated off of the Hufflepuff even, but she knew Howard was dangerous just like she knew that the hag was even more so. She was not the sort to genuflect, to demonstrate her fealty because there was none. She worked for them, she did not love them. She was not capable of the notion nor had she tried to pretend she was.
Like a curious bird, the hag would tilt their head to the side just a bit too far. Nothing about this fiend was natural. Her straw-like hair would sway. "Petulance and pride run deep," she would smile. The corners of her chapped lips would peel back to reveal a row of jagged, dagger-sharp teeth. "I see nothing redeeming. No spark. No light. But a sea of red," her fingers would crack and pop as they danced in front of her. Her talon-like nails would attempt to caress the tender, soft flesh of Thomas' throat.
“They will be ready for you…”
A warning? No, a threat. "Will they now?" The creature before Thomas dripped with both malice and power, something both of the young men coveted. "It is a shame that you will not live to see it," the putrid creature croaked.
"Heknowswhere!"
Erin shouted, her eyes closed however for good measure. "He. Knows. Where." She repeated, taking a breath in between. It was not enough to save Thomas from the crone's wrath as her claws swiped across Thomas.
Perhaps Thomas stubbornly stood there, expecting and ultimately suffering the blow head on. Perhaps he tried to duck away, the boy arrogant and angry but not foolish or masochistic. Regardless of his efforts or lack thereof, her nails would rake through the front of his shirt and deeply into his chest. Erin would only see the effortless swipe and the flash of red and she would scream. Not that she realized that she screamed, no that she was screaming.Attack: 9
Evasion: 10
But Thomas' life was spared, she did not aim for the throat. The jagged cuts in his flesh, sliced deep into muscle, not that the barely teen was likely known for his pectorals. Contaminated, those wounds would ultimately fester. This was not a wound magic would seamlessly heal. Thomas had only just begun to know the meaning of suffering. Erin did not run away, she ran forward. The cry was not one of fear, but one of potential loss. "Fucking Merlin!" No, this was not one of those scenes where she admits that they were friends, they were not friends. Thomas had made certain of that. Nor was this one of those scenes where she claimed affection of any kind, Oliver was the guardian of her heart. Whatever affection she might harbor for either of them was muted. Erin was a lot of things, but a killer was not among them. She did not want to see Thomas, or anyone for that matter die. Erin removed her jacket, there was a camisole beneath. Wadded into a ball she attempted to bring the jacket to Thomas' throat only to realize that Grandmother had not dealt mortal blow.
Howard would see something unusual from his vantage point. Something he had seen before but had either forgotten or failed to understand the relevance. The meaning might still escape him. Erin's back and shoulders were deeply marred with scars. The thin, tight, discolored skin undulated this time unnaturally. "He knows," she insisted. Let him show the way.
Grandmother let out a laugh, as if someone had dropped the punchline on a real side-splitter. Thomas would continue to bleed. The scent of blood would fill the air and taunt another creature of the night, Howard White. Howard was once human, however his nature which was never quite pure was perverted and twisted into something even darker and more dangerous. The want to feed a basic basic urge, a driving force as powerful as want.
“What do you want?”
A query that Howard would ask in spite of the blood. The hag had a cruel advantage, the want to hurt and to twist and a basic understanding of the trio. Of Howard's rage and his affliction. Of Thomas' impetuous nature. How he drives everyone away and yet is never alone. Of Erin, someone who by her own admission could not feel love or fear, yet accompanied this duo of ne'er do wells to potentially their collective doom. What Erin failed to realize is, you don't have to feel it for it to be there. Like the very air around them, sometimes harsh and cutting, other times oppressive and yet still many many other times it is not even a consideration.
"Howard White," the crone announced. She knew his full name. She knew more than his name, she knew his life. His dealings. His missteps, promises and betrayals. She knew his dreams because she was there, looking in. "The tyrant-victim," she dubbed him. She wanted but one thing and this was far from the moment of ecstasy she sought, but she wanted Howard for a reason. "I want to see not what you are, but what you could be," she responded. "And hope that you are not another" she eyed Erin "blathering failure." Erin was once a force of chaos, but somehow despite all she lacked she had gotten sentimental, weak.
Erin did not respond, she did not care.
"So I assign you," not Thomas or Erin. "To find the other coven and take from them an ounce of their living darkness." Not to defeat them. Not to tell them where they were. Grandmother simply did not care, she just wanted the nightmare fuel. "Or--" There was always an or. A test. An opportunity to undermine and to destroy. "An ounce of blood," undrunk obviously "from..." yellowed eyes flickered. "Someone who find sweet," that terrible smile never left her face, but something wiggling reared its head between her teeth. "I will know the difference."
Just a trick of the lighting they said...
28 Jul 2020, 09:01
That One Fateful Night
It seems like it was only yesterday. A girl, hunting for feeling. Anything that was not still and cold like home’s empty composition. Searching for an authentic birth of sensation that came from within, instead of others. Deprived of feeling anything more than quiescent and cold emptiness. It was not her fault. A boy, the hunted who became the hunter. What was once soft and charming, hardened underneath the flame of tribulations and betrayal.
Thomas recalled flashes from the past. Toppling bookshelves and unflattering visuals of Erin in a medical patient gown. Howard snapping on a whim. What’s really changed aside from the claws and fangs, or the girl’s acquisition of a heart? The common link between the three was fear. To be empty and alone, to lose someone again, or of what they could become. Only now would Thomas see as he’s in the grips of a dark force that wielded infernal magic, all the trio had was each other. But to see and to accept were two different things.
With the emergence of dark forces, a commonality was provided amongst the three. Trivial rivalries were no longer prioritized, not even a blink on the radar. Survival took center stage. It was to be seen in Howard’s plea for Thomas to stop his forward march towards the shrieks. It was not a traditional sound to welcome them into her home. It was a baiting call, preying on Lestrange’s instinctual curiosity. Was it of his own making, or placed there by his own coven? It did not matter, the fact is drawn to them. There was no deterrence, his feet dragging along the stone surfaces like a puppet on a string. Until he could move no further.
