June 1st - June 19th
It's almost summer! The last few weeks of school have come, and students will need to study hard for their final exams! Don't let up yet, or your grades won't be what you want them to. Of course, the weather is almost perfect and pristine, in attempts to lure students away from their studies.
We Are the Dead [ 2/1/09 ; ISO: DEs, Hostages ]
They were inside a cabin -- an old, rotting, one-roomed cabin, dank, dark, and utterly dead. One would have expected the place to be teeming with bugs, from spiders to termites to centipedes, but there were none. Not a single creature crawled across the wooden floor of the cabin, not a single rat squeaked. The only sound that could be heard was the breating of those who were within the cabin and the only thing on the floor were three girls. But nature seemed to have neglected this place, leaving it to quietly rot without disturbance. One would have thought the place were collapsing, falling into itself, and upon walking in, one would have expected it to simply cave in. But the cabin was surprisingly sturdy, enforced with both nail and magic. It would have been nearly impossible for one to escape. There were no openings save the door, which locked from the outside and there wasn't even a window to allow the chilling air from the outside to come in. There was simply nothingness.
The three girls were bound, their hands and legs tied together and they were blindfolded. Thick black cloths covered their eyes and they were left in the center of the cabin, immobile and blind. Since their capture, they had been left like that for days, perhaps even weeks. It was impossible to tell. It seemed the sun never rose here, in the cabin, and there were no birds, no animals stirring to make one aware of the fact there was anything around them. All the girls had had was each other. Of course, they were never alone. There had always been someone there, watching them, making sure they didn't do anything or try anything. The guard would give them water on occasion, perhaps even feed them, if they were lucky. The girls would be kept awake for long periods of time, and when they were allowed to sleep, it was only for a short while and then they would be woken again. And all through that time, someone would come in and whisper and sneer sinister things into their ears. They would laugh and prod them until the girls whimpered, promising them pain and torture.
But of course, those promises were never carried out. Tomorrow, the voices would say. Tomorrow. Then, tomorrow would come and still nothing. Promises of pain to their friends. Promises of anguish to their family. Promises of death to those closest to them. Pain, anguish, death. But none of those promises were ever kept, though the girls had no way of knowing. They knew nothing but fear and darkness.
"Wake them," a low, stern voice ordered. The girls would never be able to pinpoint that voice, nor any other they heard. Unbeknownst to them, a spell had been cast on them so as they would never remember what the voices they heard sounded like. The words, they would remember, but not the voices. The masked Death Eater did as he was instructed, forcefully waking the girls. Panthera watched them as he stood before their blind eyes, his own feline orbs watching them indifferently. Other Death Eaters began quietly entering the cabin, standing against the walls. All wore their black clocks and their skeletal masks, concealing their identities. Even Pan had his mask on and his hood up as he stood, strong and tall before the captives. As they woke, he slowly began circling them, his shoes hardly making any sound as they hit the floor. It was as though his feet were padded, just as the paws of his animagus form were padded, designed to keep his footfalls silent so his prey would never hear him coming.
"'War is peace. Freedom is slavery. Ignorance is strength,'" he said softly as he continued to circle them. "You know where that's from? A muggle book, written by a man named George Orwell. He wrote of a world where everyone is ignorant, where everyone's mind is poisoned by the omnipotent Party, which feeds them lies and forces them to think in a certain manner, not unlike the world you live in now." Pan stopped walking and stood before the girls again, his eyes blank and completely neutral, betraying no hint of emotion. Nothing. "In the story, a man's mind is altered, his way of thinking changed until he believes everything he is told. Until he accepts everything.
"'How does one man assert his power over another, Winston?' Winston thought. 'By making him suffer,' he said. 'Exactly. By making him suffer. Obedience is not enough. Unless he is suffering, how can you be sure that he is obeying your will and not his own? Power is in inflicting pain and humiliation. Power is in tearing human minds to pieces and putting them together again in new shapes of your own choosing,'" he quoted with ease. There was a brief pause. With a flick of his wrist, the blindfolds disappeared and for the first time in weeks, the girls could see. Dark forms with skeletal faces stared back at them, unfriendly and sinister. "As you have already deduced, we are the Death Eaters. We serve our lord and our mission is to reshape this world into what it should be." Another pause. A small, chilling smirk passed across Pan's face. "Now, I suppose it is only polite I let you introduce yourselves."
Re: We Are the Dead [ 2/1/09 ; ISO: DEs, Hostages ]
Having three hostages gave Camellia something to do. Being a museum curator definitely had its boring moments, and the older woman loved apparating into the abandoned structure to find the three girls. Whimpering wretches. Torturing them made her day a little brighter. She knew their parents, she knew everything about them. Her networks were stretched out like hungry vines, spreading across the entire wizarding community. Of course, everyone knew of the dark affiliations the Hymnwoods hold, though the only reason she was still out of Azkaban was merely for the fact that there was never sufficient evidence to lock her up. A slippery weasel of pure descent, worthy of Slytherin's name.
That day's entertainment hour would prove to be much more fun-filled, having Panthera lead the festivities. Leaning against a wall, Camellia watched silently as Pan spoke to the captives about Orwell, an author she knew well. He had been quite brilliant for a Muggle, with a sociological eye that could rival that of Karl Marx, another relatively brilliant Muggle. Luckily, they hadn't been brilliant enough to make guesses about the magical world.
Two of the girls were quite young, the other less so. Camellia couldn't help but be amazed at how they were doing. At this point, she was expecting to see dispirited messes instead of human beings. Sure, they looked terrified, but that simply indicated that the Death Eaters were doing their job.
Camellia waited in the shadows for her turn, wondering if it would come at all. She was older and more experienced, being of the same generation as Bellatrix, yet somehow the new ranks wanted fresher blood and cast the veterans on the sidelines.
sophielynette
Meghan Spire
1st Year Ravenclaw Where's the proof?
Jade Howe
4th Year Gryffindor
Reserve Beater And Howe!
Re: We Are the Dead [ 2/1/09 ; ISO: DEs, Hostages ]
Meghan had never been prone to the fears and insecurities of most children. She never worried about monsters in the closet or under the bed. She had never had a phobia of dogs or snakes or spiders. Even after learning about the magical world, and discovering that dragons and vampires and all sorts of dangerous beasts actually existance, the knowledge didn't frighten her. She was a scientific girl, and fears had no purpose in her life.
Of course, that was before she was kidnapped. Everybody has a threshold, a point in which reason is thrown out the window and emotions take precedence. Meghan had crossed that line a while back. They had been manhandled, taunted, partially starved. She had cried at first, stifling her sobs for fear of reprimandation. She had made no attempts to speak to her captors or her fellow captives. In any other situation she might have been the strong, rational one, but not now. She was too terrified. She was too exhausted.
