30 Apr 2019, 21:07
The Unstoppable Force Vs the Immovable Object
There was an enduring legacy of blood in pure-blood families. Of sacred tradition and family. Wizards were not meant to forget their past but rather to learn from it. Much like religion was created for a reason -- to create order among the masses and to ensure their place in the hierarchy, similar could be said of taboos and rituals. There was always a reason. She could trace the legacy of her empty state to a time before her first days, to Azkaban and dementors, they being the most human-relevant example at the very least. There have been incidents since of course, however it was hard to glean anything from such incidents, the truth almost always relegated to legend and fear. Her festering paranoia made the truth so much harder to determine. There was this hollow state that seemed to be growing within the student body as well as the disappearances of several students over the past two years that fed the girl's paranoia.
It almost seemed to be the trait of a braggart, this lack of sentiment, a boon. They knew not what they endeavored to lack. Passion was something she yearned for, the ability to be something more than merely alive. To experience more than the run-off of those that felt something. She found herself enamored by passionate youths, by liars and cheats, by dangerous and angry individuals. Part of this was her fault, it was the only emotion she could skillfully elicit, their ire. Howard White had become a dangerous obsession of hers. She saw a potential in him.
She was clever, just not as clever as she was ambitious. There is this adage that one must fake it to make it. Exhortation she might heed. Erin had recently purchased a blank book, the cream colored pages bereft of words and the simple sage green, soft moleskin covered tome had no title. Of course that was before today. A bottle of indigo ink rest in the grass, the tip of a simple black quill waited for her. She was taking notes and on this page she was about to write Howard White's story. She knew relatively little about him besides his name, his gender, his physical attributes, his ties to the muggle world and his relative geographic location. She had more questions than answers and she was making connections where there was none.
Erin was looking for his Achilles, everyone had one even if they did not realize it. While most would presume that such impotence could be sourced from those that one loved, a theory that Erin submitted herself to. Love made people weak and she remembered that wave of warmth she felt when Howard thought of his mother. To her it burned. Not because she reviled such sentiments but rather because she understood what it meant to love and to have your sanity, hope, past and future tied into a single person. How dangerous that was. How useful that was to someone such as her.
Erin was always hungry, but she had learned over the past year that such would never be sated. The pursuit of such was a chimera. Her pursuit of satiety would destroy her but in a lot of ways it was like an addiction, this gnawing desire to bring someone to the precipice of bliss or the depths of destruction. It was starting to cause the girl to devolve into madness; her want and hunger overwhelming and all-consuming. Erin was the consummate glutton. It could be said that she was always this way, a truth. However, Erin like Howard was changing. When she first arrived at Hogwarts it was he instinct to feed that compelled her, the high she derived from their pain that propelled her despite the risk of harm and dire consequence. It was more self-destructive than anything else.
Time, experience and measurable losses have caused her to refine her goals, to see the world differently. The blinders now off, she saw something nobody else had. The fields were empty, abandoned and enervated. People were missing. People were empty. Howard was among the missing at one point, there was something of value inside of him when she first encountered him that made him a stand out. He returned after a protracted period of absence different. He never lacked, but now the well had no bottom and the Hufflepuff was unrecognizable. She wondered on occasion what had happened to him as well as so many others, mostly Prefects. That was only a passing curiosity. She would never pursue to heroes' call, not that there was anyone to save. This was nothing more than an opportunity.
She would clap the book closed and ultimately it would find its way back into her quarters. She was not foolish enough to hide her thoughts under her mattress, things were better hidden in plain sight. She had three notes to write, each part of a larger plan.
Prefect Lowe-- something bad is going to happen in the dungeons beneath Hogwarts tonight around seven in the evening.
There was a formality to her note, but there was no signature, no details and no location beyond a vague concept. The dungeons were quite large and this was a gamble, she was banking this on the word choices Hugh Lowe had used during their previous and only encounter. He called himself a knight. The Prefect was full of shit but she could use the delusion to her benefit. She believed if anything Hugh was a part of all of this, of these disappearances. She believed that if Hugh was not a contributing force, he was complicit. Of course her plan was a bit more complicated than draw a second potential enemy into the same room as a known enemy, it always was.
Erin had recently returned from Hogsmede the day before. She went alone, her accomplice did not accompany her on this run despite the fact that efforts were made to include him. She was planning to kidnap Hugh Lowe, that was what the wizard tight and butterbeer she had amassed were for. Well, most of the bottles. In a large satchel, comparatively it made the second year appear quite small, she packed the bag with full bottles of unaltered butter beer. A clean sheet was also stuffed into that same bag, it prevented the bottles from rattling. She fastened the flap and tested the weight, it was heavy but she would manage.
Classes ended at four thirty that day. She did not have much time to prepare. She gathered the bottles and her satchel. She changed out of her Slytherin uniform, she never wore her uniform outside of class. Call it a yearning to be an individual perhaps. She wore a simple white dress that ended at her knees. There were no embellishments, just a row of cloth-covered buttons down the face. Short sleeves and a fitted shape, cinched with a white belt at the waist. The attire was not her norm, she usually wore wool or silk but this was cotton. The era was more akin to the 1950s rather than the 1890s. Anyone that knew her or took notice in her would note that there was something off, something wrong. Her long, indigo hair was pulled back from her face, tied into a braid.
She was prepared to fight him despite the fact that she did not look like she fit the role. Her wand was affixed to her thigh, out of sight. The same could be said about her lock-picking knife. She heaved her bag over her shoulder, the walk was short for Erin because the Slytherin quarters were on the same level. The sound of the hard soles of her shoes, a sharp clicking noise, heralded her approach. Erin would arrive exactly on time, not a moment too early or too late.
Had Howard arrived before her? It was impossible to know in such a dark space. "Howard?" Erin would call out. "Howard White?" She would lean to the side and let the satchel slide off her shoulder, the loss of weight a respite. She would roll her shoulder and look around. She would strain slightly as she listened to see if she could hear him approach. It was useless unless Howard was a screaming madman making his way down the halls, she would reach below the hem of her skirt and attempt to acquire her wand. She would draw the wand and with a swish of a wand as well as the statement of a single word "Lumos" that if uttered would fill the passageway in light.
It almost seemed to be the trait of a braggart, this lack of sentiment, a boon. They knew not what they endeavored to lack. Passion was something she yearned for, the ability to be something more than merely alive. To experience more than the run-off of those that felt something. She found herself enamored by passionate youths, by liars and cheats, by dangerous and angry individuals. Part of this was her fault, it was the only emotion she could skillfully elicit, their ire. Howard White had become a dangerous obsession of hers. She saw a potential in him.
She was clever, just not as clever as she was ambitious. There is this adage that one must fake it to make it. Exhortation she might heed. Erin had recently purchased a blank book, the cream colored pages bereft of words and the simple sage green, soft moleskin covered tome had no title. Of course that was before today. A bottle of indigo ink rest in the grass, the tip of a simple black quill waited for her. She was taking notes and on this page she was about to write Howard White's story. She knew relatively little about him besides his name, his gender, his physical attributes, his ties to the muggle world and his relative geographic location. She had more questions than answers and she was making connections where there was none.
Howard White: Second Year Hufflepuff
• Muggle heritage.
• Wizard heritage.
• Violent, dangerous, passionate. The unstoppable force.
• Knows love -- Who? What? Why?
• Contrarian in regards to his previous profile 2018: fearful, anxious, non-aggressive, passive.
• Disappeared fall 2018, reappeared late winter 2019. Circumstances unknown however marked change noted in profile upon return. Is he involved or is he a victim?
Determination: malleable and suitable to inure.
Erin was looking for his Achilles, everyone had one even if they did not realize it. While most would presume that such impotence could be sourced from those that one loved, a theory that Erin submitted herself to. Love made people weak and she remembered that wave of warmth she felt when Howard thought of his mother. To her it burned. Not because she reviled such sentiments but rather because she understood what it meant to love and to have your sanity, hope, past and future tied into a single person. How dangerous that was. How useful that was to someone such as her.
Erin was always hungry, but she had learned over the past year that such would never be sated. The pursuit of such was a chimera. Her pursuit of satiety would destroy her but in a lot of ways it was like an addiction, this gnawing desire to bring someone to the precipice of bliss or the depths of destruction. It was starting to cause the girl to devolve into madness; her want and hunger overwhelming and all-consuming. Erin was the consummate glutton. It could be said that she was always this way, a truth. However, Erin like Howard was changing. When she first arrived at Hogwarts it was he instinct to feed that compelled her, the high she derived from their pain that propelled her despite the risk of harm and dire consequence. It was more self-destructive than anything else.
Time, experience and measurable losses have caused her to refine her goals, to see the world differently. The blinders now off, she saw something nobody else had. The fields were empty, abandoned and enervated. People were missing. People were empty. Howard was among the missing at one point, there was something of value inside of him when she first encountered him that made him a stand out. He returned after a protracted period of absence different. He never lacked, but now the well had no bottom and the Hufflepuff was unrecognizable. She wondered on occasion what had happened to him as well as so many others, mostly Prefects. That was only a passing curiosity. She would never pursue to heroes' call, not that there was anyone to save. This was nothing more than an opportunity.