The makeup of his hag was notably different. Where auntie would initially contemplate the boy as a snack, grandma would propose spilling blood for sport. But the boy knew a crone would not idly toss away a tool to use. As the chapped lips curled up to reveal her razor set of teeth, Thomas would tilt his head away with a grimace, eyes finding a floor to escape her gaze. Even if Auntie had a more gluttonous nature, those teeth were a reminder of the constant amongst hags. There would not be a moment’s hesitation to tear through his flesh.
"Heknowswhere!"
Survival has changed the nature of this evening. Erin pleaded on Thomas’ behalf, a notion she has not completely parted from their past. Duly noted by Thomas, not only would she attempt to delay the crone’s wrath, but her words served as a reminder of what the boy could use as leverage. But to no avail, as the creature would lift an arm to swipe through flesh. The boy was agile, instinctively tilting his head to preserve a fatal point of contact. Her long nails would cut through the fabric, sending several parallel slants across his chest.
If Thomas’ feet were no longer stuck, he would gasp before collapsing down to the floor. Landing with a grunt, his palms instinctively found the sticky surfaces that made up the floor. The walls would stir and scatter from the boy’s fall. Likely an excited acceleration for the latest victim. When Thomas’ fingers made contact with the stick substances along the floor, he quickly withdrew contact. Using the adrenaline to find his feet(if possible), a pounding chest from the energy spent to regain footing. It was then, he would find the red eyes in the darkness.
"If you happen to see Howie around, which I doubt, I'd advise you to take extreme caution."
Words that arrived from a mutual peer crossed through his mind. An older girl that claimed to know Howard with a page dedicated to him in her journal. Perhaps her words had merit. Was this set of red eyes still allowing for the reasoning of Howard, or was it nature’s call taking the helm? Now merely a dhampir, driven by the blood. The Slytherin’s careful set of icy blue eyes would contrast the boy’s red, a subtle shake of the head from Thomas, before a sharp look down to his wounds. The blood soaked the fabric of his shirt, seeping from the slanted lines at a slow and delicate pace. After a moment's hesitation, Thomas would bring his hands to his chest, staining them with his blood.
"He knows,"
Erin’s continued helpless pleads were doing Thomas no favors. “Shut up!” Erin may have partially redeemed herself, clearly not the outright liar Thomas thought she was. She did not offer him complete disclosure either. The crone that sliced through him only moments ago who she referred to as Grandmother appeared dissatisfied with her performance. Now honing in on Howard to assign him a task. A minor consolation...anything to distract Howard from the blood dripping down his chest, or Grandmother’s continued ire.
There was no follow up attack, and it was not a killing blow. Signifying the creature had reasons to keep Thomas alive. After the crone finished her exchange with Howard, Thomas’ eyes would flicker across to the pair, before resting on Erin. Self-preservation was the forefront of the reluctant words to follow. “I will show you the way.”Thomas conceded, his eyes remained locked with the part-veela. However, the words were intended for the Hag’s newest servant(had Howard chose to accept), and if he did not, for grandmother herself.
Thomas recalled flashes from the past. Toppling bookshelves and unflattering visuals of Erin in a medical patient gown. Howard snapping on a whim. What’s really changed aside from the claws and fangs, or the girl’s acquisition of a heart? The common link between the three was fear. To be empty and alone, to lose someone again, or of what they could become. Only now would Thomas see as he’s in the grips of a dark force that wielded infernal magic, all the trio had was each other. But to see and to accept were two different things.
With the emergence of dark forces, a commonality was provided amongst the three. Trivial rivalries were no longer prioritized, not even a blink on the radar. Survival took center stage. It was to be seen in Howard’s plea for Thomas to stop his forward march towards the shrieks. It was not a traditional sound to welcome them into her home. It was a baiting call, preying on Lestrange’s instinctual curiosity. Was it of his own making, or placed there by his own coven? It did not matter, the fact is drawn to them. There was no deterrence, his feet dragging along the stone surfaces like a puppet on a string. Until he could move no further.
The makeup of his hag was notably different. Where auntie would initially contemplate the boy as a snack, grandma would propose spilling blood for sport. But the boy knew a crone would not idly toss away a tool to use. As the chapped lips curled up to reveal her razor set of teeth, Thomas would tilt his head away with a grimace, eyes finding a floor to escape her gaze. Even if Auntie had a more gluttonous nature, those teeth were a reminder of the constant amongst hags. There would not be a moment’s hesitation to tear through his flesh.
"Heknowswhere!"
Survival has changed the nature of this evening. Erin pleaded on Thomas’ behalf, a notion she has not completely parted from their past. Duly noted by Thomas, not only would she attempt to delay the crone’s wrath, but her words served as a reminder of what the boy could use as leverage. But to no avail, as the creature would lift an arm to swipe through flesh. The boy was agile, instinctively tilting his head to preserve a fatal point of contact. Her long nails would cut through the fabric, sending several parallel slants across his chest.
If Thomas’ feet were no longer stuck, he would gasp before collapsing down to the floor. Landing with a grunt, his palms instinctively found the sticky surfaces that made up the floor. The walls would stir and scatter from the boy’s fall. Likely an excited acceleration for the latest victim. When Thomas’ fingers made contact with the stick substances along the floor, he quickly withdrew contact. Using the adrenaline to find his feet(if possible), a pounding chest from the energy spent to regain footing. It was then, he would find the red eyes in the darkness.
"If you happen to see Howie around, which I doubt, I'd advise you to take extreme caution."
Words that arrived from a mutual peer crossed through his mind. An older girl that claimed to know Howard with a page dedicated to him in her journal. Perhaps her words had merit. Was this set of red eyes still allowing for the reasoning of Howard, or was it nature’s call taking the helm? Now merely a dhampir, driven by the blood. The Slytherin’s careful set of icy blue eyes would contrast the boy’s red, a subtle shake of the head from Thomas, before a sharp look down to his wounds. The blood soaked the fabric of his shirt, seeping from the slanted lines at a slow and delicate pace. After a moment's hesitation, Thomas would bring his hands to his chest, staining them with his blood.