Still, logic hadn't completely failed her. She had managed to keep from going insane by trying to derive some sense of time. She noted when and how often the guards changed shifts, the pattern in which they were offered water, and less often, food. By focusing on the schedule, she was able to block out her hunger, her fear, her exhaustion, the numbness of her limbs from being bound for so long. When they whispered threats she would block out their voices by reviewing calculations and formulas, even reviewing her times tables. Logic kept her sane.
"Wake them,"
She'd been awake even before the voice spoke. Meghan realized she should take advantage of what little nap opportunities they received, but her sleep was always fretful, her dreams haunted by flames and screams and dead rats. How could you sleep when any moment those horrible threats might come true?
Somebody was saying something, quoting from a book. Meghan tuned him out and began reviewing the five times table. Five times two was ten, five times three was fifteen, five times four was twenty..
Suddenly everything was very bright. The blindfold that had become a part of her was gone. Meghan abandoned math and squinted into the glare. Even without the blindfold she could barely see. Without her glasses, the world was just a bunch of blotches, but she could make out the forms of a group of sinister figures, and the sight chilled her.
"As you have already deduced, we are the Death Eaters. We serve our lord and our mission is to reshape this world into what it should be."
Death Eaters? What was he talking about? Meghan hadn't been part of the magical community long enough to know about Death Eaters and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Before Christmas they had still been studying pre-history in History of Magic. Perhaps it was a kindness; knowing about the Death Eaters and their loathing for muggles would have only terrified her more.
"Now, I suppose it is only polite I let you introduce yourselves."
He had kidnapped them, and was speaking of politeness? Meghan was amazed. More importantly, she was speechless. She didn't think she'd even be capable of speaking, having been silent for so long. The question, however, was whether or not remaining silent would invite punishment.
Meghan coughed. She rasped. Her throat was dry and yet phlegmy at the same time. She coughed again, shook her head, then gasped.
"Water.. please.."
Lyssa Kerr
Bridget "Brid" Campbell
1st Year Ravenclaw Fly on the Wall
Adrienne Denton
4th Year Ravenclaw
Chaser It's all in the Details...
Jordyn Huntington
4th Year Gryffindor Eh?
Sera Tilton
7th Year Gryffindor
Prefect/Chaser Overachiever
Re: We Are the Dead [ 2/1/09 ; ISO: DEs, Hostages ]
Terror: Intense, overpowering fear.
There was absolutely no other way to describe how Adrienne Denton felt, how she had been feeling for the past Merlin-knew-how-long. After waking up - or being revived, she couldn't remember which - she had been unable to tell where she was, what the time of day was, if she was surrounded by Death Eaters or completely alone in the room except for the other two girls. The blindfold completely cut off her sight from the rest of the world, which was obviously the intent, and made it impossible for her to judge how long she'd been sitting in this position. She couldn't hear anything, except the occasional harsh breathing or sniffle of one of the other girls (or was it herself?), and the movement of another within the room. Whoever was watching them changed, from time to time, but she couldn't tell if there was a regular pattern to the rotation or not. She didn't think there were any windows in the room they were in, as there was no other explanation for the complete and absolute silence.
Her arms and legs were cramped. The way they were tied was incredibly uncomfortable, though she had the feeling that their captors didn't care. Her head ached, from dehydration or starvation or both, and she was ready to pass out from fear. No, scratch that - she was past scared. She had become numb, had trained herself to stop listening to the harsh, mocking voices that spoke to her and the others every once and a while. She desperately wanted to believe that nothing was going to happen to her family, to her friends, to her. She'd found, though, that the only way to stop herself from believing what she was told was to ignore it completely, and even then, she was worried. What if they killed her mother? Hurt her father? They had kidnapped three Hogwart students, after all, and while she wasn't sure how old the other two were, she knew that they couldn't be older than she was. None of them were much more than children!
What kind of heartless people kept children in a constant state of terror?
As the minutes stretched into hours, and the hours into days, she felt herself drifting to sleep, so emotionally and physically exhuasted that she couldn't stop herself from doing anything else. She wasn't allowed to sleep long, and quickly realized that she needed to get as much sleep as she could if she wanted to keep sane. She didn't know what else to do. Reciting facts was another thing she did to keep her mind off of what was happening to her, and imagining that she was somewhere else, but neither of those worked completely. She'd been pushed past the breaking point, and no longer knew what to do with herself except become completely and utterly detached. Numb. She had drifted into that light sleep when someone roughly shook her, and she woke with a start, nearly falling over in her attempt to edge away from whoever was there.
"'War is peace. Freedom is slavery. Ignorance is strength,'"
She stiffened slightly, completely caught off guard by a new voice speaking. At least she thought it was a new voice; they all sounded the same, completely unrecognizable. He was quoting something, a book she hadn't ever read by a muggle author she'd never heard of. She wasn't a huge fan of muggle literature and therefore hadn't read many muggle books. Adrienne was more concerned with facts than she was with fiction, in any case. In this situation, she almost wished she had read the book, so that she could have taken this man's word for what he was saying. She didn't trust him, for reasons that were quite obvious, and wasn't sure she wanted to know the significance of his words. "Power is in tearing human minds to pieces and putting them together again in new shapes of your own choosing," - the thought was enough to make her shudder. That her mind, that any mind, could be so easily manipulated...
He made it sound easy, in any case.
She squinted as the blindfold suddenly disappeared, blinking rapidly as her eyes watered in their attempt to adjust to the light. Well, maybe it wasn't just the light, but she wasn't going to admit to crying until it became apparent that she really should have been crying. As if being kidnapped and tied up isn't a reason to cry, Adrienne? She snapped at herself. Just maintain some sort of dignity. They might be cruel and heartless, but that doesn't necessarily mean that you're going to die! If they wanted to kill off some students, they would have killed some students, instead of grabbing them and running. As twisted as it was, the fact that she'd been kidnapped was a bit reassuring. She could have been murdered outright.
Of course, once her vision returned, the panic did as well. Men and women, in masks, staring at them. She shrank back, taking several deep breaths to keep herself calm. Knowing that she had been kidnapped by Death Eaters was one thing, but to see herself surrounded by them? She was wizard born, she knew what Death Eaters were. She knew why they were feared, as well.
"As you have already deduced, we are the Death Eaters. We serve our lord and our mission is to reshape this world into what it should be."