She would clap the book closed and ultimately it would find its way back into her quarters. She was not foolish enough to hide her thoughts under her mattress, things were better hidden in plain sight. She had three notes to write, each part of a larger plan.
The note served two purposes: one, it told Myth that she would be late. Second, if she failed to return she would be missed. She did not give a name or a location, she did not want him to see what was going to happen down there. In a strange way, she actually cared what he thought enough to take part in this masquerade. Howard was dangerous and if anyone was her Achilles, she feared it would be Geoffrey and with enough time also Paracelsus.Paracelsus-- I am running late. Don't expect me before nine. I have to meet with a Hufflepuff, H.W.
Erin
Prefect Lowe-- something bad is going to happen in the dungeons beneath Hogwarts tonight around seven in the evening.
There was a formality to her note, but there was no signature, no details and no location beyond a vague concept. The dungeons were quite large and this was a gamble, she was banking this on the word choices Hugh Lowe had used during their previous and only encounter. He called himself a knight. The Prefect was full of shit but she could use the delusion to her benefit. She believed if anything Hugh was a part of all of this, of these disappearances. She believed that if Hugh was not a contributing force, he was complicit. Of course her plan was a bit more complicated than draw a second potential enemy into the same room as a known enemy, it always was.
Howard -- I am sorry, I wish to make amends. Meet me in the dungeons, at five this evening. Take your first right and follow the passageway until you can go no further, then take another right. I will be there at five.
Erin
It was an obvious trap. Howard might have been born at night but not last night, but she knew he would be there. There was a point to this meeting but it was most certainly not amends. The back-up plans, both Hugh and Paracelsus, were only in place if things went very wrong. A lot could happen in two or four hours.
Erin had recently returned from Hogsmede the day before. She went alone, her accomplice did not accompany her on this run despite the fact that efforts were made to include him. She was planning to kidnap Hugh Lowe, that was what the wizard tight and butterbeer she had amassed were for. Well, most of the bottles. In a large satchel, comparatively it made the second year appear quite small, she packed the bag with full bottles of unaltered butter beer. A clean sheet was also stuffed into that same bag, it prevented the bottles from rattling. She fastened the flap and tested the weight, it was heavy but she would manage.
Classes ended at four thirty that day. She did not have much time to prepare. She gathered the bottles and her satchel. She changed out of her Slytherin uniform, she never wore her uniform outside of class. Call it a yearning to be an individual perhaps. She wore a simple white dress that ended at her knees. There were no embellishments, just a row of cloth-covered buttons down the face. Short sleeves and a fitted shape, cinched with a white belt at the waist. The attire was not her norm, she usually wore wool or silk but this was cotton. The era was more akin to the 1950s rather than the 1890s. Anyone that knew her or took notice in her would note that there was something off, something wrong. Her long, indigo hair was pulled back from her face, tied into a braid.
She was prepared to fight him despite the fact that she did not look like she fit the role. Her wand was affixed to her thigh, out of sight. The same could be said about her lock-picking knife. She heaved her bag over her shoulder, the walk was short for Erin because the Slytherin quarters were on the same level. The sound of the hard soles of her shoes, a sharp clicking noise, heralded her approach. Erin would arrive exactly on time, not a moment too early or too late.
Had Howard arrived before her? It was impossible to know in such a dark space. "Howard?" Erin would call out. "Howard White?" She would lean to the side and let the satchel slide off her shoulder, the loss of weight a respite. She would roll her shoulder and look around. She would strain slightly as she listened to see if she could hear him approach. It was useless unless Howard was a screaming madman making his way down the halls, she would reach below the hem of her skirt and attempt to acquire her wand. She would draw the wand and with a swish of a wand as well as the statement of a single word "Lumos" that if uttered would fill the passageway in light.
Last edited by Aurelia Notresvace on 1 May 2019, 01:17, edited 1 time in total.
Just a trick of the lighting they said...
3 May 2019, 04:33
The Unstoppable Force Vs the Immovable Object
Howard read the note one more time as he made his way towards the stairwell. Erin was luring him into the dungeons, some bullshit about wanting to make amends. It almost made him laugh out loud when he first read it. The boy knew Erin was incapable of feeling remorse, not her own anyways. She may steal it by accident, but that dark husk of a girl would never produce her own.
No, this was certainly a trap. One Howard couldn’t resist. As much as he had come to hate her, she had bored into his mind like some sick parasite, digging out a comfy home for herself within the boy’s psyche. She, more than any other, allowed him to feel it. The power he yearned to wield. The freedom to use it against another, to bend them to his will, to break them down. It stayed with him always, just there in the back of his mind. It itched for release, and Erin would scratch it.
Howard pushed the door open, revealing the torch lit stairs that descended into the basement of the castle. The clock had just struck four as he made his way down into the bowels of Hogwarts. He had skipped his last class and made out early for the prearranged destination. No way in hell would he allow Erin the time to set up whatever scheme she had planned.
His black school robe billowed behind him as he moved down the passageway with purpose, his footsteps would echo off the walls as his boots made contact with the stone floor. The first right, walk until it ended, and then another right. As the passageway came to a close, Howard would slow his pace. Crouching down he made the final turn. He had not lit his wand or removed one of the torches from the wall, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He crept into the meeting place and after a few tense moments, it would seem that he had beaten her here. Howard put his back to a wall, drew his wand and began his wait.
Click-clack...click-clack...click-clack. The sound had become familiar to him. He had no doubt that it was the sound of Erin’s approach. Howard took in slow, steady breaths as the noise came closer.
“Howard...Howard White?”
She called out to him. He would not answer. Squinting into the darkness, Howard could make out her shape. A shift in her body would result in a thump on the floor as she let something fall from her shoulder. He held his wand out before him, ready to strike in a moments notice.
“Lumos.”
The light from the end of her wand would illuminate thier shared space. If she was looking straight ahead, she would see him staring back at her. His expression was cold, his eyes colder. She would she the tip of his wand pointed in her direction.
“Erin...Erin Ryan?” He mocked her. “No sudden movements...or I’ll open you up again.”
No, this was certainly a trap. One Howard couldn’t resist. As much as he had come to hate her, she had bored into his mind like some sick parasite, digging out a comfy home for herself within the boy’s psyche. She, more than any other, allowed him to feel it. The power he yearned to wield. The freedom to use it against another, to bend them to his will, to break them down. It stayed with him always, just there in the back of his mind. It itched for release, and Erin would scratch it.
Howard pushed the door open, revealing the torch lit stairs that descended into the basement of the castle. The clock had just struck four as he made his way down into the bowels of Hogwarts. He had skipped his last class and made out early for the prearranged destination. No way in hell would he allow Erin the time to set up whatever scheme she had planned.
His black school robe billowed behind him as he moved down the passageway with purpose, his footsteps would echo off the walls as his boots made contact with the stone floor. The first right, walk until it ended, and then another right. As the passageway came to a close, Howard would slow his pace. Crouching down he made the final turn. He had not lit his wand or removed one of the torches from the wall, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He crept into the meeting place and after a few tense moments, it would seem that he had beaten her here. Howard put his back to a wall, drew his wand and began his wait.
Click-clack...click-clack...click-clack. The sound had become familiar to him. He had no doubt that it was the sound of Erin’s approach. Howard took in slow, steady breaths as the noise came closer.
“Howard...Howard White?”
She called out to him. He would not answer. Squinting into the darkness, Howard could make out her shape. A shift in her body would result in a thump on the floor as she let something fall from her shoulder. He held his wand out before him, ready to strike in a moments notice.
“Lumos.”
The light from the end of her wand would illuminate thier shared space. If she was looking straight ahead, she would see him staring back at her. His expression was cold, his eyes colder. She would she the tip of his wand pointed in her direction.
“Erin...Erin Ryan?” He mocked her. “No sudden movements...or I’ll open you up again.”
12 May 2019, 03:12
The Unstoppable Force Vs the Immovable Object
OC: My alert for this thread never went off. I am so sorry.
Howard had beaten her there, not that she would know it. The space was cold and dark, the air stale and damp. There was vermin in these halls, that skitter of little claws against the slick stone. She followed the same directions she had given Howard, terminating her journey in the prescribed space. It was lonesome here, even with Howard near. Dungeons do that, make you feel separate and indistinct, alone and forgotten. Trapped.
She called out his name.
"Lumos"
A voice called back, she immediately identified the voice as belonging to Howard. She had been looking right at him but in the darkness before that wand, like a bright incandescent bulb, lit the same causing her to her shield her eyes with her hands. Bright. It was too bright.
“Erin...Erin Ryan?”
He derided and Erin scoffed, "you remembered my name -- how sweet." She blinked, accommodating to the light only to see a wand pointed at her. Her mouth cocked to the side as she smirked at him and slowly raised her hands, her palms facing him.
“No sudden movements...or I’ll open you up again.”
