| House Points | |||
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Gryffindor: 170 |
Slytherin: 48 |
Ravenclaw: 880 |
Hufflepuff: 1022 |
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Date: January 16th, 2013
Today's Forecast: The air is reminiscent of spring. The snow, turning slowly into a fine carpet of slush, is slowly disappearing after a decidedly warm spell. |
HIRP: Reborn is located here. |
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It is now: Year 7 - Day 4 - Supper/Quidditch Practice
Happening now: Supper Azkaban Trip is now out of time. Feel free to continue all plots as planned. Feel free to finish all plots out of time. |
| Next: Day 5: Valentine's Day |
| Read Today's Daily Prophet: Knights of Walpurgis attack Hogwarts; Belleford steps down as Hogwarts closes until further notice |
| Welcome to Hogwarts Interactive Role Play, one of the net's best in Harry Potter and Hogwarts role plays. We hope you enjoy your visit. Here at Hogwarts our students are currently in their Seventh Year. Last year, the war against the Knights crescendoed into a direct attack against the school. Disappearances are still reported (or not) daily, and the Dark Lord and his Knights of Walpurgis have succeeded in spreading their message of "do as thou will" far and wide across the globe. Magical Law Enforcement, which is now the only authority in the wizarding world under Martial Law, has responded by tightening security, controlling the media, and strictly enforcing curfews and other laws. Their control is damaging to the people's freedom, and their hierarchy is a suspicious lot. It is clear that some members of the MLE like their new found power a bit too much, others see it necessary, but all are in serious danger of being consumed by it. But with the picture of just what Azariah Amaranth is after becoming ever clearer, and a third player in the form of a group called SAVIOR entering the scene, what will the MLE do next to ensure that they've got the situation under control? The Elementium, the Higher Plane that had once been hidden just beyond the veil in the Department of Mysteries, and the Deathly Hallows. The pieces of the puzzle have been identified, but what picture do they make? Today is Day 1 of Year Seven. Students have had time to recover from the Knight's attack, and are beginning to reluctantly return to the walls of Hogwarts. The safety of the school has been diminished, bringing up the question everyone must ask. Are you safe anywhere these days? It's up to each individual to decide their fate, where will you decide to go? You're currently viewing our forum as a guest. This means you are limited to certain areas of the board and there are some features you can't use. If you join our community, you'll be able to access member-only sections, and use many member-only features such as customizing your profile, sending personal messages, and voting in polls. Registration is simple, fast, and completely free. If you are interested in joining our forum as a role player, please take a look at the Joining HIRP Checklist (click me!) for an easy-to-follow guide on how to join! Click here to register! Await your email confirmation before you can post. If you're already a member please log in to your account to access all of our features: |
| For Deeds Dark and Mysterious; Y7, OOT, Between Day 2&3 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Sep 9 2012, 12:36:25 PM (285 Views) | |
| Vile Masked Woman | Sep 9 2012, 12:36:25 PM Post #1 |
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The masked woman stalked quietly through the twisted and gnarled trees of the forbidden forest. Her attire was dark as the night surrounding her, her mask covering the entirety of her face. This was how she operated, quietly and unseen; to any eye but one arduously trained she would be invisible. She could only hope her mutinous spirit over the course of her employment had gone unnoticed by the head honcho himself. The Dark Lord's interests did not line up with her own. She did not like how he operated or how little control she had over the events that were taking place in her life. The woman needed control almost more than she needed oxygen and this went against almost everything Azariah stood for. Luckily she was not alone with her grievances. Unfortunately the places to speak of a coup were few and far in between. One may never know who is listening in. She arrived at the designated meeting area far in advance, wanting to take the time to check over the enchantments that had been placed over the area to insure no unwanted listener would find their way in. Once having checked the dome of secret keeping to her liking she quietly drifted into the shadows and awaited her counterpart. The man she had bonded herself to. A man she had no choice but to trust. In this, their goals were similar. As long as she knew what he wanted to accomplish she could stay one step ahead of him, continuing to be useful to him until she was powerful enough to overcome him entirely. There would come a time when they were unnecessary to each other and she refused to unprepared for such an obvious outcome. It was thus with great caution the two interacted and why she chose to hide herself in shadow. |
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| Deceitful Masked Man | Sep 10 2012, 05:01:48 PM Post #2 |
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Dead men tell no tales