"He knows,"
Erin’s continued helpless pleads were doing Thomas no favors. “Shut up!” Erin may have partially redeemed herself, clearly not the outright liar Thomas thought she was. She did not offer him complete disclosure either. The crone that sliced through him only moments ago who she referred to as Grandmother appeared dissatisfied with her performance. Now honing in on Howard to assign him a task. A minor consolation...anything to distract Howard from the blood dripping down his chest, or Grandmother’s continued ire.
There was no follow up attack, and it was not a killing blow. Signifying the creature had reasons to keep Thomas alive. After the crone finished her exchange with Howard, Thomas’ eyes would flicker across to the pair, before resting on Erin. Self-preservation was the forefront of the reluctant words to follow. “I will show you the way.”Thomas conceded, his eyes remained locked with the part-veela. However, the words were intended for the Hag’s newest servant(had Howard chose to accept), and if he did not, for grandmother herself.
@Howard White @Erin Ryan
We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful what we pretend to be
Stamina: 8 | Evasion: 7 | Strength: 7 | Wisdom: 8 | ArcPower: 3 | Accuracy: 7
Ability - Evasive Maneuvers 2x
30 Jul 2020, 05:02
That One Fateful Night
@Thomas Lestrange @Erin Ryan
Howard stood, rooted on the spot as the Hag made her approach. He had warned Thomas to stop, but nothing was going to deter his movement. The only thing he could do now was to breath, deep and slow to keep the panic at bay. His hands would fall to his side, palms forward as he flexed his fingers. Howard had grown, both in height and in strength, as had his senses and reflexes. The transformation had turned him into an adequate killer, but he was still no match for something as powerful as the Crone. He could turn and run, but there was no way that he would escape this darkness. If he was going to die this night, at least he would go out swinging.
Howard’s eyes would flick back and forth between the Hag and Erin as she began to spoke. She called the vile creature by name. As disturbing as this should have been, a flame of hope would flicker below the shadow of fear that clouded his belly. If Erin knew this Crone, perhaps she could barter for their lives. Perhaps they might just live to see another day. However, Thomas seemed determined to die. As the he and the wicked beast began to converse, a threat would be his offering.
Howard’s voice would cut through the air in a harsh whisper. “Thomas! You fucking...”
SLICE
The Dhampir’s insult would be interrupted as sharpened claws swished through the air, slicing through Thomas’ flesh like a knife through softened butter. It was not the sudden violence that stayed his words, but the scent. The halls were filled with the smell of death and decay, the wafts of sulfur and ash assaulted the boys sensitive nose, but nothing could mask the sweet scent of the blood that oozed from Thomas’ wound. Like freshly baked bread or a prime cut sizzling away on the grill, it would call to a primal hunger inside him. Howard’s deep breaths of fear would turn to a pant of desire as his red eyes fixated on bloodied clothes. Thomas would look his way only to see fangs slowly descending from the empty sockets in his gum line, a murderous look in his eye.
Erin’s cry of shock would shake Howard back into the present. With a few quick blinks, his focus would turn to her as she rushed to Thomas’ aid. With a quickness she would remove her jacket and use to to staunch the flow of blood. The scent was still a powerful, but the sight before him would distract the urge to feed. The dim lighting of the passageway shone across her back, highlighting the series of scars that marred her back. It was not the damaged flesh that have the boy pause, but the way it moved. It wasn’t the kind of movement that came from flexing muscles or stretching limbs. It was unnatural, as if something squirmed just underneath. “What the...”
A cackle tore through the air, drawing Howard’s attention back to the Hag as it laughed in twisted glee. The creature did not fall upon Thomas for a killing blow or turn its aggression towards the rest. It was then that he realized that their death was not it’s immediate intention. As always, a deal was to be made and Howard made his inquiry.
The Crone would call him by name before giving him another. The tyrant victim, an apt title for the boy and one that would most likely accompany him for the rest of his life. It would offer him an assignment, an ounce of darkness or an ounce blood. Howard’s eyes would dart to Thomas. An easy choice considering he was already bleeding, but as he looked back to the Hag, it made it clear that this would be no easy task as some twisting abomination wiggled between her jagged teeth. He would either risk his life to retrieve darkness from another coven, or steal something precious from someone he cared for. The list was short, but price was too heavy. Only one face came to mind and he would die before sacrificing her.
Although death was surely the price to pay if Howard refused, that didn’t mean that a reward was out of the question. Perhaps his continued existence would serve as payment, but dark deals were the way of the Hag. Thomas would offer to serve as guide. “I will get you your darkness. I need to know how to collect it...and what I get in return.”
Howard stood, rooted on the spot as the Hag made her approach. He had warned Thomas to stop, but nothing was going to deter his movement. The only thing he could do now was to breath, deep and slow to keep the panic at bay. His hands would fall to his side, palms forward as he flexed his fingers. Howard had grown, both in height and in strength, as had his senses and reflexes. The transformation had turned him into an adequate killer, but he was still no match for something as powerful as the Crone. He could turn and run, but there was no way that he would escape this darkness. If he was going to die this night, at least he would go out swinging.
Howard’s eyes would flick back and forth between the Hag and Erin as she began to spoke. She called the vile creature by name. As disturbing as this should have been, a flame of hope would flicker below the shadow of fear that clouded his belly. If Erin knew this Crone, perhaps she could barter for their lives. Perhaps they might just live to see another day. However, Thomas seemed determined to die. As the he and the wicked beast began to converse, a threat would be his offering.
Howard’s voice would cut through the air in a harsh whisper. “Thomas! You fucking...”