Howard threatened. She had bled for several days off and on, whenever she coughed or stretched. She still had the mark, a single red line that bisected her abdomen just below the umbilicus.
"Why in the seven hell's would I want to do anything like that?" She backed away from the Hufflepuff a single step but remained just behind the bag. "If I wanted to fuck with you, it would not be a fair fight," never a truer word had been said. "You're an asshole, so I doubt you have any friends or a girlfriend to threaten... you're a paranoid shit," she nodded in the direction of his wand as she said that. "So it is not as if you would walk into some trap, stumble into a pair of manacles..." She made a tsking noise. "I could force you to enter a situation, explore a noise, venture into an isolated place and have you fucking believe that it was your idea because you're predictable." If she kept going he was going to blast a hole in her gut so she decided to stop there despite the fact that it was in her nature to dig. She was not here for a meal, at least not yet.
She was not lowering her hands and it would appear that she was unarmed. She was bending slowly at the waist, "I... am... opening this bag..." If he made a move to stop her she would pause, her eyes on his eyes not his wand. They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul, they told secrets that the mouth would never tell. She felt that Howard was angry, but that his anger was covering his fear. That he would lash out if he felt threatened. Of course, she also felt the same highs he did. The freak got off on feeling like he was in control. So she could just play along and save her fists for another day.
If she was not prevented from withdrawing the contents, she would retrieve a bottle of butter beer from the bag and toss it with an underhanded motion towards Howard. "It is sealed, I probably did not fuck with it. Just chill." She let out an exasperated sigh, "I can kick your ass after if you are that desperate for a girl's touch."
If he looked like she was going to stop her, she would stop and kick the bag with the side of her foot to cause the contents to spill out. Rags, just long bits of cloth between bottles filled with amber fluid. They were clearly marked and sealed, all claiming to be butter beer. "Just trying to make you reach some level of chill, otherwise you'd be chewing nails and spitting out barbed wire before I can get anything out of you."
She would wait and she what he does. Does he drink it? Insist that she drink it? Get all pissy and toss it down the hall, breaking a perfectly good bottle of butter beer. If he made a demand that sounded semi-reasonable, she would play along otherwise she would simply stand there and only attack if he attacked first. There was nothing really stopping her from finishing what she started a few weeks earlier if necessary, but whatever it was for some reason she seemed content with the present outcome.
Just a trick of the lighting they said...
18 May 2019, 04:29
The Unstoppable Force Vs the Immovable Object
Predictable. An apt description of the young Hufflepuff. The rage was a warm winter cloak worn by his fear. It wrapped it around tight, hiding itself from view. The fear was not brought on by the normal things most thirteen year olds were scared of. Did I get a good grade? Does Jane really like me? What will my parents think? Questions that held no importance to the young boy. What truly terrified Howard was losing control. No, he was not afraid to unlock the door and let his anger fly. To unleash his hate and watch the world burn. He was afraid that those that moved against him would gain the upper hand. That they would overpower him, outsmart him, beat him down as so many before had. This fear fueled his rage...his rage fueled his power and this spinning wheel of destruction would stop for no one.
Howard half listened as she rambled on, the usual insults and nonsense she used to try and trigger him. The two had come to know each other quite well. Some sick attraction that seemed to always bring them together. She poked and he roared. It defined thier twisted relationship. Erin was empty and Howard was full. She provided the release and he the meal. However, as he looked upon her with arms raised, this time seemed different. Had she wanted to feed all she would have to do is continue. Keep pushing until he spilled over, or rush him if she wanted to fight. He shifted his weight back and forth between his feet, his fingers twitching on the handle of his wand as he tried to figure it out. Their eyes would meet as she began to slowly bend at the waist, her hands reaching for the bag at her feet. “Don’t be fuckin stupid Erin..”
Before he finished his statement, Erin would rise with a bottle in her hand. A flash of golden yellow would fly his way as Howard reached out with his free hand to catch the beer. His eyes shifted between her and the bottle. Erin had not risen armed or used the brief break in eye contact to try an assault. What was she after? An odd sense of curiosity swept over him and with it came a calm. Well, as calm as a boy like Howard could be.
“This...” Howard held up the bottle. “Is why you’ve asked me to come down into the dungeons, Erin? To share a drink and relax? Are we mates now then?” A smile that had nothing to do with pleasure crossed his face. “We’ve done our usual bullshit. I’ve come to your calling, and you’ve done you’re best to insult me. If we aren’t going to try and kill each other, then please enlighten me.” The beer was cool in his hand. Like she had said, it appeared sealed. Fuck it. The boy thought to himself, he was feeling unusually careless. Howard kept his wand trained on Erin and brought the bottle to his mouth. Using his molars he would pry of the top, spit it out to the side and take a long pull. “There you go Erin. I’ve had my drink. Now...what the fuck do you want?”
Howard half listened as she rambled on, the usual insults and nonsense she used to try and trigger him. The two had come to know each other quite well. Some sick attraction that seemed to always bring them together. She poked and he roared. It defined thier twisted relationship. Erin was empty and Howard was full. She provided the release and he the meal. However, as he looked upon her with arms raised, this time seemed different. Had she wanted to feed all she would have to do is continue. Keep pushing until he spilled over, or rush him if she wanted to fight. He shifted his weight back and forth between his feet, his fingers twitching on the handle of his wand as he tried to figure it out. Their eyes would meet as she began to slowly bend at the waist, her hands reaching for the bag at her feet. “Don’t be fuckin stupid Erin..”
Before he finished his statement, Erin would rise with a bottle in her hand. A flash of golden yellow would fly his way as Howard reached out with his free hand to catch the beer. His eyes shifted between her and the bottle. Erin had not risen armed or used the brief break in eye contact to try an assault. What was she after? An odd sense of curiosity swept over him and with it came a calm. Well, as calm as a boy like Howard could be.
“This...” Howard held up the bottle. “Is why you’ve asked me to come down into the dungeons, Erin? To share a drink and relax? Are we mates now then?” A smile that had nothing to do with pleasure crossed his face. “We’ve done our usual bullshit. I’ve come to your calling, and you’ve done you’re best to insult me. If we aren’t going to try and kill each other, then please enlighten me.” The beer was cool in his hand. Like she had said, it appeared sealed. Fuck it. The boy thought to himself, he was feeling unusually careless. Howard kept his wand trained on Erin and brought the bottle to his mouth. Using his molars he would pry of the top, spit it out to the side and take a long pull. “There you go Erin. I’ve had my drink. Now...what the fuck do you want?”
21 May 2019, 19:57
The Unstoppable Force Vs the Immovable Object
@Howard White was suspicious of her motives, he knew her well.
“Don’t be fuckin stupid Erin..”
He warned as she retrieved the bottle from her bag. "The best stories start with I did something fucking stupid the other day..." She quipped, less her stiff movements to keep his nerves at bay as she tossed the bottle with a smooth underhanded motion in Howard's direction. She was playing a new game with Howard, one that they had not played before.
“This... Is why you’ve asked me to come down into the dungeons, Erin? To share a drink and relax? Are we mates now then?”
"Partially," she admitted with a queer confidence that was only betrayed by her movements and posture which remained tense and stiff. The boy was on the cusp of simply lashing out, that was now his perpetual state. It was time to bottle that rage.
“We’ve done our usual bullshit. I’ve come to your calling, and you’ve done you’re best to insult me. If we aren’t going to try and kill each other, then please enlighten me.”
"You sound a bit disappointed," she observed as he took a drink.
"There you go Erin. I’ve had my drink. Now...what the fuck do you want?”
"You," she announced. "Not in a romantic sense," she clarified. "The drink is to chill you out, I doubt I have to be concerned about a loss of inhibitions with you... so essentially an elective chemical restraint." She was being honest it would seem. "Your mouthwash has more alcohol, but it seemed more likely you would be willing to drink this in an amount that proves to be quantity sufficient." She waved her hands that were still raised side to side before she lowered them, they were getting tired in that hold-up pose she was maintaining.
"If you really need another fist fight," she shrugged "I am not going to deny us both a good time." She half smiled, "I feel what you feel after all -- the high is... exquisite." She took in a deep lungful of the moist dungeon air, "you're a veritable feast but I am insatiable and you're..." her voice trailed off. She was not going to say that. "Everything I envy," she stated instead.
"The butterbeer is yours," she gestured towards the open bag. "I don't know how to dose you're size, Cloverfield is a lot smaller than you and he was giddy on part of a bottle, takes me a bottle," she was a light weight but Alex was worse. "I don't want to be dealing with some drunk, but a bit of chill would go a long way. I don't want you to mouth off to crone," she looked up at him and thought to herself that is a useless ambition but it would be his funeral I guess.
While her voice and words seemed to come from someone who was at ease, her mannerisms remained stiff. She was not scared, she was prepared. She did not anticipate making it to harridan's lair without some sort of scuffle, it was like leaving a divorced couple in the same room with a pair of knives and no witnesses. He was larger than her by a fair measure, Erin's major benefit was that she did not play by any established rules but with time and repetition Howard seemed less inclined to comply to any rule-set that would leave him vulnerable.