She whimpered, softly. What it should be? What should it be like? She asked them silently, not brave enough to voice the questions, not defiant enough to even open her mouth. She hadn't been placed in Gryffindor for many reasons - the fact that she was not the bravest person on the planet was definitely one of them. She didn't like to think that she was a coward, but in this situation, she was willing to be branded as such. She shuddered again, trying not to let herself cry; surrounded by Death Eaters. It wasn't just their masks that were frightening, though they were doing the job well enough. Adrienne was a mess, and knew it.
"Now, I suppose it is only polite I let you introduce yourselves."
What? She blinked, confusion suddenly warring with the fear that had, up until that point, been the sole emotion on her face. With all that had happened, she had figured that they knew who they'd kidnapped - if they hadn't grabbed specific students, she thought they would have figured out who they were, at least. If they didn't know who they were, that meant her family, her friends, were safe. She didn't want to think that this man was toying with them; that he knew who they were, but simply wanted to make them feel as though they were safe, to an extent, from their threats.
Really, if she didn't lose her mind from something they did to her, she was going to think herself into insanity.
Beside her, one of the girls was coughing, like she'd tried to speak but couldn't. Adrienne hadn't yet gathered up enough courage to try, though she suspected that she had no voice; she hadn't spoken in so long, and her throat was so dry. She wasn't even willing to try. She shrank back, instead, hoping that her silence wouldn't be taken for defiance. It wasn't - it was terror.
Fyora Occulo
5th Year Hufflepuff
Chaser
Quidditch Queen
Ariadne Fortuna
Death Eater
Revenge is Sweet
Posts: 442
(2/10/06 4:25 pm) Reply
Re: We Are the Dead [ 2/1/09 ; ISO: DEs, Hostages ]
Ariadne entered the cabin and took her place along one of the walls. It was so dark that she was unable to identify the Death Eaters standing in the shadows to her left and right, but she could see the girls sitting in the centre of the room. It had been a couple of days since she had last been on guard in the cabin, but she had enjoyed it immensely; whispering threats into the girls' ears, prodding them with the tip of her wand, making sickening promises of what would happen to their families, their friends, themselves. She had spent the long hours of duty pacing the room in heeled boots that clicked menacingly with every step, just to heighten the atmosphere and increase the terror. Sure enough, they were just children. But in order for the Death Eaters to make their point, someone had had to suffer. And she didn’t much care who.
"'War is peace. Freedom is slavery. Ignorance is strength,'" Panthera began once the girls had been awakened. Ariadne smiled behind her hood. Muggles held no interest for her, but it seemed one or two of them had got something right. She continued to listen, nodding at certain sections, her eyes fixed steadily on the girls.
"Now, I suppose it is only polite I let you introduce yourselves."
The girls looked surprised and confused, at this command. Politeness? From the man who had imprisoned them for who knew how long and for who knew what purpose? But Ariadne continued to smile. She had spotted the smirk crossing Panthera's face, was sure he was playing games with them. She hoped dearly she would be given the opportunity to join in with the fun. After all, why invite the Death Eaters here en masse if not to help him deal with the captives?
"Water.. please.."
Ariadne gave a quiet, cold laugh. Power is in inflicting pain and humiliation. The humiliation was beginning. She just hoped the pain would follow soon after. Now that would be something for the girls to tell when they got back to school...
Re: We Are the Dead [ 2/1/09 ; ISO: DEs, Hostages ]
Pan couldn't deny that he got some sadistic pleasure out of instilling fears in these children. He usually allowed the other Death Eaters do the dirty work, for he was a businessman and oftentimes had other people do the work for him, but some things were best done by oneself. After all, this had to be done well and without any mistakes. And if he allowed some other Death Eater to take control of the task at hand, mistakes would be made and they could not afford mistakes. Panthera had made sure the Death Eaters realized the severeness of slipping up and using one of ther names or saying anything that could possible give away their identities. Pan, after all, had ever intention of releasing these children back to Hogwarts so they could crawl back, screaming about all that had been done to them, thus spreading the terror. The Death Eaters had been overlooked for too long and the Wizarding World needed to fear them again and what better way that to terrorize children and send them back?
A cold laugh escaped the man's lips as the girls looked at him, clearly confused. They certainly didn't expect the word "polite" come out of his mouth. He was the one who had organized this kidnapping and had told the Death Eaters to mentally torture them, after all. "No one wants to speak? Well, no matter. Asking was a mere formality. We, of course, know who you are." The chilling smile remained on his face as his cold eyes scanned their faces. "Meghan Spire, first year Ravenclaw, eleven years old. Muggleborn. Adrienne Denton, forth year Ravenclaw, fourteen years old. Father is Halfblooded, mother is Muggleborn. Angel White, first year Slytherin, eleven years old. Halfblood." Pan stated these facts like a robot, spilling them out as though he'd known the information all of his life. It was clear that the man was never one to slack off when he had a job to do. He made sure everything was perfect, and he was going to make sure this went perfectly. He wanted these girls to fear him. He wanted them to be terrified of him. He wanted them to think that, if he wanted to, he could kill them and everyone they knew.
And chances are, if he had the motivation, he could. Panthera Lupus was not one to be underestimated.
One of the girls coughed. "Water.. please.." she croaked. Pan's feline eyes turned her, not a drop of sympathy in those amber orbs. While some people might have felt a pang of guilt, Pan felt absolutely nothing toward these girls. They were nothing to him, simply pawns for him to use to reach his goal. They could be disposed of whenever necessary and he could bend them to his will in any way, shape, or form. Pan was skilled in interrogating people and had ways of getting information and ultimately breaking people's minds even without the use of magic. Of course, it was so much easier and cleanier with magic. But just as he said, Panthera could tear apart a mind and put it back together in any way he wanted to.
"You want water?" he asked simply, looking at her, no emotion showing in those eyes. "What do you offer in return for it? A life, perhaps? Of one of these two?" he nodded toward the two other girls. "Or maybe of one of your peers at school. Maybe you'd like to have someone else be sitting there in your stead. Give us a name, and we could easily have it arranged." A deathly calm smile. Pan was bluffing, of course. It wouldn't be at all simple for him to attain another hostage, even with the help of the Death Eater currently within the walls of Hogwarts. And he wasn't willing to kill anyone, not yet at least. But Panthera knew the human mind well. Despite the distortion of his own mind, he knew how the minds of other people worked and he knew that this girl would never trade her life for another's. She was too innocent, not yet corrupted by the selfishness and the evils of society. There would be no way she could make the decision to have someone else die instead of herself.