SLICE
The Dhampir’s insult would be interrupted as sharpened claws swished through the air, slicing through Thomas’ flesh like a knife through softened butter. It was not the sudden violence that stayed his words, but the scent. The halls were filled with the smell of death and decay, the wafts of sulfur and ash assaulted the boys sensitive nose, but nothing could mask the sweet scent of the blood that oozed from Thomas’ wound. Like freshly baked bread or a prime cut sizzling away on the grill, it would call to a primal hunger inside him. Howard’s deep breaths of fear would turn to a pant of desire as his red eyes fixated on bloodied clothes. Thomas would look his way only to see fangs slowly descending from the empty sockets in his gum line, a murderous look in his eye.
Erin’s cry of shock would shake Howard back into the present. With a few quick blinks, his focus would turn to her as she rushed to Thomas’ aid. With a quickness she would remove her jacket and use to to staunch the flow of blood. The scent was still a powerful, but the sight before him would distract the urge to feed. The dim lighting of the passageway shone across her back, highlighting the series of scars that marred her back. It was not the damaged flesh that have the boy pause, but the way it moved. It wasn’t the kind of movement that came from flexing muscles or stretching limbs. It was unnatural, as if something squirmed just underneath. “What the...”
A cackle tore through the air, drawing Howard’s attention back to the Hag as it laughed in twisted glee. The creature did not fall upon Thomas for a killing blow or turn its aggression towards the rest. It was then that he realized that their death was not it’s immediate intention. As always, a deal was to be made and Howard made his inquiry.
The Crone would call him by name before giving him another. The tyrant victim, an apt title for the boy and one that would most likely accompany him for the rest of his life. It would offer him an assignment, an ounce of darkness or an ounce blood. Howard’s eyes would dart to Thomas. An easy choice considering he was already bleeding, but as he looked back to the Hag, it made it clear that this would be no easy task as some twisting abomination wiggled between her jagged teeth. He would either risk his life to retrieve darkness from another coven, or steal something precious from someone he cared for. The list was short, but price was too heavy. Only one face came to mind and he would die before sacrificing her.
Although death was surely the price to pay if Howard refused, that didn’t mean that a reward was out of the question. Perhaps his continued existence would serve as payment, but dark deals were the way of the Hag. Thomas would offer to serve as guide. “I will get you your darkness. I need to know how to collect it...and what I get in return.”
1 Aug 2020, 01:15
That One Fateful Night
Thomas was going to get himself killed if he was allowed to talk ever again. As if a shovel had been surgically attached to his tongue and every time he spoke he dig a little bit of earth away around himself. The pit he now existed in was both vast and deep.
The distinctive scent of blood would fill the air. Not just any blood, but Thomas'. The appetizing aroma would leave him salivating. Erin would turn her head towards Howard who did not step forward as she tried to staunch the bleeding from his wounds. She would stare at the fangs that broke through his gums. "Merlin, Howard!" Erin scolded the dhamphir, even if it was reflexive and they just show up when he gets erm... excited. Thomas is a friend... Thomas, not food!
He did not lunge at Thomas, harnessing what self-control he had. However those sharp incisors reiterated a fact that was sometimes easy to ignore -- Howard was not human. Howard was dangerous.
He was occupied by the hag who appeared to be more interested in him than in her. Hags were killers by nature, cannibalistic creatures that take pleasure in the suffering of others. The vile workings of these creatures is a mystery, the glee they receive pulling a good man from grace propels them onward. There is no vendetta, no specific plan. Difficult, if not possible to manipulate... to predict. Agents of chaos, they were incredibly powerful and dangerous creatures. Far above what Erin, Howard or Thomas could contend with on their own. Perhaps one day, together they could. That day was not today and in truth their relationship was fractured from the start, Erin was a terrible, cruel little girl and whatever sense of regret or conscience she has developed did not negate her many trespasses. Howard and Thomas always had the potential to be monsters, circumstance and opportunity had allowed their awful promise to flourish. Their paranoia and dangerous choices would always haunt them, always divide them.
What did the hag want with these three? A trio of misfits with the combined arcane power of a discount muggle magician. In truth, they had played into the hags' calloused hands and have bit by bit sold their humanity for trifles. They were 'human' in name only.
“I will get you your darkness. I need to know how to collect it...and what I get in return.”
Howard responded. His choice made: he would risk near certain death over hurting what he cared about. There was a spark of good, a spark of hope within him still. Something that would have to be ultimately quashed. Taking an ounce of blood, far from what is necessary to take a life but enough to cause discomfort, trepidation and anger from someone he cared about. That was all that was necessary to stop him, even if it put him in peril.
His choice would break him and the other coven's plaything all the same. "The living darkness..." the s~ lingered with a hiss. "Fights back," she gestured towards the walls that seems to shift. Disembodied globules, monstrosities that resembled arachnids and centipedes. None of the creatures that resided in the dungeons lashed out, but there was the unspoken threat that such could change at any time. "They are my living darkness," not quite like the spiders that rushed the Slytherin common room. "Theirs will be... unique." A hint that this won't be as easy as their delusional, hopeful minds might have contrived.
"Find the living darkness. Avoid being stung, clawed or bit." As if that was not obvious already. "Capture the darkness in something impermeable and pure, contents protected from the light." The instructions simple and clear, but far from easy.
At the very least the boy asked for payment. As if survival was not incentive enough. However, he was already being paid, he just failed to accept their many, generous gifts. "You want MORE," the hag waddled forth. Her back to the duo, Thomas and Erin. She had nothing to fear from children. Her long, curved nail would extend towards Howard. The jagged tip would narrowly miss his pretty, young face but a lock of fair would be cut away as if touched by a razor. "When you have failed to appreciate our presence or heed our call until today?" It might have felt like a testy girlfriend miffed that they did not get a phone call in time.
Of course he did not know how, he never asked and he never learned... how to communicate with them. How to hear their call. It was in his nature to avoid them, the irony of being a nocturnal creature. "They find you at night," Erin's voice wavered. "When you sleep," a hint to Howard, the right answer. The reason why he was alone. A truth she had denied him for months. Howard was a nocturnal creature, a rumor validated by his exposed fangs but long suspected considering his pallid complexion and his crimson eyes. Not that he always had those, she remembered when they were... normal. Brown maybe.