If he drank more she would wait. She seemed to prefer sobriety, she was not taking a bottle for herself. If he wanted to give her an obstinate look and hold onto a mostly full bottle of butter-beer or carry an armful, it was of no consequence to her. If he did not decide that this was a good time for another fight she would walk past him. She would turn her back to him, there was no way she could navigate the dungeon walking backwards. "This way..."
"I was born without the ability to feel anything, not fear or remorse, sorrow or loss but also never happiness or love. But I could always feel what other people had felt, their wrath and insecurity, their jealousy and concern. Most emotions are feigned," she shrugged. "We pretend to be happy, to be in love, to be a friend, but such sentiments are most often lies we tell each other and ourselves but we feel nothing at all or... it was a moment in time that came and went and they try to bottle that feeling." She rounded a corner. "You lied a lot, so much you believed your own narrative, polite and friendly on the surface. You seemed capable, perhaps content to maintain a mundane existence such as that as wretched as it might seem. But once your facade was cracked, because everyone has the same face as you - nearly featureless like a mask, you were an unending well rather than a trickling stream that flowed like tears. And, there was something else about you that I also observed," she paused at a crossroads and sniffed the air. The air had a stale scent. She turned to the right. "You were different, I poked and you don't just roar. There is more that just a rage in you, there is a swelling sense of bliss that made my mind swim." The stale scent was starting to grow foul, like rotted meat and sulfur.
"We are almost there, you'll forget the scent," she announced. "I told them about you, they wanted to see this well of violence and bliss." She was telling tales it would seem, strange ones at that. She let out a low cough, ahead down the hall there was a light around the corner. No noise, not yet at the very least but the shadows played in an eerie way. It was then that one could note, Erin never drew her wand this entire journey she walked in the dark less the perhaps dim ambient light provided by Howard. She had been traversing this maze based on scent, the stink here was overpowering in fact.
“Don’t be fuckin stupid Erin..”
He warned as she retrieved the bottle from her bag. "The best stories start with I did something fucking stupid the other day..." She quipped, less her stiff movements to keep his nerves at bay as she tossed the bottle with a smooth underhanded motion in Howard's direction. She was playing a new game with Howard, one that they had not played before.
“This... Is why you’ve asked me to come down into the dungeons, Erin? To share a drink and relax? Are we mates now then?”
"Partially," she admitted with a queer confidence that was only betrayed by her movements and posture which remained tense and stiff. The boy was on the cusp of simply lashing out, that was now his perpetual state. It was time to bottle that rage.
“We’ve done our usual bullshit. I’ve come to your calling, and you’ve done you’re best to insult me. If we aren’t going to try and kill each other, then please enlighten me.”
"You sound a bit disappointed," she observed as he took a drink.
"There you go Erin. I’ve had my drink. Now...what the fuck do you want?”
"You," she announced. "Not in a romantic sense," she clarified. "The drink is to chill you out, I doubt I have to be concerned about a loss of inhibitions with you... so essentially an elective chemical restraint." She was being honest it would seem. "Your mouthwash has more alcohol, but it seemed more likely you would be willing to drink this in an amount that proves to be quantity sufficient." She waved her hands that were still raised side to side before she lowered them, they were getting tired in that hold-up pose she was maintaining.
"If you really need another fist fight," she shrugged "I am not going to deny us both a good time." She half smiled, "I feel what you feel after all -- the high is... exquisite." She took in a deep lungful of the moist dungeon air, "you're a veritable feast but I am insatiable and you're..." her voice trailed off. She was not going to say that. "Everything I envy," she stated instead.
"The butterbeer is yours," she gestured towards the open bag. "I don't know how to dose you're size, Cloverfield is a lot smaller than you and he was giddy on part of a bottle, takes me a bottle," she was a light weight but Alex was worse. "I don't want to be dealing with some drunk, but a bit of chill would go a long way. I don't want you to mouth off to crone," she looked up at him and thought to herself that is a useless ambition but it would be his funeral I guess.
While her voice and words seemed to come from someone who was at ease, her mannerisms remained stiff. She was not scared, she was prepared. She did not anticipate making it to harridan's lair without some sort of scuffle, it was like leaving a divorced couple in the same room with a pair of knives and no witnesses. He was larger than her by a fair measure, Erin's major benefit was that she did not play by any established rules but with time and repetition Howard seemed less inclined to comply to any rule-set that would leave him vulnerable.
If he drank more she would wait. She seemed to prefer sobriety, she was not taking a bottle for herself. If he wanted to give her an obstinate look and hold onto a mostly full bottle of butter-beer or carry an armful, it was of no consequence to her. If he did not decide that this was a good time for another fight she would walk past him. She would turn her back to him, there was no way she could navigate the dungeon walking backwards. "This way..."
"I was born without the ability to feel anything, not fear or remorse, sorrow or loss but also never happiness or love. But I could always feel what other people had felt, their wrath and insecurity, their jealousy and concern. Most emotions are feigned," she shrugged. "We pretend to be happy, to be in love, to be a friend, but such sentiments are most often lies we tell each other and ourselves but we feel nothing at all or... it was a moment in time that came and went and they try to bottle that feeling." She rounded a corner. "You lied a lot, so much you believed your own narrative, polite and friendly on the surface. You seemed capable, perhaps content to maintain a mundane existence such as that as wretched as it might seem. But once your facade was cracked, because everyone has the same face as you - nearly featureless like a mask, you were an unending well rather than a trickling stream that flowed like tears. And, there was something else about you that I also observed," she paused at a crossroads and sniffed the air. The air had a stale scent. She turned to the right. "You were different, I poked and you don't just roar. There is more that just a rage in you, there is a swelling sense of bliss that made my mind swim." The stale scent was starting to grow foul, like rotted meat and sulfur.
"We are almost there, you'll forget the scent," she announced. "I told them about you, they wanted to see this well of violence and bliss." She was telling tales it would seem, strange ones at that. She let out a low cough, ahead down the hall there was a light around the corner. No noise, not yet at the very least but the shadows played in an eerie way. It was then that one could note, Erin never drew her wand this entire journey she walked in the dark less the perhaps dim ambient light provided by Howard. She had been traversing this maze based on scent, the stink here was overpowering in fact.
If we have a throw down at some point, cool. If not I will be posting as a... something bad. Something fun.
Just a trick of the lighting they said...
25 May 2019, 04:20
The Unstoppable Force Vs the Immovable Object
Howard remained vigilant, but his posture would relax slightly as the two began to converse. His wand would remain pointed in her direction, but his wrist would slacken as his arm lowered just a bit. He could not completely trust her. Fighting dirty was one of Erin’s strong suits, however it seemed like she had not drawn him here for another fight, tempting as it may be. If it was not violence she sought, Howard was sure she had lured him here to use him for another purpose. It was what defined thier relationship after all.
Disappointed was not completely inaccurate. Howard’s ever present rage simmered at a low boil, and as Erin knew well, one only had to apply a little heat for it to spill over. It was part of what drew him to her. She usually provided the release. However, in this moment, it was curiosity that gripped him. His eyes would look her over, attempting to gain some insight on her intentions.
“You, not in a romantic sense.”
“Yeah, no shit Erin.” The thought was laughable. He listened as she explained the reason for the alcohol. His long legs would take a step forward closing the gap between them as his wand hand lowered, casting their faces in shadows. Only a light glint off the moisture of thier eyes would be visible. He spoke softly. “Well Erin, neither of us are bleeding. I think this is as chill as it gets for you and me.”
“If you really need another fist fight, I am not going to deny us both a good time.” The dull lighting would reveal a half smile.
“Hmm...” The noise was dangerously close to a laugh as the corner of his mouth rose to match her expression. “Tempting.”
“I feel what you feel after all, the high is...exquisite. You’re a veritable feast but I am insatiable and you’re...” His eyebrows rose as he awaited her answer. “Everything I envy.”
“So you can feel it.” Howard had always expected it, but to his memory she had never said it aloud. He could not describe in words the sensation that came with the release of his magical energies, but here stood another that might catch a glimpse. His power was not unlike the others, the energies flowed through them all the same, however it was the need to use it that isolated the boy from his peers. It was the ecstasy that followed that pushed him further and further down the dark path he was on. It did not come from any simple spell. Any child his age could unlock a door or levitate a feather. No, it was that his power could be used to control the world around him, to bend it to his will, to dominate it completely. His usually stern expression would break for just a moment as clarity washed over him. Before him stood an enemy, an opposing force, but what is yin without the yang? If the young pair did not kill each other, they may be the only ones to truly understand each other.
Her gesture to the side would break his train of thought. “The butter beer is yours.” His eyes would fall to the bag at her side, his hand following to grab another bottle. He slipped it into the pocket of his robe. “This’ll do.” Howard would take a step back, allowing her to pass as she made her way further into the dungeons. “This way.”