Re: We Are the Dead [ 2/1/09 ; ISO: DEs, Hostages ]
Of all of the Death Eaters, Pan had to be the most powerful and insightful. Cole admired him immensely, mostly because he had the power to hold the hopes and the fears of many in the palm of his hand. With a snap of his fingers, he could have destroyed countless lived. Not because of his own magical prowess, but because of the power he had over others. Pan was the reason that Cole had stuck with the new league of Death Eaters. Maleham was a joke, he was fairly sure of that much from his personal dealings with Pan and the upper Death Eater rings. It was really Pan that was running the show, but Cole didn't breathe a word of that to anyone. He didn’t speak to anyone because he wasn’t sure for a fact that Maleham was useless, and because he didn’t see the need in speaking to anyone. He was hardly friends with the Death Eaters, merely allies. Besides. If Maleham turned out to be more powerful and important than Cole suspected, he would be punished severely for his insolence. It was best just to leave things be and assume that Maleham was at the head of all of this. Secretly he felt that the Death Eaters would have more success spreading devastation if they got rid of the figure head they currently had in place. Maleham looked like a puppet for Pan, but Cole wasn't sure why Pan needed a puppet in the first place. He was far more commanding than Maleham was. He had an air of nobility and business about him. He got straight to the point, especially in situations like this.
Cole was currently leaning up against the wall, arms folded across his chest. It was not his place to speak now, and all he could do was listen to Pan as he spoke menacingly, but calmly, to the young Hogwarts Students. There was absolutely no mercy resting within Cole at this moment. Not a tinge of compassion or sorrow over the obvious fear they were causing the young girls. They couldn't be more than fourteen. Toddlers in the wizarding world. This would most likely be a more than scarring experience for the three of them, but that hardly mattered. They were barely a drop in the pool of what the Death Eaters had planned. Or rather, what Pan had planned. No one knew the entire plan aside from Pan himself. Cole suspected that Maleham might know a little, but that was hardly important. Pan held the real power. Cole could only dream of having power like that, and in fact, he often did. He would lay awake on sleepless nights, thinking about what life would be like to not have to answer to anyone but yourself. To hold the reigns and control everything, and everyone. Cole didn't mind doing grunt work or working for someone like Pan, but he would have given anything for power.
He supposed that that was why he had gotten so deeply involved in the Dark Arts when he was younger. He had an insatiable lust for power, and the Dark Arts were the only thing that could give it to him.
One of the pitiful creatures before the Death Eaters gasped for water, obviously parched and dehydrated. What did she expect? Honestly. Children these days didn't know their history. If they did, the girl wouldn't be foolish enough to request something as quenching and satisfying as water from the ring of Death Eaters that had lined the walls of the cabin. She obviously had no experience with the corruption and the evil that she was dealing with now. There was absolutely no way that she would be given water. Not if she didn't give them something in return. There was no such thing as generosity when it came to the Death Eaters. They only did things when they had something to gain. Cole supposed that that was why the majority of them had been in Slytherin during their Hogwarts days. They were ambitious to the point of murder. They didn't do anything if there was no reward for it.
"You want water?" Cole's eyes glimmered silently as Pan spoke. "What do you offer in return for it? A life, perhaps? Of one of these two?" he nodded toward the two other girls. "Or maybe of one of your peers at school. Maybe you'd like to have someone else be sitting there in your stead. Give us a name, and we could easily have it arranged."
Cole watched the girls cowering in terror as Pan spoke, his arms comfortably folded across his chest with his wand in one hand. He whirled the wand with ease, watching them silently. With every passing moment, they seemed to become more terrified. However, Cole couldn't help thinking that the girls weren't nearly as terrified as they should have been. Maybe he should just take the initiative and use the cruciatus curse on someone. He didn't feel he would be severely reprimanded for taking action against the girls instead of letting Pan run the whole show. He flipped his wand expertly between his fingers, remaining silent. But who should he hit? His eyes drifted curiously between the three, unable to make a decision. Perhaps he would just curse the next one who spoke...
sophielynette
Meghan Spire
1st Year Ravenclaw Where's the proof?
Jade Howe
4th Year Gryffindor
Reserve Beater And Howe!
Re: We Are the Dead [ 2/1/09 ; ISO: DEs, Hostages ]
For most children, if they are lucky, death is a vague concept. It is something long off and far away, avoidable so long as you remained in the here and now. Teenagers, even adults often disregard their own mortality-- other people, sure, but not them.
Meghan had experienced death only a year ago, at the demise of her elderly rats Watson and Crick. It had been devestating, yes, but expected. When you grew old, you died, and they had reached their time.
Everyone had their time, of course. Meghan just never imagined it would be so soon. There were so many things she still had to do. She had an entire life to live. She hadn't figured out the science behind any of magic's mysteries yet! Such potential, crushed for what? Why had they been dragged here anyway?
When nobody replied, the voice had rattled off their names, ages and parentage. Meghan paused to absorb the information for a moment--she hadn't realized who the other captive was, not that the name meant anything to her. Against the protests of her aching limbs, Meghan gave a full bodied shiver, wishing to be anyplace but here, wherever here was. Their tormenters knew who they were. Had they known even before the girls had been kidnapped, or did they find out after? What did it all mean? What was the purpose to all of this?
"You want water? What do you offer in return for it? A life, perhaps? Of one of these two? Or maybe of one of your peers at school. Maybe you'd like to have someone else be sitting there in your stead. Give us a name, and we could easily have it arranged."
Meghan's parched throat went even drier. How could he ask her to wish this on anyone? Though not the type to have close, intimate friends, Meghan was far from heartless. Nobody deserved such fear. Her blurry vision obscured even further by a welling of tears, Meghan gulped loudly and shook her head.
"No.. please.."
Erica Nightshade
Mark Sorelli
5th Year Hufflepuff
Prefect Picture Perfect
Erica Nightshade
7th Year Ravenclaw
Prefect/Chaser ... who, me?
Lincoln "Link" Rowley
1st Year Gryffindor
Seeker Consistently Inconsistent
Re: We Are the Dead [ 2/1/09 ; ISO: DEs, Hostages ]
Emily wasn’t sure if she could handle this. This was her first real experience with the Death Eaters, as she’d been accepted right after the attacks on the Hogwarts Express, and she couldn’t help but put herself in the position of the three girls she was watching.
Emily stood with her mast and robes on just like the other Death Eaters, but something about her was different; she was still young and not yet used to a life of harshness and cruelty. She was only eighteen years old, not even a year out of Hogwarts, and only seven years older than the youngest hostage, a first year. If the Death Eaters had done this a year earlier, then there was a good chance that she could’ve been one of the captives or one of the injured, opposed to one of the injurers or captors.