The reason why Howard had so often missed the crones was because he was a creature of the night himself. Something he had in common with these 'women.' They could hear but they could not speak. "That is when they whisper their secrets and why--" she hesitated "you are likely alone." The answer was to not sleep, at least not at night when they came looking. There was no hiding from them once you had a stone, a stone Howard had broken. A stone Erin was not going to remind the unstable youth of.
Thomas offered to take them, to show them the way. Erin's toes would curl. She did not want to go. She felt nauseated at the notion. It was more than dangerous, it was a fool's journey. She could not trust Thomas, the boy had a death wish and moreover had nearly gotten her killed once before. She had no intention of following, not that she would admit to such sentiments. Not in front of grandmother less she wanted to be cut down where she stood. "I hate you," Erin hissed in Thomas' ear as she pushed down harder on his wounds. Her hand felt sticky and wet, her dull (comparatively) senses could even smell the stench of blood. It was oppressive, seemed dirty.
"What more could you possibly want?"
The distinctive scent of blood would fill the air. Not just any blood, but Thomas'. The appetizing aroma would leave him salivating. Erin would turn her head towards Howard who did not step forward as she tried to staunch the bleeding from his wounds. She would stare at the fangs that broke through his gums. "Merlin, Howard!" Erin scolded the dhamphir, even if it was reflexive and they just show up when he gets erm... excited. Thomas is a friend... Thomas, not food!
Reducio
He did not lunge at Thomas, harnessing what self-control he had. However those sharp incisors reiterated a fact that was sometimes easy to ignore -- Howard was not human. Howard was dangerous.
He was occupied by the hag who appeared to be more interested in him than in her. Hags were killers by nature, cannibalistic creatures that take pleasure in the suffering of others. The vile workings of these creatures is a mystery, the glee they receive pulling a good man from grace propels them onward. There is no vendetta, no specific plan. Difficult, if not possible to manipulate... to predict. Agents of chaos, they were incredibly powerful and dangerous creatures. Far above what Erin, Howard or Thomas could contend with on their own. Perhaps one day, together they could. That day was not today and in truth their relationship was fractured from the start, Erin was a terrible, cruel little girl and whatever sense of regret or conscience she has developed did not negate her many trespasses. Howard and Thomas always had the potential to be monsters, circumstance and opportunity had allowed their awful promise to flourish. Their paranoia and dangerous choices would always haunt them, always divide them.
What did the hag want with these three? A trio of misfits with the combined arcane power of a discount muggle magician. In truth, they had played into the hags' calloused hands and have bit by bit sold their humanity for trifles. They were 'human' in name only.
“I will get you your darkness. I need to know how to collect it...and what I get in return.”
Howard responded. His choice made: he would risk near certain death over hurting what he cared about. There was a spark of good, a spark of hope within him still. Something that would have to be ultimately quashed. Taking an ounce of blood, far from what is necessary to take a life but enough to cause discomfort, trepidation and anger from someone he cared about. That was all that was necessary to stop him, even if it put him in peril.
His choice would break him and the other coven's plaything all the same. "The living darkness..." the s~ lingered with a hiss. "Fights back," she gestured towards the walls that seems to shift. Disembodied globules, monstrosities that resembled arachnids and centipedes. None of the creatures that resided in the dungeons lashed out, but there was the unspoken threat that such could change at any time. "They are my living darkness," not quite like the spiders that rushed the Slytherin common room. "Theirs will be... unique." A hint that this won't be as easy as their delusional, hopeful minds might have contrived.
"Find the living darkness. Avoid being stung, clawed or bit." As if that was not obvious already. "Capture the darkness in something impermeable and pure, contents protected from the light." The instructions simple and clear, but far from easy.
At the very least the boy asked for payment. As if survival was not incentive enough. However, he was already being paid, he just failed to accept their many, generous gifts. "You want MORE," the hag waddled forth. Her back to the duo, Thomas and Erin. She had nothing to fear from children. Her long, curved nail would extend towards Howard. The jagged tip would narrowly miss his pretty, young face but a lock of fair would be cut away as if touched by a razor. "When you have failed to appreciate our presence or heed our call until today?" It might have felt like a testy girlfriend miffed that they did not get a phone call in time.
Of course he did not know how, he never asked and he never learned... how to communicate with them. How to hear their call. It was in his nature to avoid them, the irony of being a nocturnal creature. "They find you at night," Erin's voice wavered. "When you sleep," a hint to Howard, the right answer. The reason why he was alone. A truth she had denied him for months. Howard was a nocturnal creature, a rumor validated by his exposed fangs but long suspected considering his pallid complexion and his crimson eyes. Not that he always had those, she remembered when they were... normal. Brown maybe.
The reason why Howard had so often missed the crones was because he was a creature of the night himself. Something he had in common with these 'women.' They could hear but they could not speak. "That is when they whisper their secrets and why--" she hesitated "you are likely alone." The answer was to not sleep, at least not at night when they came looking. There was no hiding from them once you had a stone, a stone Howard had broken. A stone Erin was not going to remind the unstable youth of.
Thomas offered to take them, to show them the way. Erin's toes would curl. She did not want to go. She felt nauseated at the notion. It was more than dangerous, it was a fool's journey. She could not trust Thomas, the boy had a death wish and moreover had nearly gotten her killed once before. She had no intention of following, not that she would admit to such sentiments. Not in front of grandmother less she wanted to be cut down where she stood. "I hate you," Erin hissed in Thomas' ear as she pushed down harder on his wounds. Her hand felt sticky and wet, her dull (comparatively) senses could even smell the stench of blood. It was oppressive, seemed dirty.
"What more could you possibly want?"
Just a trick of the lighting they said...