Howard followed closely, holding his lit wand high above his head. The air began to grow stale as they made their way into the bowels of the castle, the light reflected off the moist stone walls. He listened as Erin further explained her nature. Howard had no idea why she was opening up to him, but he found himself almost...fascinated. From their shared experiences, Howard had learned that Erin took pleasure in extreme emotions. It was obvious by her actions, however the knowledge that she could actually feel those emotions was mind boggling. It also explained why she always seemed so cold and empty. The feeling was hard to describe. Like a detective studying a serial killer. They may detest them, even hate them, but a part of thier mind does connect with them.
“You’re not wrong, Erin. I’ve always had this feeling inside of me. I tried to hide it, to push it down and pretend it didn’t exist. Worked for some time too. If you weren’t such a dick I might even thank you. I know the bliss that you speak of. I felt it once when I was younger, then again when I sent you into those bookshelves, and again when I cut you. It’s the truest...most pure emotion I’ve ever felt. Nothing can even come close in comparison.”
A whiff of rotten air stopped his words as he raised his sleeve to cover his nostrils. “What’s that smell? It’s awful.”
“We are almost there, you’ll forget the scent. I told them about you, they wanted to see this well of violence and bliss.”
Ahead, Howard could see the dim lighting. It flickered and mixed with the shadows in an eerie way. He slowed his pacing. “Them?” His hand would grip the handle of his wand tightly as he lowered it into dueling position. “Who’s there Erin?”
Disappointed was not completely inaccurate. Howard’s ever present rage simmered at a low boil, and as Erin knew well, one only had to apply a little heat for it to spill over. It was part of what drew him to her. She usually provided the release. However, in this moment, it was curiosity that gripped him. His eyes would look her over, attempting to gain some insight on her intentions.
“You, not in a romantic sense.”
“Yeah, no shit Erin.” The thought was laughable. He listened as she explained the reason for the alcohol. His long legs would take a step forward closing the gap between them as his wand hand lowered, casting their faces in shadows. Only a light glint off the moisture of thier eyes would be visible. He spoke softly. “Well Erin, neither of us are bleeding. I think this is as chill as it gets for you and me.”
“If you really need another fist fight, I am not going to deny us both a good time.” The dull lighting would reveal a half smile.
“Hmm...” The noise was dangerously close to a laugh as the corner of his mouth rose to match her expression. “Tempting.”
“I feel what you feel after all, the high is...exquisite. You’re a veritable feast but I am insatiable and you’re...” His eyebrows rose as he awaited her answer. “Everything I envy.”
“So you can feel it.” Howard had always expected it, but to his memory she had never said it aloud. He could not describe in words the sensation that came with the release of his magical energies, but here stood another that might catch a glimpse. His power was not unlike the others, the energies flowed through them all the same, however it was the need to use it that isolated the boy from his peers. It was the ecstasy that followed that pushed him further and further down the dark path he was on. It did not come from any simple spell. Any child his age could unlock a door or levitate a feather. No, it was that his power could be used to control the world around him, to bend it to his will, to dominate it completely. His usually stern expression would break for just a moment as clarity washed over him. Before him stood an enemy, an opposing force, but what is yin without the yang? If the young pair did not kill each other, they may be the only ones to truly understand each other.
Her gesture to the side would break his train of thought. “The butter beer is yours.” His eyes would fall to the bag at her side, his hand following to grab another bottle. He slipped it into the pocket of his robe. “This’ll do.” Howard would take a step back, allowing her to pass as she made her way further into the dungeons. “This way.”
Howard followed closely, holding his lit wand high above his head. The air began to grow stale as they made their way into the bowels of the castle, the light reflected off the moist stone walls. He listened as Erin further explained her nature. Howard had no idea why she was opening up to him, but he found himself almost...fascinated. From their shared experiences, Howard had learned that Erin took pleasure in extreme emotions. It was obvious by her actions, however the knowledge that she could actually feel those emotions was mind boggling. It also explained why she always seemed so cold and empty. The feeling was hard to describe. Like a detective studying a serial killer. They may detest them, even hate them, but a part of thier mind does connect with them.
“You’re not wrong, Erin. I’ve always had this feeling inside of me. I tried to hide it, to push it down and pretend it didn’t exist. Worked for some time too. If you weren’t such a dick I might even thank you. I know the bliss that you speak of. I felt it once when I was younger, then again when I sent you into those bookshelves, and again when I cut you. It’s the truest...most pure emotion I’ve ever felt. Nothing can even come close in comparison.”
A whiff of rotten air stopped his words as he raised his sleeve to cover his nostrils. “What’s that smell? It’s awful.”
“We are almost there, you’ll forget the scent. I told them about you, they wanted to see this well of violence and bliss.”
Ahead, Howard could see the dim lighting. It flickered and mixed with the shadows in an eerie way. He slowed his pacing. “Them?” His hand would grip the handle of his wand tightly as he lowered it into dueling position. “Who’s there Erin?”
27 May 2019, 02:40
The Unstoppable Force Vs the Immovable Object
Who -- No, the question was what?
She paused before she rounded the corner. "The crones," she announced explaining nothing else. She would walk in first, the heat from the cauldron met her face and the thick air made her cough. She would call out into the smoky haze that filled the room lit by the fire beneath a single iron boiling pot. The putrid concoction that they were brewing perfumed the air with a vile scent.
"I am here," Erin called into the veil of smoke. "I brought the boy," she added as an afterthought.
"Boy?"
"What boy?"
"The boy"
Shadows moved about in an unnatural order, limbs too long and a midsection too round to represent the gracile trio that stepped through the curtain of smoke. They were lovely creatures, even if they did not appear to be quite human. As if they had stepped out from another time, Howard might notice an uncanny resemblance. Not physically, but rather what they donned. Lace and wool, corsets and ribbon.
Too young to be crones. Too old to be students. Too lovely to be hags. "Let us take a look at your toy," some of the women excitedly scurried over to Howard. She was taller than Howard by several inches. She would attempt to place her ice cold hands against both of Howard's cheeks. "Sister Agnes, Auntie Mathilda, come look at this boy," she let out a cackle. "He is extraordinary!" She exclaimed. Long, slender fingers would attempt to cradle Howard's jaw, as if assessing a stallion at auction.
Erin would back away from Howard, let the 'ladies' have their way with him. Her arms crossed over her chest as she impatiently watched Howard become the center of their attention. These ladies were odd, their features were not like this. She knew them as crusted and crippled women with bent over carriage, flesh covered with festering boils. Hair like straw and green, crooked teeth. There was something wrong. Panic should be gripping the teen but she could feel nothing but she knew that there was something off. She had no affection for the Howard White, the brute who was better with his fists than his head. he was a berserker who would be hardly remembered for his endurance and brawn, most certainly not his wit.
But perhaps Erin had a shred of a soul. "They don't always look like this," Erin announced with her arms crossed over her chest.
A laughter would erupt from one, echoed by the others. "Tell me what drives you, serves as your adversary?"
"What do you want?
"Oh, we all know what any boy like him would want?"
"Make him say it."
"Pray it"
"Betray it."
"Uh," Erin peeled herself from the wall. "Howard..." She was not much for sentimental statements. "I changed my mind, they are being extra-weird."
One of the three women would simply snap her fingers. "Payment is the cure. A brutal fate you wish to endure."
"It burns... It burns... YoU'rE NoSe AnD tHrOaT. aNd ThIs PaIn Be YoUr AnTiDoTe. ThEiR sOuL a TrAiTor. To ThIs MaSoChIsT dO wE cAtEr."
One of the three women would pull something, it looked like a spider. A large spider about the size of her fist. She would toss the wiggling, writhing creature into the soupy mix. With a plunk followed by a simple chant by all three.
Rings, in the spirit of a spell,
Upon thy emptiness- a knell.
That strik'st a stillness into hell.
Cry til thrice you heard the bell.
It was a curse. The already foul air became imposing. Like a choking cloud. Erin has just become an irrelevant. What Howard did not know was that Howard was the price that Erin had paid for the one thing she coveted above all else -- a cure for her inhuman condition. Like many things: she should be careful what she wished for. It was like a searing hot dagger through her eye. This pain in her head. This sense of panic that stole her breath. This rumbling wrath that left her trembling. This maddening glee. She was feeling something, this agony. This bliss. This flood of intention and hate.
Erin would be too busy staring off into the space in front of her, eyes glazed over. She was not even screaming. She was utterly overwhelmed by this flood. This broken curse being also her bane. Howard was on his own, not that she would have tried to help him anyways.
It was time for a quality chat, just a few lovely ladies.
She paused before she rounded the corner. "The crones," she announced explaining nothing else. She would walk in first, the heat from the cauldron met her face and the thick air made her cough. She would call out into the smoky haze that filled the room lit by the fire beneath a single iron boiling pot. The putrid concoction that they were brewing perfumed the air with a vile scent.
"I am here," Erin called into the veil of smoke. "I brought the boy," she added as an afterthought.
"Boy?"
"What boy?"