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It was not easy to sneak out of the castle with such a rigorous security this year, even if one were a rodent. Prolonged absence was no longer possible, which made him unable to travel as often anymore. But what he'd seen was enough to make his displeasure with the situation of their nefarious order escalate. Ever since the attack on Hogwarts, when Amaranth so carelessly disposed of his victim, all the irritation had been simmering beneath the surface. While capable of being a patient man, it bothered him greatly to not see any progress at all. Whether The Dark Lord merely kept them in the dark or truly didn't do anything to mend the MLE problem, it was enough to make the Knight search for other options. Rather fortunately, he hadn't executed his associate when his identity had been revealed to her. Because now, even if he couldn't fully trust her, she was a much better choice than the man under an impression of being his master. Perhaps it was finally time to stop the charade and begin what he'd wanted to achieve for a long time. A small shrew, cautiously passing through the concealing foliage, sniffed the cold, soggy air of the forest, recognizing a particular scent that drifted to its nose. She was early as always, and alone, if he didn't include the dark creatures so far keeping their distance from the both of them. Even with his human eyes, the Animagus didn't doubt it wouldn't be easy to spot her, but his current sense of smell and the faint traces of magical energy ahead did give him a rather accurate direction. The greyish animal grew larger as it continued onwards, its tiny feet and frame fluidly changing to those of a man who straightened from his crouch with nonchalance of a lord having only just paused to tie his shoelace. There was not a spot of mud on his dark robe. "I assume you know why we're here," the man spoke impassively, seemingly addressing a shadow of a tree. Incidentally, he employed a wand to analyze the charms placed on the area, finding them sufficient enough for their conversation. It had been a brief and unspecific message he'd sent her, in a code nobody else should suspect or hope to decipher in reasonable time. While there still were doubts, coming with his sceptical nature, he considered her intelligence of an adequate level to interpret the note correctly. If she didn't, he'd have no use for her. |
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| Vile Masked Woman | Sep 12 2012, 06:54:17 PM Post #3 |
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The man before her had no reason to be wary of her presence, not yet. "You'd be dead otherwise." The response came quietly from the shadows, followed closely by the woman herself. She wasn't the sort to strangle about with useless information. As he well knew. Ko had little patience for useless questions and he should very well know what her next step would have been upon receiving his note... had she not regarded it favourably. The note had been simple enough for her to understand, only because the two had been working together; anyone else given the same note would have been confused by the nuance. The masked woman wasn't the sort to give out compliments nor would she expect him in need of one. Her posture was deceptively relaxed as she broke down some of the distance between her and the man, stalling a few feet away and allowing her body to shift comfortably into a standing position. "Tell me I came out here for more reason than affirmation." Her voice was quiet but perfectly understandable in the still night air. Any emotion was skilfully hidden, as she had been too careless in the past with the fluctuations of her voice. It was a way of giving someone an upper hand she wasn't willing to allow. Blackwood had too easily detected her unrest with their Dark Lord and she couldn't have anyone else doing the same. If he felt the need to question her intelligence she would do the same to him. It was the only plausible explanation for the way her demand had been phrased. Ko assumed he had some sort of plan as to how they could take down a man who was not a man. The woman was unsure she'd have the capacity to restrain an urge to strangle her masked counterpart had he pulled her out here on some wild goose chase to check something he undoubtedly already knew. |
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| Deceitful Masked Man | Sep 14 2012, 06:12:06 PM Post #4 |
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Dead men tell no tales
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Mildly amused, Septimus' eyebrows lifted a fraction behind his mask. "Of course," he retorted patronizingly, a tone he knew the woman didn't like. She was learning, however, making it harder for him to read her. It led him both to be little more wary around her and assured she wouldn't be exposed by other Knights as easily. But right now it was a useful attribute to have in his accomplice. She might have been dangerous, but not enough to deceive him. Some risks just needed to be taken. Besides, she needed him as much as he, regrettably to admit, needed her. As long as it stayed this way, he was fairly sure she wouldn't make any unwise moves to end their partnership. "Perhaps," Blackwood begun evenly, hands joining behind back and taking his time as he sidestepped the masked woman, "How many?" There was no need to draw this out longer than necessary and she no doubt knew he was hinting on the assignment he'd given her. One to subtly detect how the loyalty of certain Amaranth's servants deteriorated as of late. Having known them longer than her, Septimus was able to provide direction that should have made her task considerably simpler. He cared not how she felt about taking orders from him, as long as she did what was needed. Although he enjoyed at least some degree of power, there had been another matter for them to resolve which kept him busy as well. And solved it he did, at least in theory this far. But defeating the Dark Lord would be of no consequence if they had no support in subduing the following resistance. There was no doubt some of the Knights wouldn't take their daring step kindly. |
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| Vile Masked Woman | Sep 20 2012, 08:17:44 AM Post #5 |
