Summer
Post by Jamie Rosenthal on Aug 6, 2013 2:31:59 GMT -5
How did a Death Eater get on school grounds? Worse yet, how did he capture students? How did he have the heart to hurt the students while demanding someone find me within the castle?
I couldn't hesitate, I knew that. I ran. Ran down the stairs of the castle, burst through the door with my wand drawn, and ran through the grounds. All of them were so scared, pale and frightened, clinging to each other and trembling as the dark eyed man glowered at the seventh year Gryffindor who had pushed himself in front of the rest, unwavering. Such bravery, it warmed my heart, though as I grew close, I heard him...Dmitri...he cast an Unforgiveable curse. Crucio. It was meant for the young man in front of the others, but I have always been foolish when it came to saving others.
I had moved far faster than I ever had, straight into the path of the curse and stood my ground as it struck me. My condition prohibited the pain from affecting me, so I fixed Dmitri with a stare void of emotion, but my voice betrayed me when I begged him to free the students. It wavered, it showed my weakness and my need to save them before I would save myself.
He has always cared far more for others than he has himself, and that would affect me, if I cared not for the welfare of others. The instant he begged me to release the students, I made my move. I simply flew at him and gripped a palm around the pale slope of a throat and appirated him from the school with my prize in tow. He fought with surprising strength, but was no match for my madness.
Knock, knock, Jamie...knock, knock...
I couldn't breathe with the way he gripped my throat. There was, of course, no pain, but the air restriction put a white haze over my vision as he manipulated my own body through the fallen trees and tangles of the vines within a place that seemed...familiar. You know the feeling that you get when you arrive somewhere you've been before? The place was riddled with that feeling.
I swung at Dmitri and connected a few weakening punches to his ribcage before his hand moved from my throat and I took in the deepest breath I could. I could not run through the haze, not far, but enough that he found it amusing and snapped one of the vines up to capture my feet. When I fell, I fell hard.
He bled so...beautifully. Flowers nearly grew from the purity in his blood. I have to admit, it was the one time I wish I had been a cannibal in order to taste that blood. However, I did unbind his feet and bind his hands instead. It was far easier to get him moving that way.
Not many people know that I am anemic, and my blood can not clot easily, but, I know I bled all the way to the old Cold War bunker that he had found within the forest. I have never seen so many Death Eaters in my life. Even being from Durmstrang and being taught the dark magic that they used, I did not ever wish to feel such darkness around me. Most of them averted their eyes from me, as if the sun on my skin was blinding them.
Perhaps it was my aura.
Forgive my weakness, but I emptied my mind and filled my thoughts with something to keep me calm. I thought of Li in our home in Berlin; I thought of Shade, who loved to walk along my desk and change his colors with every step; and most of all, I thought of Aleksandr. If I had the chance to speak to him again after this, I'd finally tell him about the way I felt. Forgive me. He was all I wanted right now. All I wanted was to hear his voice. I wanted to see him smile. Even to feel the caress of the pads of his cool fingers as they trace the hair from my face.
He was not reacting to my taunts as I pushed him into the sub level underground area of the German bunker. He seemed in another place, so I made sure he connected with the walls as roughly as I was able. Feel it, he may not, but that beautiful blood soaked into the very foundation of this place.
I was scared, but I hid it well, even as he shoved me into the room where he quickly connected my wrists with shackles and hung my arms above my head with a chain connected to the ceiling. It made my shoulders numb to stand this way, but, better this than any alternative I could feasibly think of. Every time he neared me, I caught myself flinching, thankful for my hair hiding my face, until he gripped a scalpel and pressed the blade under my chin, forcing my head upward to face him full on. Ever since we were children, I feared him. His eyes were soulless, inhuman, and cruel. Here he was, breathing into my face, those eyes ripping my soul from my flesh.
He spoke of an interest in my condition, wishing to harness the ability to numb his men of pain. I told him that he ran the risk of killing them if they wound up injured and had no way to know. Sepsis is something I must be careful of, and infection, gangrene, all of that could kill me if I did not know I was injured. He laughed in my face and shoved that scalpel deep into my chest.
I felt nothing, simply looked up at him in confusion.
It angered him.
Why?? Why does he not scream?! I furthered the pain by plunging the very handle of the surgical instrument into the open wound.
Silence.
I have never seen so much of my own blood before, but I did not ask him to stop his movements. Words would not form in my throat. He switched from the bloodstained scalpel, to a surgical saw, raking it across my back with a violent tug. I could feel nothing as my skin was ripped to shreds. It was only angering him further, however, and I feel as if my life may end here.
Surgical instrument after instrument plunged into my skin, pulled through muscle, striking nerves that made my limbs twitch, and striking bones that splintered dangerously. Still, no sound left my bloody lips. He finally grew frustrated and slammed the whole tray of bloody instruments into the back wall before turning and leaving without a word.
I waited for nearly an hour before shrieking at the top of my voice and wrenching my wrists to a bloody mess in an attempt to free myself, before speaking the only wandless healing spell I could think to utter. It put me into a deep sleep, and I sank down to my knees as it moved through me.
How in the hell did he not speak. No sound whatsoever! No tears! Not even a plea for me to stop. How...boring. Perhaps at a later date.
I was swept into a dream.
A dream where Aleksandr held me and assured me that he would save me soon, that he was coming.
And for the first time in my life...I felt my heart fly from my chest and seek him out. I needed him more than I ever thought I would need another soul in my life. Not only to free me from this Cold War prison, but to hold me. To console me. To chase the memories of Dmitri's madness from my mind and soothe my heart with his touch.
I heard nothing when the Aurors arrived, stuck in my dream-like healing stage, not until my dream showed me a dove flying into the room, just as I heard the click of the locks on my wrists. I felt arms and was comforted by a scent.