"The boy"
Shadows moved about in an unnatural order, limbs too long and a midsection too round to represent the gracile trio that stepped through the curtain of smoke. They were lovely creatures, even if they did not appear to be quite human. As if they had stepped out from another time, Howard might notice an uncanny resemblance. Not physically, but rather what they donned. Lace and wool, corsets and ribbon.
Reducio
Too young to be crones. Too old to be students. Too lovely to be hags. "Let us take a look at your toy," some of the women excitedly scurried over to Howard. She was taller than Howard by several inches. She would attempt to place her ice cold hands against both of Howard's cheeks. "Sister Agnes, Auntie Mathilda, come look at this boy," she let out a cackle. "He is extraordinary!" She exclaimed. Long, slender fingers would attempt to cradle Howard's jaw, as if assessing a stallion at auction.
Erin would back away from Howard, let the 'ladies' have their way with him. Her arms crossed over her chest as she impatiently watched Howard become the center of their attention. These ladies were odd, their features were not like this. She knew them as crusted and crippled women with bent over carriage, flesh covered with festering boils. Hair like straw and green, crooked teeth. There was something wrong. Panic should be gripping the teen but she could feel nothing but she knew that there was something off. She had no affection for the Howard White, the brute who was better with his fists than his head. he was a berserker who would be hardly remembered for his endurance and brawn, most certainly not his wit.
But perhaps Erin had a shred of a soul. "They don't always look like this," Erin announced with her arms crossed over her chest.
A laughter would erupt from one, echoed by the others. "Tell me what drives you, serves as your adversary?"
"What do you want?
"Oh, we all know what any boy like him would want?"
"Make him say it."
"Pray it"
"Betray it."
"Uh," Erin peeled herself from the wall. "Howard..." She was not much for sentimental statements. "I changed my mind, they are being extra-weird."
One of the three women would simply snap her fingers. "Payment is the cure. A brutal fate you wish to endure."
"It burns... It burns... YoU'rE NoSe AnD tHrOaT. aNd ThIs PaIn Be YoUr AnTiDoTe. ThEiR sOuL a TrAiTor. To ThIs MaSoChIsT dO wE cAtEr."
One of the three women would pull something, it looked like a spider. A large spider about the size of her fist. She would toss the wiggling, writhing creature into the soupy mix. With a plunk followed by a simple chant by all three.
Rings, in the spirit of a spell,
Upon thy emptiness- a knell.
That strik'st a stillness into hell.
Cry til thrice you heard the bell.
It was a curse. The already foul air became imposing. Like a choking cloud. Erin has just become an irrelevant. What Howard did not know was that Howard was the price that Erin had paid for the one thing she coveted above all else -- a cure for her inhuman condition. Like many things: she should be careful what she wished for. It was like a searing hot dagger through her eye. This pain in her head. This sense of panic that stole her breath. This rumbling wrath that left her trembling. This maddening glee. She was feeling something, this agony. This bliss. This flood of intention and hate.
Erin would be too busy staring off into the space in front of her, eyes glazed over. She was not even screaming. She was utterly overwhelmed by this flood. This broken curse being also her bane. Howard was on his own, not that she would have tried to help him anyways.
It was time for a quality chat, just a few lovely ladies.
Just a trick of the lighting they said...
29 May 2019, 04:22
The Unstoppable Force Vs the Immovable Object
“Crones?”
Howard asked as he followed her around the corner. Whatever curiosity he had was instantly wiped from his mind as the warm putrid air hit his face. His free arm would rise to his face, attempting to cover his mouth and nose with the sleeve of his wand. The fumes stung his eyes and throat causing them to water as he coughed and gagged. What he could see through blurry vision was quite unsettling. Clouds of mist that filled the room poured from a large cauldron. Three human like figures lurked within smoke. “What the fuck is this Erin?!” He called out between coughs, his voice muffled as he spoke through the fabric of his robe.
“I am here. I brought the boy.” She called out to the mysterious figures.
Three voices would answer as the trio stepped out of the shadowy mist. Howard took a step back as he took in the site before him. Three females approached, his eyes widened, his hand flicking the wand between them. They looked odd. Thier limbs were too long and thier proportions skewed. The clothing they wore reminded him of pictures from the past. As a boy prone to action, one might expect him to immediately attack, but thier sudden presence had stunning effect. Two of them would break off, approaching quicker than he would have expected. Howard took another step back, but his back made contact with the wall as it impeded his escape. He shook his head from side to side as thier long, ice cold fingers caressed his face, his arms would flail about as he attempted to push thier hands away. “D-Don’t touch me.”
Howard’s eyes continued to scan the room as the trio scurried about, talking to each other in between inhuman cackles. Erin had simply stepped back, her arms crossed, her expression one of impatience. “They don’t always look like this.” The statement would bring another round of wicked laughter. “What?!” Howard called back in confusion. His eyes would be torn back to the trio as they called out in rhyme. “Uh, Howard...I changed my mind, they are being extra weird.” With a snap of her finger, one would call out to her, temporarily drawing thier attention away from Howard.
Again, the trio would speak, a bizarre mixture of chant and rhyme. Howard’s eyes shot onwards one that was pulling something from her garb. He breathed deeply as she drew a large spider, casually dropping it into the cauldron. The mixture hissed and bubbled, the clouds of mist growing thicker as the ingredient was added. Howard pawed at the wall, attempting to find the door in which they came. He could barely see and was thrown into a fit of coughing as the mist filled his lungs. Squinting he would see Erin, her arms had gone slack at her side. The once bored expression had turned dull, her eyes glazed over as she stared at nothing. “Erin!” His call was futile. The three beings would move closer to him. One would expect to feel terror, and that was partially true. Howard was experiencing something of nightmares, however, he was also surrounded by powerful magic. It would stoke the darker parts of his mind. “S-she.” He breathed deeply to calm his nerves. “She is no friend of mine. Whatever you’ve done to her is of no concern to me.” He paused to attempt to judge thier reaction. “I don’t know why she brought me here.”
Howard asked as he followed her around the corner. Whatever curiosity he had was instantly wiped from his mind as the warm putrid air hit his face. His free arm would rise to his face, attempting to cover his mouth and nose with the sleeve of his wand. The fumes stung his eyes and throat causing them to water as he coughed and gagged. What he could see through blurry vision was quite unsettling. Clouds of mist that filled the room poured from a large cauldron. Three human like figures lurked within smoke. “What the fuck is this Erin?!” He called out between coughs, his voice muffled as he spoke through the fabric of his robe.
“I am here. I brought the boy.” She called out to the mysterious figures.
Three voices would answer as the trio stepped out of the shadowy mist. Howard took a step back as he took in the site before him. Three females approached, his eyes widened, his hand flicking the wand between them. They looked odd. Thier limbs were too long and thier proportions skewed. The clothing they wore reminded him of pictures from the past. As a boy prone to action, one might expect him to immediately attack, but thier sudden presence had stunning effect. Two of them would break off, approaching quicker than he would have expected. Howard took another step back, but his back made contact with the wall as it impeded his escape. He shook his head from side to side as thier long, ice cold fingers caressed his face, his arms would flail about as he attempted to push thier hands away. “D-Don’t touch me.”
Howard’s eyes continued to scan the room as the trio scurried about, talking to each other in between inhuman cackles. Erin had simply stepped back, her arms crossed, her expression one of impatience. “They don’t always look like this.” The statement would bring another round of wicked laughter. “What?!” Howard called back in confusion. His eyes would be torn back to the trio as they called out in rhyme. “Uh, Howard...I changed my mind, they are being extra weird.” With a snap of her finger, one would call out to her, temporarily drawing thier attention away from Howard.
Again, the trio would speak, a bizarre mixture of chant and rhyme. Howard’s eyes shot onwards one that was pulling something from her garb. He breathed deeply as she drew a large spider, casually dropping it into the cauldron. The mixture hissed and bubbled, the clouds of mist growing thicker as the ingredient was added. Howard pawed at the wall, attempting to find the door in which they came. He could barely see and was thrown into a fit of coughing as the mist filled his lungs. Squinting he would see Erin, her arms had gone slack at her side. The once bored expression had turned dull, her eyes glazed over as she stared at nothing. “Erin!” His call was futile. The three beings would move closer to him. One would expect to feel terror, and that was partially true. Howard was experiencing something of nightmares, however, he was also surrounded by powerful magic. It would stoke the darker parts of his mind. “S-she.” He breathed deeply to calm his nerves. “She is no friend of mine. Whatever you’ve done to her is of no concern to me.” He paused to attempt to judge thier reaction. “I don’t know why she brought me here.”
9 Jun 2019, 00:03
The Unstoppable Force Vs the Immovable Object
“Crones?”
Erin was a lot of things but a liar was not one of the things she was on this day. When Howard questioned her she looked at him blankly as if to say -- yes and... The rancid stench of the terrible brew was something Erin had learned to ignore. It was such a strong stink she could taste it, it tasted like wilted cabbage and vinegar.
“What the fuck is this Erin?!”