Watching the poor, wretched children tied up on the ground, Emily questioned her own decisions in life. This wasn’t like her, she had been desperate, and she had done something that she’d probably end up regretting later. Yet her decision was made, and she had to stick with it. She was a Death Eater now, she had denounced her family, her past, and everything she had grown up with, and this was her life now. It had to be her life now, or else she’d never survive on her own.
Still, these poor children. Water! A simple necessity of life, and they were being denied it unless they were willing to give up the life of a peer? What would she have done in their position? Fight back? Or simply give up and wait for something to happen. The young girl who had asked for water was crying now, and Emily was very thankful for the mask that hid her expressions as well as her identity. How did Pan, or Cole, or any of the other elders do this to these innocent children? The torturing of adults, perhaps, people who could defend themselves, but defenseless first years and young students?
"No.. please.."
Emily sighed silently, and watched to see what the other students would do. She was a lowly newcomer to the group, she was only eighteen years old, and barely anybody here knew anything about her. She didn’t think that they’d entrust her to do anything with the hostages even if she wanted to, and was kind of thankful for that. Just watching for now was enough, and she knew that over the coarse of her stay here she would have a lot to learn.
((Not to make her sound disloyal or anything, but she’s new and she hasn’t really had any experience in this, so those were just the things I imagined her thinking. She need some getting-used to, I guess.))
Re: We Are the Dead [ 2/1/09 ; ISO: DEs, Hostages ]
This was beginning to get tiresome. In these types of situations, Panthera was used to interrogations or manipulations of the mind. He was quite good at those. The man was a ruthless businessman and could get almost whatever he wanted at of almost whoever he wanted. Breaking the human mind was a simple task for Pan and he quite enjoyed doing it, and he enjoyed the reward of getting the information he was seeking as well. But this, in this type of situation, there was no real goal. The only goal he was in causing complete and utter terror in these girls which, although satisfactory, did not necessarily need Pan's expertise. This wasn't a job for him, but he had needed to show up to make sure all the formalities were being taken care of. The girls needed to know who their kidnappers were and they needed to know that the Death Eaters knew who they were as well. There was nothing more frightening than finding out that the people who were kidnapping knew every single detail about the person they were kidnapping. Fear was the objective here.
But Pan supposed he'd gotten out what he needed to get out. He'd made sure the name "Death Eaters" had been branded into the minds of these girls and now it was time for him to step out. The other Death Eaters around him were restless; he could feel them. They wanted an opportunity to terrorize these girls as well and Pan knew very well that they would be much more ruthless than him. Pan had always been the type to mentally torture. He knew how to use his words to instill fear and cause pain, but the other Death Eaters liked causing physical pain. They liked to hear the screams of their victims, that Pan knew. And that was why he'd called them. Had he no intention to allow the Death Eaters their fun, he wouldn't have had them all gather here to do what they wanted to do.
"No.. please.."
"Well, this is where I take my leave, I'm afraid," Pan said. "But I'm sure the other Death Eaters would be happy to listen to you." The eyes that stared out of the mask were unchanging. No drop of pity could be seen in them and Pan soon turned around and walked away from the hostages. His movements were graceful, fluid, very much like his animagus form and it was sometimes difficult ot believe he was completely human. It was almost as if his feline tendencies spilled over into his human form, what with his amber eyes and his fluid motions. And with the way his brain seemed to work, one really did have to wonder whether he really was human, which all of the apathy and sheer ruthlessness he displayed. Of course, there were others that were, perhaps, more animalistic than he was and he was about to hand the reins over to them. But Pan knew the Death Eaters would, perhaps, get overzealous and he needed the victims alive afterwards. Pan wasn't going to stick around for the festivites though, and he needed to make sure someone would at least do some monitoring and his eyes fell on Cole McCade.
The man was interesting to Panthera, for he spent his day saving lives and at night, he came to aid the Death Eaters in ending them. When he was ordered to, he even ended lives within St. Mungo's, killing off those that posed a threat to the Death Eaters. He was a wonderful asset, but at the same time Pan knew better than to trust the man completely. Every one of the Death Eaters desired power and glory and Pan knew that if given the chance, they would stab him in the back and take his place.
Placing a light hand on Cole's shoulder, Pan said quietly into Cole's ear, "Just make sure they're in tact when I come back." He didn't turn to look at the girls or look at Cole at all and instead, just dropped his hand and moved on as the Death Eaters around him began to close in around the girls. Pan could see their blood-thirsty eyes gleaming through the masks. They would do well terrorizing these children and sending them back with fond memories of their time with the Death Eaters. Pan just hoped they didn't damage their minds too severely or they could possibly be unable to tell the Ministry anything. While Pan's intention was for them not to be able to identify them, he did want them to tell the world what the Death Eaters had done to them. It was about time the Wizarding World began fearing the Death Eaters once more and Pan knew that these girls would help him in that quest.
But his eyes soon fell one the youngest member of the Death Eaters, whose eyes looked at the hostages with sympathy. Pan didn't even have to look into her eyes to feel the pity radiating from her. It was inappropriate for a member of the Death Eaters, but this Emily Grey was young and had much to learn. She would eventually get hardened as the time went by and would be molded into the shape of a respectable Death Eater. Either that or she would suffer considerably, if not by the hands of Pan or Maleham, by the hands of the other Death Eaters who weren't fans of sympathizers.
Pan's even footfalls brought him in front of the girl and a hand touched her chin, raising her eyes so that they met his. "This is a war, my dear," Pan said quietly. "There will be casualties and there will be things that must be done. Remember that." With that, he released her and soon vanished through the doorway.
Re: We Are the Dead [ 2/1/09 ; ISO: DEs, Hostages ]"No.. please.."
Cole watched the girls through the eyeholes of his mask, breathing lightly. His pulse was picking up, but that was only because his anticipation for the moment that Pan would allow the Death Eaters to do a little damage was approaching. Pan was hardly the type to get down and dirty in the grunt work. He was more of a mental torturer. The other Death Eaters were perfectly adept and mentally torturing the children. As long as they didn't wind up dead at the end of it, Cole saw no reason for Pan to hesitate in letting the Death Eaters loose. There were a few trigger happy Death Eaters among them. They were the blood thirsty ones. The ones who had every day yearned for the time when their dark mark would begin to burn savagely into the skin of their arms. Cole wasn't one of those blood thirsty men. He could have been completely content if the mark had never burned. The night that the Death Eaters had been scattered into the wind had brought Cole certain relief. Keeping up a double life was tiring, especially when it was as complicated as Cole's.