7 Aug 2020, 06:07
That One Fateful Night
Thomas lay there recessed into the viscous floor that limited his control to simply move. Erin at his side, bringing her camisole to serve as a pressure bandage against his wounds. Thomas reluctantly accepted the item to soak the blood that seeped through the sliced fabric. After enough blood had transferred to the separate article of clothing, perhaps then Howard could have the treat he craved. So as long as it did not mean he would dig deeper into Thomas from his primal instincts, furthering his bloodshed and leaving the boy with fatal wounds.
The chills climbed down his spine, not for the crone, but the more immediate threat Howard White would pose. Erin pleaded with the boy to deter from his new target. His new ambition was evident from the way his piercing red eyes found a color that matched, the color of Thomas’ blood. Thomas could only offer an uncomfortable glance towards Erin, before wearily looking up to see Howard again. His fangs emerged from the resting place, ready to serve the boy with this new opportunity. He would not look at Thomas as a human being, or a friend. Fixated on the dampened chest that revealed the tear of skin, exposing his flesh. “Howard…” Thomas uttered, lifting his left palm carefully with a short nod. Stay in control.
He did not understand the boy’s nature beyond the craving of blood and pale complexion. He would rest upon the rapport the boys’ have developed through mutual hardships. Hag experiments, tools with different tasks, hanging on a string with empty promises. Perhaps they would get the things they sought, but at what cost? The process has already begun, and by the end Thomas would not be able to align with the boy that followed the crone into the woods. What he wanted would no longer matter with time.
For the moment, Erin would shake the boy away from honing in on Thomas. Signalling he was not at a complete loss of control, but without Erin, would Thomas himself pleading be enough? Thomas would still remain wary, distributing his focus between the crone and Howard, preparing himself to run at the opportune moment. With a deep breath and fearful gulp, he would begin to accept the only one on his side was the girl he betrayed. Whether it was his intention to deliver Erin to Auntie on a platter or not, that was the way the hag had viewed it. And that was the way Erin viewed it. There was no amending that choice.
Erin did not want him dead, or at least not by the hands of another. Perhaps her desire to kill him on her own time was what led to her defensive posture at his side. Whatever the case, Thomas could not muster the typical distaste her visual conjured. He was appreciative of her willingness to protect him from further harm, but of course he would never admit that.
The hag addressed Howard and only Howard, engaging him in a discussion, a new assignment to acquire the darkness in something that escapes the light. Erin would chime with tips along the way, the most travelled in the presence of crones, and the most reluctant to engage them. The most afraid of what they will ask. Perhaps a fact Thomas and Howard should have considered before walking into the open casket that the crone would close with a smile before taking them away.
Thomas offered his help to Howard, whether to achieve the darkness, or guide him to it. But the crone was not done, perhaps she had a different task for Thomas that was not yet presented. Leading the boy to remain silent, certainly learning from his initial approach. He would only speak when spoken to. The desire to run was a constant, but as Howard brought the Dhampir further into her grasp, a dart to escape was not wise. The darkness around them may lash out, or the hag could threaten Howard’s life, or worse...sick Howard onto Thomas like an animal to be slaughtered.
Thomas would only regain his footing if he could, keeping the balled up camisole that Erin offered to pressure his wounds.[I missed this last post, I am saying that he took it when offered. If she rescinded this offer, then Thomas would be using his bare hands to pressure his wounds as best he could]. His skin had paled from the loss of blood, his breath shortening as he struggled to find his feet. Erin pressed harder into his wounds that accentuated her displeasure. After all it was Thomas who had led them this way, and Thomas who was left bloody and at risk of further harm. Curiosity killed the cat.
The first time anyone has said those words to him. It didn’t feel very good in unison with her forcing her hands against his wounds. This is the moment where Thomas apologized for everything, right? The breaking point where the two can launch from to make amends and salvage the blooming friendship that once was. “I hate you too, darling.” Thomas scoffed, using a forearm to force her back. No, this was in fact not that moment.
The chills climbed down his spine, not for the crone, but the more immediate threat Howard White would pose. Erin pleaded with the boy to deter from his new target. His new ambition was evident from the way his piercing red eyes found a color that matched, the color of Thomas’ blood. Thomas could only offer an uncomfortable glance towards Erin, before wearily looking up to see Howard again. His fangs emerged from the resting place, ready to serve the boy with this new opportunity. He would not look at Thomas as a human being, or a friend. Fixated on the dampened chest that revealed the tear of skin, exposing his flesh. “Howard…” Thomas uttered, lifting his left palm carefully with a short nod. Stay in control.
He did not understand the boy’s nature beyond the craving of blood and pale complexion. He would rest upon the rapport the boys’ have developed through mutual hardships. Hag experiments, tools with different tasks, hanging on a string with empty promises. Perhaps they would get the things they sought, but at what cost? The process has already begun, and by the end Thomas would not be able to align with the boy that followed the crone into the woods. What he wanted would no longer matter with time.
For the moment, Erin would shake the boy away from honing in on Thomas. Signalling he was not at a complete loss of control, but without Erin, would Thomas himself pleading be enough? Thomas would still remain wary, distributing his focus between the crone and Howard, preparing himself to run at the opportune moment. With a deep breath and fearful gulp, he would begin to accept the only one on his side was the girl he betrayed. Whether it was his intention to deliver Erin to Auntie on a platter or not, that was the way the hag had viewed it. And that was the way Erin viewed it. There was no amending that choice.
Erin did not want him dead, or at least not by the hands of another. Perhaps her desire to kill him on her own time was what led to her defensive posture at his side. Whatever the case, Thomas could not muster the typical distaste her visual conjured. He was appreciative of her willingness to protect him from further harm, but of course he would never admit that.
The hag addressed Howard and only Howard, engaging him in a discussion, a new assignment to acquire the darkness in something that escapes the light. Erin would chime with tips along the way, the most travelled in the presence of crones, and the most reluctant to engage them. The most afraid of what they will ask. Perhaps a fact Thomas and Howard should have considered before walking into the open casket that the crone would close with a smile before taking them away.