There was a tone of accusation between those coughs. Erin was breathing shallow herself, with a regrettable gulp of air she would reply to him simply. "I am doing you another favor," she announced. To Erin there was this endless transaction between them, she was giving-giving-giving and Howard just seemed to take-take-take. From Erin's perspective she had liberated Howard, saved him. Not that Howard was thankful for the gifts she had endowed him, the ungrateful bastard.
There was a deal between Erin and the crones, the sort of deal that was too good to decline. They had offered the girl a cure for her 'affliction' -- well, temporary respite. It was felicity, the terror and the anger, the fear and the rage. Bliss for one that had nothing, even something terrible was batter than the emptiness she had grown accustomed to. Little did Erin realize that it was like any pusher, give a taste and they will come back for more. Little did Erin realize that the point of 'relieving' her was to spread their corruption, the dark seeds of malice that hags such as these three were compelled to spread. Yet little did the hags know, Erin would have done this without the trickery or duplicity. The ability to get something, to feel anything was enough of a reason for her to cause chaos. There was no need for instruction, not that she had ever been told much. Erin had a natural penchant for being troublesome, yet the girl had her limits. This could be evidenced by the library incident where she chose to knock Howard and Thomas both out of harm's way rather than try to save herself.
This would be the second time she would do something for the sake of another.
The hags did not scare her. They should have, it would have made sense. Erin was just incapable of doing so. It left her at a deficit, fear was that sense that warned someone that something was wrong. It would call her to action, tell her to fight or to flee and give her the endurance to do so. She did not have this. She envied the power that Howard had passively, coveted his sentiments and if she could she would hate him for it.
It was Howard's fear regarding the shadowy outline, the aberrant situation that called Erin to action. The scene was familiar, nothing to fear. The crones were odd, hideous but incredibly wise and powerful. When they asked her to bring the endless spring of rage before them to sate their curiosity in exchange for a means by which she could be truly free she accepted without question. She was not worried for Howard's sake, the crones were nothing but 'wise' if not a bit odd in her opinion. While she found herself consistently at odds with White, she was quite fond of him even if it was an affection more akin to a cat caring for their human because they have mastered the use of a can opener. She wanted to hurt Howard, but she did not want him dead and she would be damned if she was going to let someone else have her plaything.
What emerged through the veil of choking smoke was not the wrinkled and twisted, monstrous forms she had some to know. It was something aesthetically appealing, younger, smoother. She found pretty packages odd, disconcerting and above all else deceitful, especially when she knew their true form. Why? Why change? It was not as if those old women would want to seduce a boy like a sixth their age. It was not as if Howard was the type to let his guard down for a pretty face.
Lovely things do put people at ease tho. There is something about smooth flesh free of blisters and a sallowness that suggests health and vitality. Clean clothes suggest a fastidious nature. A fit form, someone who is not lazy.
Why would anyone want to manipulate Howard? Erin did not know nor did she care, she had a bit of a soul left in her. She called out to him, she started to try to warn him. However she was cut short by the coven's spell.
Who said respite was only for the wicked? Erin was stopped in her tracks, mouth agape and eyes glazed over. Yes, there might have been a thread of saliva escaping the corner of her mouth. She was there only in body, her mind was elsewhere.
Meanwhile the ladies were having their way with young Howard. The trio were fawning over him as if he was a cute dog in a park. "A bit too pretty," one of them complained. He was an oddity, a curiosity, a bauble to play with to their wicked delight.
"Take pity, it is only skin deep dear sister... only skin deep..." another claimed. Calmer than the others, but just as unsettling. As they breached the Hufflepuff's personal space Howard would learn that the illusion was only visual, Howard could smell something rancid, something rotted.
"Look at his eyes, demonize. HaHa! Demon eyes!" She had made a joke it would seem, a creepy, unsettling one. Was it really a joke? Howard had been falling for some time, partly due to Erin of course, she gave him the push he needed but this dark, terrible part of his nature was always there. They could see it in him it would seem, that wicked, spiteful soul trapped in the form of a boy. That was what hags did -- they reached into the hearts and minds of others, sought the worst parts of them and shattered what remained. They were personifications of all that was vile and immoral, corrupting not just the people but the environment as well. Like a plague or a festering infection.
That same strange woman, still fixated on his eyes. "To pluck them... just one..." If Howard tried to run, break away from the women he would find a wall to his back and no door. Where there was once a passage, there was a wall of solid stone. If he pushed back, his hand would press against something wet and squishy, like sweaty rolls of human fat covered in a layer of oily cloth. The women did not feel anything like they looked. They would be unfussed by his resistance, finding only humor in his futile efforts.
"A spell that cannot be undone," the women with darker hair pushed her way past the other two and brought her long fingernails threateningly close to his eye.
"It's mine! Let ME malign!" The one to the right hissed.
Bickering hags. This being Howard's only chance to run, but to where? The door was sealed, through the smoke and past the boiling cauldron was a place that was unknown and to traverse to such uncharted spaces he would have to get past them. All three of them. A hopeless effort. But perhaps one Howard would still try if his survival instinct was strong enough.
"With haste this magic has just begun." The blonde would declare, obviously the matriarch or the leader. There was no wand in her hand, in any of their hands yet these were spells, rhymes, incantations, something of the sort. They just had to be!
One of the women, the one still with dark hair would lean forward and sniff Howard. There was this lingering, almost defiled sense felt just from their proximity as she invaded his space. "Oh mother, he smells... like rage... It hold his heart in a cage..." Her fingers away from his eye, Howard would be untouched unless he first touched them but still intensely feel the need to take a long, scalding bath. "And fear, a bearing far too austere... too dark to depart..." She would sniff him again, the air around him hot and foul. "Tell me boy the intentions of your heart?"
Erin was a lot of things but a liar was not one of the things she was on this day. When Howard questioned her she looked at him blankly as if to say -- yes and... The rancid stench of the terrible brew was something Erin had learned to ignore. It was such a strong stink she could taste it, it tasted like wilted cabbage and vinegar.
“What the fuck is this Erin?!”
There was a tone of accusation between those coughs. Erin was breathing shallow herself, with a regrettable gulp of air she would reply to him simply. "I am doing you another favor," she announced. To Erin there was this endless transaction between them, she was giving-giving-giving and Howard just seemed to take-take-take. From Erin's perspective she had liberated Howard, saved him. Not that Howard was thankful for the gifts she had endowed him, the ungrateful bastard.
There was a deal between Erin and the crones, the sort of deal that was too good to decline. They had offered the girl a cure for her 'affliction' -- well, temporary respite. It was felicity, the terror and the anger, the fear and the rage. Bliss for one that had nothing, even something terrible was batter than the emptiness she had grown accustomed to. Little did Erin realize that it was like any pusher, give a taste and they will come back for more. Little did Erin realize that the point of 'relieving' her was to spread their corruption, the dark seeds of malice that hags such as these three were compelled to spread. Yet little did the hags know, Erin would have done this without the trickery or duplicity. The ability to get something, to feel anything was enough of a reason for her to cause chaos. There was no need for instruction, not that she had ever been told much. Erin had a natural penchant for being troublesome, yet the girl had her limits. This could be evidenced by the library incident where she chose to knock Howard and Thomas both out of harm's way rather than try to save herself.
This would be the second time she would do something for the sake of another.
The hags did not scare her. They should have, it would have made sense. Erin was just incapable of doing so. It left her at a deficit, fear was that sense that warned someone that something was wrong. It would call her to action, tell her to fight or to flee and give her the endurance to do so. She did not have this. She envied the power that Howard had passively, coveted his sentiments and if she could she would hate him for it.
It was Howard's fear regarding the shadowy outline, the aberrant situation that called Erin to action. The scene was familiar, nothing to fear. The crones were odd, hideous but incredibly wise and powerful. When they asked her to bring the endless spring of rage before them to sate their curiosity in exchange for a means by which she could be truly free she accepted without question. She was not worried for Howard's sake, the crones were nothing but 'wise' if not a bit odd in her opinion. While she found herself consistently at odds with White, she was quite fond of him even if it was an affection more akin to a cat caring for their human because they have mastered the use of a can opener. She wanted to hurt Howard, but she did not want him dead and she would be damned if she was going to let someone else have her plaything.
What emerged through the veil of choking smoke was not the wrinkled and twisted, monstrous forms she had some to know. It was something aesthetically appealing, younger, smoother. She found pretty packages odd, disconcerting and above all else deceitful, especially when she knew their true form. Why? Why change? It was not as if those old women would want to seduce a boy like a sixth their age. It was not as if Howard was the type to let his guard down for a pretty face.
Lovely things do put people at ease tho. There is something about smooth flesh free of blisters and a sallowness that suggests health and vitality. Clean clothes suggest a fastidious nature. A fit form, someone who is not lazy.
Why would anyone want to manipulate Howard? Erin did not know nor did she care, she had a bit of a soul left in her. She called out to him, she started to try to warn him. However she was cut short by the coven's spell.
Who said respite was only for the wicked? Erin was stopped in her tracks, mouth agape and eyes glazed over. Yes, there might have been a thread of saliva escaping the corner of her mouth. She was there only in body, her mind was elsewhere.