But Cole couldn't deny his mark, once it began to burn again. He had been one of the first Death Eaters to apparate back to their old hideout, wondering whether or not Voldemort had indeed survived Harry Potter. There hat been some speculation of this. Some wondered whether or not Voldemort had enough humanity left in him to kill, but it had been done. Despite circulating rumors, everyone knew that the Dark Lord was gone forever. So why had his dark mark been burning? Cole hadn't been able to ignore the mark, the curiosity, or the desire to begin his work again. Though he had been happy while he had been working as a full time healer, he hadn't been able to practice the dark arts. They were ten times more powerful, in his eyes, than regular magic. They were fascinating and mysterious, because they held so much power that the user only had to unlock with the key of time. There came satisfaction in knowing that you held the life of another in the palm of your hand. That you could snuff if out if you so chose, or nurture it. This, Cole supposed, was why he was both a Death Eater and a Healer.
"Well, this is where I take my leave, I'm afraid," Pan said. "But I'm sure the other Death Eaters would be happy to listen to you."
Cole's eyes followed Pan as he was approached. He dealt with Pan personally on several occasions. Pan was a business man at heart, but he was more ruthless than the average Death Eater. He could break the mind with ease, which wasn't something most of those in the circle could do. They could merely break the body. "Just make sure they're in tact when I come back." Cole needed to give no response. Pan knew that he would follow orders. Cole knew too, that Pan trusted Cole as much as Cole trusted any of the other Death Eaters in the room, if not more. Cole didn't trust any of them, so he kept his secrets to himself and didn't allow himself to make friends with any of them. He kept up his cold front, and regarded them as allies that he couldn't fully trust. Pan moved almost noiselessly from Cole to Emily, the newest and youngest Death Eater in their ranks.
"This is a war, my dear," Pan said quietly. "There will be casualties and there will be things that must be done. Remember that."
Without another word, Pan left, leaving Cole in charge. "Keep them alive." Cole growled, "We need to return them so that they can spread the word that the Death Eaters have returned to their former power." He grinned slightly beneath his mask. "But don't hesitate to have a little fun." With that, he took a step forward, pointing his wand at Meghan Spire. The first year Ravenclaw, and the youngest of the girls. "Crucio." He murmured darkly. Cole felt it was always more intimidating to say the forbidden spells when you were using them. It made them seem all the more dangerous.
Erica Nightshade
Mark Sorelli
5th Year Hufflepuff
Prefect Picture Perfect
Erica Nightshade
7th Year Ravenclaw
Prefect/Chaser ... who, me?
Lincoln "Link" Rowley
1st Year Gryffindor
Seeker Consistently Inconsistent
Emily Grey
Death Eater Age is only a number...
Re: We Are the Dead [ 2/1/09 ; ISO: DEs, Hostages ]
The leaders of the group seemed to be done with their part, which had consisted primarily of making sure these kids knew who their captors were. She doubted that they’d ever forget it after everything they’ve been through. Panthera Lupus was a man that Emily had quickly grown to respect among the ranks. She especially admired the way he carried himself, the way he spoke with such conviction. He had such a confidence about him, even among such a group of people… it was something she hoped that she would be able to do soon. He just belonged here, it was obvious, and she longed for that sense of fitting into somewhere.
But as this man whom she admired approached her, Emily’s entire body tensed up. What could he possibly want with her? It was then that she realized that while the other Death Eaters had made a mad dash to be the first to torture the captive students, she had been the only one to take her time in moving forward; so much time, in fact, that she hadn’t moved at all yet. She instinctively took a very insubordinate stance, looking down at the floor, hoping that he’d just yell at her and be done with it. Instead, he took her by the chin and forced her to look into his eyes. She kept her own gaze steady and determined.
"This is a war, my dear," Pan said quietly. "There will be casualties and there will be things that must be done. Remember that."
With those words he let her go and turned to leave. Emily felt more shame than when he parents had disowned her on her birthday. This was her first real event with the Death Eaters, and she’d blown it already. How had he known? Was she that obvious? There had to be something she could do, some way that she could keep her emotions in check. She wasn’t bloodthirsty like the rest of them, and it must have been apparent because Pan hadn’t even needed to see her face to know what she was feeling. This wasn’t going to go over well with the others if she kept this up, but what could she do?
You know what you have to do, a little voice inside of her said. Emily knew that she had to do, yes, but she didn’t like the idea, not one bit. She only wished that Pan had stuck around a little longer, at least long enough to see what she as about to do. She needed to prove herself, because in a moment of rash decisions she’d joined this group of people, and if she wasn’t going to stick with her decisions he was going to be tortured herself. So now she had two choices; to torture or to be tortured.
Crucio
The word came from the mouth of Cole, another Death Eater whom Emily looked up to, and was aimed at the youngest of the three girls. Emily kept her eyes on the scene, determined not to look away. She had to deal with this; it was who she was now. In time she wouldn’t even put a second thought to the torturing of innocents, and the sooner she moved on the sooner this time would come. Pushing her way through the crowd of Death Eaters she came to the front of the circle, and face to face with Adrienne Denton, the oldest of the three girls.
Emily’s eyes betrayed a little bit of sympathy aimed at the girl, but only long enough for Adrienne to see that Emily may very well regret anything she was about to do. Raising her want, Emily was surprised at the little amount of shaking her hand was doing. Emily was trying her best to control herself, and her eyes quickly took on a glazed, determined expression.
“Cru…” her voice faltered but she quickly regained her composure. This time when she spoke her voice was clear, sturdy, and strong. “Crucio!” She only held it for a maximum of five seconds before her hand fell back down to her side and she waited to survey the damage she had caused to the fourth year Ravenclaw girl. Maybe she wasn’t so hopeless after all…
Lyssa Kerr
Bridget "Brid" Campbell
1st Year Ravenclaw Fly on the Wall
Adrienne Denton
4th Year Ravenclaw
Chaser It's all in the Details...
Jordyn Huntington
4th Year Gryffindor Eh?
Sera Tilton
7th Year Gryffindor
Prefect/Chaser Overachiever
Re: We Are the Dead [ 2/1/09 ; ISO: DEs, Hostages ]
Adrienne's mind was shutting down, she decided. She was so incredibly terrified that she simply wasn't realizing it anymore. She'd heard that that was what happened when people had a large injury - they didn't realize it until they saw it, and even then they sometimes didn't connect it with themselves. She almost felt like a spectator, like someone watching the entire situation but not actually a part of it. She couldn't be a part of it after all, since she was a fourteen year old Hogwarts student who hadn't done anything to these people in her life. Right? She tried to rationalize it, and failed; she was making the assumption that these people were humane, that they wouldn't do something like this without reason. She knew, on some level, that she was wrong about that, but wouldn't admit this. At fourteen, she had no real grasp on the abstract concept of evil vs good - evil was evil, good was good, and the latter always triumphed. The 'bad guys', while evil, didn't do things like torture children. It was the adults who had to deal with those harsh realities.