Thomas offered his help to Howard, whether to achieve the darkness, or guide him to it. But the crone was not done, perhaps she had a different task for Thomas that was not yet presented. Leading the boy to remain silent, certainly learning from his initial approach. He would only speak when spoken to. The desire to run was a constant, but as Howard brought the Dhampir further into her grasp, a dart to escape was not wise. The darkness around them may lash out, or the hag could threaten Howard’s life, or worse...sick Howard onto Thomas like an animal to be slaughtered.
Thomas would only regain his footing if he could, keeping the balled up camisole that Erin offered to pressure his wounds.[I missed this last post, I am saying that he took it when offered. If she rescinded this offer, then Thomas would be using his bare hands to pressure his wounds as best he could]. His skin had paled from the loss of blood, his breath shortening as he struggled to find his feet. Erin pressed harder into his wounds that accentuated her displeasure. After all it was Thomas who had led them this way, and Thomas who was left bloody and at risk of further harm. Curiosity killed the cat.
"I hate you,"
The first time anyone has said those words to him. It didn’t feel very good in unison with her forcing her hands against his wounds. This is the moment where Thomas apologized for everything, right? The breaking point where the two can launch from to make amends and salvage the blooming friendship that once was. “I hate you too, darling.” Thomas scoffed, using a forearm to force her back. No, this was in fact not that moment.
@Erin Ryan @Howard White
We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful what we pretend to be
Stamina: 8 | Evasion: 7 | Strength: 7 | Wisdom: 8 | ArcPower: 3 | Accuracy: 7
Ability - Evasive Maneuvers 2x
14 Aug 2020, 05:11
That One Fateful Night
@Thomas Lestrange @Erin Ryan
Howard’s eyes flicked back and forth from the Hag to the space around them. It was as if shadow had somehow learned to take on whatever shape it pleased as it twisted and turned. He had heard the rumors about that night in the Slytherin dorms and what happened to his own house earlier that year, but this would be the first time he saw it with his own eyes. The Crone claimed ownership over the dark monsters and made it clear that it was only it’s command that kept it from tearing the trio to pieces.
The task was simple as the Hag laid out what must be done. Infiltrate the other Coven, steal the darkness and store it in something that was pure and impenetrable to light. A clue that wouldn’t be obvious to Howard just yet, but hopefully with time the boy would recognize the living darkness’s one weakness. It would be then that the teenaged Dhampir would risk it all and ask for payment.
With surprising quickness, the Hag waddled its way towards Howard. His eyes popped wide as the fear rooted him on the spot, a claw swiped through the air. He took a quick breath in shock as he waited for the pain to come. For that quick moment where you don’t feel the injury to pass and for the blood to pour, but it wouldn’t come. A wisp of hair would fall from his head, floating down to his feet. Another threat, but again his life would be spared.
“You never called.” Howard would begin after a deep breath to calm his nerves. He didn’t lie. Since his first encounter he had waited for a sign or whisper, any form of direction, but it would never come. It would be then that Erin would explain. They would reach out to your subconscious as you slept away the night, but it had been a long time since he had done so. Although the boy still looked mostly human, his transformation had stripped most of that humanity away. He was now a creature of the night, his skin highly sensitive to the suns harmful rays, the urge to feed kept him awake during the hours that called most to sleep. Rest would come to Howard for a couple hours near dawn and perhaps a few more after dinner, but it had been over a year since he slept through the night.
“I don’t sleep at night, I did not recognize your call.” The Dhampir pleaded, his palms raised as he spoke. For the moment it seemed enough to hold the Crone at bay. She asked his price. The same face that flashed through his mind’s eye when the Hag asked for the blood of someone sweet would reappear once more. The face of Howard’s mother. His last link to the humanity left behind. The binding factor that kept the dim light of Howie alive in the dark soul that was Howard. To become what he was destined to be that tie had to be severed, but he lacked the strength to do so. If only he didn’t exist...then she would be free. No more pain, no more fear, no more tainted memories, no more love lost.
Howard’s eyes would lock with the Crone’s, the rims stained red as tears formed but failed to fall. “I need to erase myself from someone’s memory without harm.” Yes, magic could be used to do this, but Howard lacked the skill to do so and knew no one else that would be willing or able to commit the crime. “For that, I will get you what you want.” His crimson eyes would fall to Erin and Thomas. “I need him to guide me and her to fight with me if there is to be any chance of success. If the terms are acceptable we need to leave. Those wounds need to be tended to.” Again his gaze would fall to the Hag.
Howard’s eyes flicked back and forth from the Hag to the space around them. It was as if shadow had somehow learned to take on whatever shape it pleased as it twisted and turned. He had heard the rumors about that night in the Slytherin dorms and what happened to his own house earlier that year, but this would be the first time he saw it with his own eyes. The Crone claimed ownership over the dark monsters and made it clear that it was only it’s command that kept it from tearing the trio to pieces.
The task was simple as the Hag laid out what must be done. Infiltrate the other Coven, steal the darkness and store it in something that was pure and impenetrable to light. A clue that wouldn’t be obvious to Howard just yet, but hopefully with time the boy would recognize the living darkness’s one weakness. It would be then that the teenaged Dhampir would risk it all and ask for payment.
With surprising quickness, the Hag waddled its way towards Howard. His eyes popped wide as the fear rooted him on the spot, a claw swiped through the air. He took a quick breath in shock as he waited for the pain to come. For that quick moment where you don’t feel the injury to pass and for the blood to pour, but it wouldn’t come. A wisp of hair would fall from his head, floating down to his feet. Another threat, but again his life would be spared.
“You never called.” Howard would begin after a deep breath to calm his nerves. He didn’t lie. Since his first encounter he had waited for a sign or whisper, any form of direction, but it would never come. It would be then that Erin would explain. They would reach out to your subconscious as you slept away the night, but it had been a long time since he had done so. Although the boy still looked mostly human, his transformation had stripped most of that humanity away. He was now a creature of the night, his skin highly sensitive to the suns harmful rays, the urge to feed kept him awake during the hours that called most to sleep. Rest would come to Howard for a couple hours near dawn and perhaps a few more after dinner, but it had been over a year since he slept through the night.