His scent.
His arms.
Bless the fates...I was safe.
I couldn't hesitate, I knew that. I ran. Ran down the stairs of the castle, burst through the door with my wand drawn, and ran through the grounds. All of them were so scared, pale and frightened, clinging to each other and trembling as the dark eyed man glowered at the seventh year Gryffindor who had pushed himself in front of the rest, unwavering. Such bravery, it warmed my heart, though as I grew close, I heard him...Dmitri...he cast an Unforgiveable curse. Crucio. It was meant for the young man in front of the others, but I have always been foolish when it came to saving others.
I had moved far faster than I ever had, straight into the path of the curse and stood my ground as it struck me. My condition prohibited the pain from affecting me, so I fixed Dmitri with a stare void of emotion, but my voice betrayed me when I begged him to free the students. It wavered, it showed my weakness and my need to save them before I would save myself.
He has always cared far more for others than he has himself, and that would affect me, if I cared not for the welfare of others. The instant he begged me to release the students, I made my move. I simply flew at him and gripped a palm around the pale slope of a throat and appirated him from the school with my prize in tow. He fought with surprising strength, but was no match for my madness.
Knock, knock, Jamie...knock, knock...
I couldn't breathe with the way he gripped my throat. There was, of course, no pain, but the air restriction put a white haze over my vision as he manipulated my own body through the fallen trees and tangles of the vines within a place that seemed...familiar. You know the feeling that you get when you arrive somewhere you've been before? The place was riddled with that feeling.
I swung at Dmitri and connected a few weakening punches to his ribcage before his hand moved from my throat and I took in the deepest breath I could. I could not run through the haze, not far, but enough that he found it amusing and snapped one of the vines up to capture my feet. When I fell, I fell hard.
He bled so...beautifully. Flowers nearly grew from the purity in his blood. I have to admit, it was the one time I wish I had been a cannibal in order to taste that blood. However, I did unbind his feet and bind his hands instead. It was far easier to get him moving that way.
Not many people know that I am anemic, and my blood can not clot easily, but, I know I bled all the way to the old Cold War bunker that he had found within the forest. I have never seen so many Death Eaters in my life. Even being from Durmstrang and being taught the dark magic that they used, I did not ever wish to feel such darkness around me. Most of them averted their eyes from me, as if the sun on my skin was blinding them.
Perhaps it was my aura.
Forgive my weakness, but I emptied my mind and filled my thoughts with something to keep me calm. I thought of Li in our home in Berlin; I thought of Shade, who loved to walk along my desk and change his colors with every step; and most of all, I thought of Aleksandr. If I had the chance to speak to him again after this, I'd finally tell him about the way I felt. Forgive me. He was all I wanted right now. All I wanted was to hear his voice. I wanted to see him smile. Even to feel the caress of the pads of his cool fingers as they trace the hair from my face.
He was not reacting to my taunts as I pushed him into the sub level underground area of the German bunker. He seemed in another place, so I made sure he connected with the walls as roughly as I was able. Feel it, he may not, but that beautiful blood soaked into the very foundation of this place.
I was scared, but I hid it well, even as he shoved me into the room where he quickly connected my wrists with shackles and hung my arms above my head with a chain connected to the ceiling. It made my shoulders numb to stand this way, but, better this than any alternative I could feasibly think of. Every time he neared me, I caught myself flinching, thankful for my hair hiding my face, until he gripped a scalpel and pressed the blade under my chin, forcing my head upward to face him full on. Ever since we were children, I feared him. His eyes were soulless, inhuman, and cruel. Here he was, breathing into my face, those eyes ripping my soul from my flesh.
He spoke of an interest in my condition, wishing to harness the ability to numb his men of pain. I told him that he ran the risk of killing them if they wound up injured and had no way to know. Sepsis is something I must be careful of, and infection, gangrene, all of that could kill me if I did not know I was injured. He laughed in my face and shoved that scalpel deep into my chest.
I felt nothing, simply looked up at him in confusion.
It angered him.
Why?? Why does he not scream?! I furthered the pain by plunging the very handle of the surgical instrument into the open wound.
Silence.
I have never seen so much of my own blood before, but I did not ask him to stop his movements. Words would not form in my throat. He switched from the bloodstained scalpel, to a surgical saw, raking it across my back with a violent tug. I could feel nothing as my skin was ripped to shreds. It was only angering him further, however, and I feel as if my life may end here.
Surgical instrument after instrument plunged into my skin, pulled through muscle, striking nerves that made my limbs twitch, and striking bones that splintered dangerously. Still, no sound left my bloody lips. He finally grew frustrated and slammed the whole tray of bloody instruments into the back wall before turning and leaving without a word.
I waited for nearly an hour before shrieking at the top of my voice and wrenching my wrists to a bloody mess in an attempt to free myself, before speaking the only wandless healing spell I could think to utter. It put me into a deep sleep, and I sank down to my knees as it moved through me.
How in the hell did he not speak. No sound whatsoever! No tears! Not even a plea for me to stop. How...boring. Perhaps at a later date.
I was swept into a dream.
A dream where Aleksandr held me and assured me that he would save me soon, that he was coming.
And for the first time in my life...I felt my heart fly from my chest and seek him out. I needed him more than I ever thought I would need another soul in my life. Not only to free me from this Cold War prison, but to hold me. To console me. To chase the memories of Dmitri's madness from my mind and soothe my heart with his touch.
I heard nothing when the Aurors arrived, stuck in my dream-like healing stage, not until my dream showed me a dove flying into the room, just as I heard the click of the locks on my wrists. I felt arms and was comforted by a scent.
His scent.
His arms.
Bless the fates...I was safe.