She shook her head slightly as the man rattled off their names and lineage, their Houses and years. Distantly, she noticed that she was the oldest, and not the only Ravenclaw. She was still convinced this wasn't happening, the terror she was feeling settling like a pit in her stomach. They knew who she was; they knew who her parents were, what House she was in. How had they known all this? Did they know who she spent time with, who she was friends with? If she'd been in her right state of mind, she would have realized that that meant they could follow through with their threats. They might have already done so; the girls didn't know what was going on outside of that little room, after all. She stared at the Death Eaters blankly, trying to not hear. One of the younger girls croaked out the need for water, and Adrienne nodded slightly. She was so dry, in need of water - just like they all were, she supposed. They were all in the same condition, just as terrified as one another.
That didn't make her feel any better.
She directed her gaze down at her feet, not listening any longer. She didn't want to listen any longer; her grip on her fear was tight, but ready to crack at any moment. Distant she might have been moments before, but with the realization that these people had absolute power over her... She didn't listen for fear that they would see how frightened she was. Of course, a blind man would have been able to see that, but she didn't realize it. She just knew that she didn't want to hear any more. She did start listening again a few moments later, though, when the man said,
"Well, this is where I take my leave, I'm afraid. But I'm sure the other Death Eaters would be happy to listen to you."
Happy to listen to us say what? Adrienne thought bleakly, lifting her gaze and shuddering at the sight of the ranks of death eaters closing in on them. She was made even more aware of exactly how helpless she was, as though she hadn't been aware of it before. She felt herself shaking a bit, and tried to stop it only to find that she couldn't. What were they going to do? She didn't want to know. Merlin, she didn't want to know.
"Keep them alive." One of the men said. Adrienne wasn't sure which; she shuddered at the sound of his voice, at what he said. "We need to return them so that they can spread the word that the Death Eaters have returned to their former power. But don't hesitate to have a little fun."
What he said as both terrifying and reassuring. They were going to survive, because they were needed. For whatever reason - to spread the word that the Death Eaters were back. But in the meantime, she knew that their time in this room was going to be far from pleasant; it hadn't been pleasant until this point, and it sounded like it was about to get much worse. She couldn't see how, but knew that the 'fun' of a Death Eater would not be fun for her. Her feelings were confirmed moments later when the man pointed his wand at the girl who'd asked for water. Adrienne closed her eyes at the sound of the spell, drawing her shoulders in and shrinking into what she hoped was a smaller target. Merlin, no. No, no, no! Her mind wailed, as though shouting it silently would make all the difference. This isn't happening. It isn't!
However, it was happening. A woman - Adrienne thought she was a woman - stopped in front of the shivering Ravenclaw, and for a moment Adrienne thought she caught a flash of pity in the eyes behind the mask. For a moment, though, before the woman lifted her wand and Adrienne screwed her eyes shut again. This wasn't happening. Not to her.
"Crucio!"
The pain a few moments later told her she was wrong, so wrong. She wasn't sure if she screamed or not, though after the fact she knew she did - her hoarse voice implied it, anyway, though it might have been a dry throat. All she knew was that she hurt, she hurt, and that it wasn't ever going to stop. Except it did, what felt like ages later. It couldn't have been more than a few seconds, but it felt as though she'd been in pain for hours - pain everywhere, not in one place, more pain that she could handle even when she was calm. However, she was scared out of her mind, and that only made things worse. She shook, opening her eyes and blinking rapidly at the tears that were there; she hadn't felt herself begin to cry, though it could have begun at any time.
"Please-" She whispered, her voice shaking and hoarse. "Please don't, please..." She wanted to go home.
sophielynette
Meghan Spire
1st Year Ravenclaw Where's the proof?
Jade Howe
4th Year Gryffindor
Reserve Beater And Howe!
Re: We Are the Dead [ 2/1/09 ; ISO: DEs, Hostages ]
There was no way to hide now.
Before, even when they were making threats, Meghan had been able to block them out, to recede inside herself and pretend it all wasn't happening. Just a terrible dream, and she's wake up eventually. But now it had become extremely obvious that all the past torment was just Childs play. Everything had come to a head now. Here was the climax. Whatever was going to happen, it was going to happen now. Meghan couldn't block it out any longer. She had to face her fears.
Though she positively trembled with terror, Meghan paid very close attention to the goings on. Though her vision was terrible without her glasses, if she tried hard enough she could make out individual figures. That could be important. Everything could be important. Her very life may depend on it.
"Well, this is where I take my leave, I'm afraid," Pan said. "But I'm sure the other Death Eaters would be happy to listen to you."
That must be the person who had been interrogating them. He was leaving now, so Meghan supposed that was a relief. Maybe this was all over. Maybe she was wrong about the climax-- or perhaps this was all they had in mind. Maybe now they would let them go. Meghan let her body relax a fraction, eyes falling closed. Her eyes snapped swiftly open at the next words she heard.
"Keep them alive. We need to return them so that they can spread the word that the Death Eaters have returned to their former power. But don't hesitate to have a little fun."
The statement had started off optimistic-- they weren't going to be killed! They were going to be returned! But the final sentence made Meghan's body grow cold. What did he mean by "have a little fun?"
"Crucio."
The word hit her a split second before the spell did. It was one of those surreal moments where time stopped as you tried to figure out what was going on. Meghan had never even heard of the intolerable acts before. In all honesty, throughout the ordeal she'd forgotten all about magic and spells, and it didn't even dawn on her the meaning of the word, until suddenly the cold dread was replaced by unimaginable pain. Meghan was screaming like she'd never screamed before, a horrible wail of pain and confusion. Why was this happening, what had she ever done to deserve such pain? And then the scream dissolved into a hacking cough, and sobbing, as her little body trembled convulsively, and her mind echoed the question, why? Why?
Re: We Are the Dead [ 2/1/09 ; ISO: DEs, Hostages ]
She could feel it. She could smell it. She could almost taste it in the air. Her tongue slithered out to lick her lips, hidden under the skeleton mask. It was sweet, this feeling, this fear that surrounded the bound victims. It almost sent her into a frenzy. She was like a wolf, waiting to pounce. Waiting to make the kill. Her hackles raised she would pounce in one silent and swift motion. She’d tear at the throat, rip out the chords. By the time she had finished, the victim would be less than a corpse. But for now, she would wait, hidden in the shadows. She knew the longer she did, the sweeter the taste would be. It would build, and build, and build until one final climax. Then it would be sweet, sweet ecstasy.