“I don’t sleep at night, I did not recognize your call.” The Dhampir pleaded, his palms raised as he spoke. For the moment it seemed enough to hold the Crone at bay. She asked his price. The same face that flashed through his mind’s eye when the Hag asked for the blood of someone sweet would reappear once more. The face of Howard’s mother. His last link to the humanity left behind. The binding factor that kept the dim light of Howie alive in the dark soul that was Howard. To become what he was destined to be that tie had to be severed, but he lacked the strength to do so. If only he didn’t exist...then she would be free. No more pain, no more fear, no more tainted memories, no more love lost.
Howard’s eyes would lock with the Crone’s, the rims stained red as tears formed but failed to fall. “I need to erase myself from someone’s memory without harm.” Yes, magic could be used to do this, but Howard lacked the skill to do so and knew no one else that would be willing or able to commit the crime. “For that, I will get you what you want.” His crimson eyes would fall to Erin and Thomas. “I need him to guide me and her to fight with me if there is to be any chance of success. If the terms are acceptable we need to leave. Those wounds need to be tended to.” Again his gaze would fall to the Hag.
26 Aug 2020, 22:09
That One Fateful Night
The hag wanted none of them dead. Death was not her objective, that puts an end to her game. Understanding the nature of the hag was a simple task when you understood what they are. Hags take delight in causing ruin; in bringing a good man down. Were any of the ever good? Time and circumstance were striping away their better nature, those glimmering specks in a sea of dark.
As strange as it sounds, a hag rarely meets with humans without an objective. Always pulling the strings from behind the scenes. Dark creatures at their command, they hardly had a reason for an errand boy. The point was making them more than complicit, rather active participants in the destructive choices that were made. Erin's grip on reality was thin, fragile at best. Howard's anger was being gently fed, coaxed. LeStrange just needed the opportunity, hardly a reason. no matter the circumstances he would have been deemed a 'troubled boy.'
“You never called.”
On the contrary, she called many times. Howard was just not able to take calls. A victim of the night, when the sun set the nocturnal youth rarely slept.
"The contrary," she assured him but the tone was not one of assurance but rather correction. Not that she offered any proof, any evidence. In truth, she did not care.
“I don’t sleep at night, I did not recognize your call.”
It left Howard trying to explain himself. However looking upon his pallid visage, his thin, tall frame and his thick nails, it was obvious what Howard was. A 'dark' creature, no longer wholly human. Just another excuse to exert his will. To use force. To take something so intimate, so vital from others.
"You would sleep better if you ate better," she observed. Words he anted to hear,the sort that egged him on. That nagging hunger that ebbed.
She gave Howard a price he would be unwilling to pay. There was purpose in that, his life versus the trust in someone he truly cares for. There was something personal, visceral and yes... brutal about the concept of taking blood, even for someone that found sustenance in it. The price being something that the hag did not even want, the purpose to make him do her bidding of his volition. To unbalance the young wizard. However, some people fall into traps by stumbling in. Some devise an even worse prison of their own making.
“I need to erase myself from someone’s memory without harm.”
Oh the sweet irony...
The crone had to stifle her own laughter as his crimson-rimmed eyes met her own jaundiced stare. She knew the gift he had been given before, it did not cause one to forget, just fail to speak. There was harm. Pain. Trauma. It was not for just his protection. Even if it was, the conditional that it had to be harmless. That said much of his intent, of what he wanted and how naive and foolish the boy was. There was always harm in forgetting. To withdraw oneself from what they care for. To PROTECT them. It was a foolhardy and childish conclusion to come to that left their loved one vulnerable to whatever threat they wished to save them from. It left them alone, with an emptiness that they had no hope of filling. It left the forgotten alone.
“For that, I will get you what you want.”
Yet he thought he was making deals when his prize should have been the price.
“I need him to guide me and her to fight with me if there is to be any chance of success. If the terms are acceptable we need to leave. Those wounds need to be tended to.”
Did he truly think himself so important that he could choose the terms? What hubris. Her lips peeled back revealing a row of green, sharp teeth. "You weave a hard deal," she sucked a bit of air through her teeth. No need to ham up the act too much. He was on the right path with almost no effort. What a good boy. "It is within my power..." her voice faded off for a moment, her eyes focused on a place past him. Into the dark, writhing shadows.
Of course now it was her turn. Tit for tat. "Magic is more than waving a stick and saving a few words, at least for mine..." she claimed. Her neck craned to the side as she looked him over. "Looks like I will need that blood" from someone sweet but that went without saying. He revealed his weakness in his request. "Blood is the source of my imperium. Older magic than the sort you know. Harder to give, harder to take."
Enter the rabbit hole Howard.
"An ounce still, but then I will want my living darkness. Your sweet alternative is off the table," the hag offered. The concern here was truly her willingness to conform, to comply and assist the boy for no greater cost. Just the components.
_______________________________________________________________________
Erin was focused on Thomas for whatever reason. He could not keep his blood on the inside like civilized folk, terribly undomesticated and wholly troublesome. She just did not want Howard to rip the asshole apart. She probably should have, he had earned it. It was not really his blood on her hands, she just failed to stop him.
Something stopped her from just letting 'nature' take its course. She pressed hard against his wound.
“I hate you too, darling.”
With his forearm he would push her back. Erin would top backwards, hardly braced for resistance. The pressure she exerted on his wound lost, the bleeding would continue. The air would contain that foul stench. She grit her teeth and balled her fist. She had leverage and superior strength. She would rebound, attempt to deck him miss or hit. It did not matter to her as she attempted to shove the now bloodied rag against his wound. "I will kick you ass later you damn masochist," she grunted. She would make the suicidal youth live by force if necessary.
Just a trick of the lighting they said...