A nightmare. It was the evening, she was sitting by the crackling hearth and her mother was chopping vegetables in the next room. The repetitive noise almost soothing. Geoffrey was writing something in a book, a smirk on his face told her that it was some devilish deed. Her father was reading a book, the occasional flap of a page was the only sound he made. There was nothing here, just vision and sound and noise and touch but there was nothing there. This was normal, this depersonalized, derealized universe where she felt as if she was wearing someone else's skin. As if she was merely an avatar.
This was not the nightmare, no not yet. This was her life. Mundane but not terrible, at least not terrible for someone that could be content with what they had. She always wanted more.
The nightmare was when the color started to fade. When everything became a shade of grey, even her own hands and her blouse. She would say something, she would feel her lips and tongue move but no sound would come out, just wind. There was no sound. She would try to rise, her hand planted on the floor. What floor? She felt nothing beneath her hand but could see clearly that her hand was planted there on that soft rug. As she looked at the grey, almost formless floor it would fade away leaving only emptiness below but she did not fall. There was nothing beneath, or above. She would look around her, her mother and her father and her brother seemed indifferent to the process as she watched them fade. Looking down at her knees she would see it in her too -- how she was diminishing. It did not hurt, she almost wished it had, then there would be something. Something to let her know that she was still alive.
Then there was nothing, just awareness -- consciousness in this void. Time passed but she did not know how fast or slow, there was no metric or measure.
Meanwhile the ladies were having their way with young Howard. The trio were fawning over him as if he was a cute dog in a park. "A bit too pretty," one of them complained. He was an oddity, a curiosity, a bauble to play with to their wicked delight.
"Take pity, it is only skin deep dear sister... only skin deep..." another claimed. Calmer than the others, but just as unsettling. As they breached the Hufflepuff's personal space Howard would learn that the illusion was only visual, Howard could smell something rancid, something rotted.
"Look at his eyes, demonize. HaHa! Demon eyes!" She had made a joke it would seem, a creepy, unsettling one. Was it really a joke? Howard had been falling for some time, partly due to Erin of course, she gave him the push he needed but this dark, terrible part of his nature was always there. They could see it in him it would seem, that wicked, spiteful soul trapped in the form of a boy. That was what hags did -- they reached into the hearts and minds of others, sought the worst parts of them and shattered what remained. They were personifications of all that was vile and immoral, corrupting not just the people but the environment as well. Like a plague or a festering infection.
That same strange woman, still fixated on his eyes. "To pluck them... just one..." If Howard tried to run, break away from the women he would find a wall to his back and no door. Where there was once a passage, there was a wall of solid stone. If he pushed back, his hand would press against something wet and squishy, like sweaty rolls of human fat covered in a layer of oily cloth. The women did not feel anything like they looked. They would be unfussed by his resistance, finding only humor in his futile efforts.
"A spell that cannot be undone," the women with darker hair pushed her way past the other two and brought her long fingernails threateningly close to his eye.
"It's mine! Let ME malign!" The one to the right hissed.
Bickering hags. This being Howard's only chance to run, but to where? The door was sealed, through the smoke and past the boiling cauldron was a place that was unknown and to traverse to such uncharted spaces he would have to get past them. All three of them. A hopeless effort. But perhaps one Howard would still try if his survival instinct was strong enough.
"With haste this magic has just begun." The blonde would declare, obviously the matriarch or the leader. There was no wand in her hand, in any of their hands yet these were spells, rhymes, incantations, something of the sort. They just had to be!
One of the women, the one still with dark hair would lean forward and sniff Howard. There was this lingering, almost defiled sense felt just from their proximity as she invaded his space. "Oh mother, he smells... like rage... It hold his heart in a cage..." Her fingers away from his eye, Howard would be untouched unless he first touched them but still intensely feel the need to take a long, scalding bath. "And fear, a bearing far too austere... too dark to depart..." She would sniff him again, the air around him hot and foul. "Tell me boy the intentions of your heart?"
Just a trick of the lighting they said...
15 Jun 2019, 04:43
The Unstoppable Force Vs the Immovable Object
OOC: Apologies for the delay.
Howard’s eyes tore away from Erin, the young Slytherin left in a stupor from the dark energies at play. He looked straight ahead, the clouds of mist shifted and swirled as three dark figures approached him. His free hand met stone as he shimmied along the wall, feet shuffling as he searched for the door in which they came. It would be futile. Howard called out to the mysterious woman, his fear causing him to denounce Erin in an attempt to please them. It was true he held no love for the girl, but it was a lie to say he felt nothing for her. However sick and twisted the relationship was between the two, it still meant something. But fear is a funny thing. When pushed far enough, it can break the strongest of souls.
The trio surrounded him and with them came the smell of rot and decay. It filled his nostrils, burning his throat with every breath. Howard coughed and gagged, his eyes began to stream and his nose ran. The mist was hot. An oppressive cloud that swirled all around him. It was suffocating. Sweat poured from his brow as He gasped for air, his knees became weak. The uneven stone dug into the boy’s back as he pressed hard against it, the only thing that prevented him from falling.
They began to call out as they swarmed around him. They spoke of his looks and his eyes as long fingers crept towards his face. Their voices became mixed up and jumbled as his senses faded further. With thier proximity came a sinking feeling in his gut, as if all things had suddenly gone wrong and backwards. The feeling grew, corrupting the rest of his body. His vision began to crash as if staring down a tunnel. Only the tip of a long, skinny finger would be visible. “Don’t touch me!” Howard yelled out as his hand clumsily thrusted forward. It would push past the outstretched arm and make contact with what may have been a face. “Guhh! Let me go!” His hands met what felt like squishy, wet leather. It left his fingers slimy. A face that didn’t match the texture came close, it sniffed the air around him.
“Tell me boy the intentions of your heart?”
The fear, nausea and panic that gripped him lifted slightly with the words. Whatever energies they spun seemed to pause for his answer. Howard breathed deeply as his senses focused once more. The intentions of his heart? He felt an overwhelming desire to answer, but the question was fully loaded. Howard felt far different than his peers. Born to Muggles, he was cast out of his world and sent to a new. Rejected for being born a certain way. This new world would take him, but would they accept him? No. They would expect him to change to thier needs, thier customs, thier ways of thought. What right did they have? Howard was a boy straddling the fence between two existences, his feet having no ground on which to stand. What did Howard desire? A place in the world of his making...and the power in which to do so.
He steadied his legs and stood up straight. With a deep breath he answered. “I seek the power to walk my own path. Even if I have to carve it out of this world myself.”
Howard’s eyes tore away from Erin, the young Slytherin left in a stupor from the dark energies at play. He looked straight ahead, the clouds of mist shifted and swirled as three dark figures approached him. His free hand met stone as he shimmied along the wall, feet shuffling as he searched for the door in which they came. It would be futile. Howard called out to the mysterious woman, his fear causing him to denounce Erin in an attempt to please them. It was true he held no love for the girl, but it was a lie to say he felt nothing for her. However sick and twisted the relationship was between the two, it still meant something. But fear is a funny thing. When pushed far enough, it can break the strongest of souls.
The trio surrounded him and with them came the smell of rot and decay. It filled his nostrils, burning his throat with every breath. Howard coughed and gagged, his eyes began to stream and his nose ran. The mist was hot. An oppressive cloud that swirled all around him. It was suffocating. Sweat poured from his brow as He gasped for air, his knees became weak. The uneven stone dug into the boy’s back as he pressed hard against it, the only thing that prevented him from falling.
They began to call out as they swarmed around him. They spoke of his looks and his eyes as long fingers crept towards his face. Their voices became mixed up and jumbled as his senses faded further. With thier proximity came a sinking feeling in his gut, as if all things had suddenly gone wrong and backwards. The feeling grew, corrupting the rest of his body. His vision began to crash as if staring down a tunnel. Only the tip of a long, skinny finger would be visible. “Don’t touch me!” Howard yelled out as his hand clumsily thrusted forward. It would push past the outstretched arm and make contact with what may have been a face. “Guhh! Let me go!” His hands met what felt like squishy, wet leather. It left his fingers slimy. A face that didn’t match the texture came close, it sniffed the air around him.
“Tell me boy the intentions of your heart?”
The fear, nausea and panic that gripped him lifted slightly with the words. Whatever energies they spun seemed to pause for his answer. Howard breathed deeply as his senses focused once more. The intentions of his heart? He felt an overwhelming desire to answer, but the question was fully loaded. Howard felt far different than his peers. Born to Muggles, he was cast out of his world and sent to a new. Rejected for being born a certain way. This new world would take him, but would they accept him? No. They would expect him to change to thier needs, thier customs, thier ways of thought. What right did they have? Howard was a boy straddling the fence between two existences, his feet having no ground on which to stand. What did Howard desire? A place in the world of his making...and the power in which to do so.
He steadied his legs and stood up straight. With a deep breath he answered. “I seek the power to walk my own path. Even if I have to carve it out of this world myself.”