Around her, Branwen felt her colleagues buzzing. They too felt it, they too wanted to taste the blood. It had been too long coming. And yet it could not have been done any other way. But now, finally, they would taste victory. The world would once again recognise the face of death. Fear would sweep both worlds, a dark age of blood and violence would ensue. No one would be safe. Like a horrific tale, people would find their loved ones mutilated, their bodies twisted beyond recognisation. All efforts, all struggles to overthrow would be vanquished, stepped on like a flowering bloom. All the maniacs, the vagabonds and the criminals of the world would be free and nothing could stop them from destruction.
In front of her, Panthera circled the helpless victims. He was her master, her leader, her Only. To Branwen he was everything and she would follow him without question. He had given her this life and he could take it, she well understood. He created her this world, and he could crush it with a single blow. His absolute power mesmerised her, induced her into acts that would even leave hell retching. But to her they were acts of faith, complete and utter faith. As he prepared his prey, she felt a ris ein her chest. Only in death would they be parted and even then, she knew, they would meet in hell.
"War is peace. Freedom is slavery. Ignorance is strength, You know where that's from? A muggle book, written by a man named George Orwell. He wrote of a world where everyone is ignorant, where everyone's mind is poisoned by the omnipotent Party, which feeds them lies and forces them to think in a certain manner, not unlike the world you live in now."
Branwen watched, her golden eyes fixated upon Panthera. Every word he spoke was a slow poison to his victims veins. With every creeping sentence he was bringing them closer to death. A shudder rippled Branwens body, one of pleasure. Sadism was a relish, only fit for the strongest. And she was one of the strongest and would always be. Her warped mind declared nothing sanctimonious, only pain. Cultivated from an early age, she had grown as the strongest weed in a society of roses. And she would consume them.
"Now, I suppose it is only polite I let you introduce yourselves."
She smiled cruelly. The fear and confusion that flitted across their victims faces was a beautiful thing. They were still so naïve, so innocent in seeing their fate. She supposed they still had hope. There was none. Their lives had been doomed the very moment they had been captured. Like little birds, they struggle, trying to find a way out of their prison. But it was pointless, all attempts were fruitless. Even now one of them begged for water. They may leave the place with their bodies in tact, their hearts still beating. But their minds would never be the same again. And they would get no mercy here. The devil in Panthera Lupus would allow none. Not one drop of compassionate blood circulated his body. Only cold, ruthless ambition.
"You want water?" he asked simply, looking at the victim coldly. "What do you offer in return for it? A life, perhaps?”
Underneath her mask, Branwen smirked. She loved to watch the games he played, most of all because of what she knew he could do. Such was the infinitesimal control Lupus held that he could break the human mind. It was a black gift of Lucifer, his cunning, his guile. Had he lived in the pit of flame, he would have been one of His most useful servants. Panthera, was brutal.
"Well, this is where I take my leave, I'm afraid," Pan said. "But I'm sure the other Death Eaters would be happy to listen to you."
She did not want him to leave, not now. She wanted him to stay and see the torture she could inflict, the pain and the horror. She wanted for Panthera to feel as she did for him. Branwen desired praise and admiration form her master and it pained her to see him leave. But she understood well enough. Her could have no more fun tonight. That he left to her and the other DeathEaters. She would tell him later that night in all its gory detail. For now, they would be parted.
"Keep them alive." Growled a voice nearby "We need to return them so that they can spread the word that the Death Eaters have returned to their former power. But don't hesitate to have a little fun."
At this Branwen let out a long, cold laugh. Even the victims would understand what that meant. Now they had come to the good part of the night. The tension in the cabin had been building slowly and now it was coming to a head. For a moment there was silence. Then a point of the wand and a quick word. Not an instant later the cabin was filled with a bloodcurdling scream. The little victim writhed, her body trembled. Again Branwen laughed, a sound of death. This was all too wonderful.
Almost bounding, she came to her own victim, the eldest girl. She had pleaded and begged throughout the night, but to no avail. She would suffer the same fate as the girls around her. Breathing heavily, Branwen came close, leaning in to her face. So close was she the mask scraped the girls face and feel the heat of fear that radiated from it. Yet the young girl could do little, bound like an asylum’s mate. There, Branwen whispere din her ear, every word filled with poison and malice.
“Do not fear, little one.” She whispered in mock comfort as she stroked the girls face with a black, gloved finger. “You will get your turn soon enough. But first you must say sorry.”
Taking her wand, Branwen raised it under the girls chin, as if it were a sword. Then, with eth tongue of a snake she commanded –
“Impero!”
The girl would now be under her command, she would perform every whim. Inside her chest, Branwen black heart thudded a march of victory. So sweet, so very sweet was this power she held.
“Now,” she said, her voice still sweet and sinister. “Say you are sorry. Say you are sorry for your mudblood father. Say you are sorry for your whore of a mother. Say you are sorry, for being the pup of an inbred bitch.”
Re: We Are the Dead [ 2/1/09 ; ISO: DEs, Hostages ]
The show had been a good, satisfying one. Camellia enjoyed watching Panthera do what Panthera does best: harm, without the visible physical wounds. As the eldest in the group, she found this all to be mere fun and games. They were but mere children, after all! Camellia wanted to get to the big game, the strategies, the mass deceit and confusion, the mysteries they wove like horrific tapestries.
When Panthera left, all they had to play with were children who were already cowering. Where was the fun in that? The brunt of the work had been done by the master of the trade, and the aged veteran could do nothing but sulk silently behind her mask. Still, she watched curiously as Branwen went ahead and used the Imperius curse on the eldest of the bunch and had the fledgeling spew apologies for the upbringing she had received and other such forces that had been out of the child's control. Branwen could be such a cow. Still, the girl had spunk and drive, so Camellia couldn't help but like the promising apprentice.
"These wretches truly thing they can become great witches with their tainted blood? Honestly, all they're doing is weakening our kind. Surely if they had any compassion for the collectivity they would give up the art of spellcrafts and return to the Muggle life they're cut out for. It's common knowledge that success is only truly achievement by those pure of blood! That Potter boy was the only exception, simply because he's a freak!"
Camellia made her way to the youngest of them and asked her, "So, mudblood munchkin, what do you want to be when you grow up?"
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