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The woman, for her part, ignored the patronizing tone he had decided to use. Knowing full well what he was trying to accomplish in doing so. He had been the one to ask the stupid question. There were subtle indications to her irritation, a small change in posture; a rigidness that highly suggested she'd like nothing more than to cause him physical pain. With a level of restraint that was almost admirable she let the topic drop and shifted into the reason, she assumed, they were meeting for. Only to be annoyed once more at the reminder that he viewed her more as a subordinate than anything else. In time, the masked woman reminded herself. Patience had always been one of her better qualities but she wasn't used to working with anyone. Nor was she capable of dealing with the added stress not killing them could add. The woman had been paying attention to such things since joining the little group and his 'assignment' had been quite simple. She had not trusted herself to go up and speak with those she felt were un-loyal. Trusting, instead, in her ability to read people. "None that would speak openly against him." Ko muttered, a thing Blackwood had probably been expecting. Anyone stupid enough to speak openly of such matters wouldn't be worth their time. It wasn't like they were speaking openly against him either. No, they had a bloody bond swearing them to secrecy. The woman took a few moments to list off the names of those she expected would change their allegiance given the right circumstances and then those who would need the Dark Lord totally out of the picture. The woman did not need to list those loyal to the Dark One. For they had a certain way about them that struck them differently from the other Knights. She then fell into an expectant silence. |
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| Deceitful Masked Man | Sep 29 2012, 01:44:54 PM Post #6 |
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Dead men tell no tales
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The shadows of his hood and mask did well to hide the subtle twitch of man's lips at her reaction. Still, if one didn't know what to look for, any slight changes in the Knight's composure would go unnoticed. She really was getting getter. The skill of adaptation. No matter how unpleasant at times, they both knew it was necessary to survive. Especially in their line of work. Just as in his case, there would no doubt come a day when she'd have had enough of being ordered around. Inevitably. Blackwood found himself looking forward to that day, since she seemed to have the potential of a worthy opponent. Her initial response was met with disappointment. Could she truly be this shallow? His mouth parted to let a few choice words regarding her intelligence past, but she went on to prove the assignment was understood. He should start getting used to not doubting her as much anymore. Not because she earned his approval but rather that a female feigning weakness or stupidity could be perilous weapon if the art was mastered. By that principle, he'd never let anyone like Kondracs get close to him. It didn't appear to be in this Knight's nature to stoop so low, but it hadn't been in his to be amicable around people he wished nothing more than to kill. The man listened in silence as she listed the names, the plan in his head moulding with the information. "Good," he gave an acknowledging nod as she finished, implying the numbers were satisfactory, rather than her work. "I can begin a potion that will make us invulnerable to the shadow elementium," he ceased a leisurely circle around the woman, eyes fixed on seeming nothingness. Despite his relaxed state, he'd never stopped listening for any untoward sounds or watching for movements outside of their circle. "There is one... predicament, however, I require your assistance for," the words were not clear of his reluctance, but he kept the whole degree of his displeasure of asking for help to himself. "I need to save a life in order to successfully brew it." The requirement wasn't only limited to this good deed but, after giving it some thought, it became clear there was no more than one viable option for a man who excelled in deception. Long fingers reached to the inside of his cloak to bring forth two small vials, containing liquids of scarlet and blue colours. "I believe you will recognize the substance," he stated as the red phial floated above his open palm. Even as he stepped away, it continued to hover ominously in the air as he revealed its blue counterpart. The man was certain she would know the poison, if not by colour, once taking a whiff of its characteristic odour. "This is an antidote. If administered in under two minutes, it counters the effect." Namely death. His voice had been void of any emotions. The weight of what he was asking her to do saturated the air with tangible silence. It took a certain level of trust to go through with this, but the masked man believed she was aware, if he wanted her dead, there were a couple of easier ways to accomplish that; without breaking the vow. |
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| Vile Masked Woman | Nov 15 2012, 10:51:56 PM Post #7 |
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Invulnerable? Her shock did not show outwardly. Septimus could have been remarking on the weather for as much response he got. The Knight waited silently as he spoke, her gaze never leaving him. Her mind scrolled through the possibilities until she was forced to quiet it. There would be a catch. Overthrowing the Dark Lord, however... He was not even of this world. The woman was intrigued, if nothing else. She knew better than to be sceptical, by this point. Septimus would not have called her here were he not sure of his methods; they were not that desperate to be rid of Amaranth, were they? This thought process came to a dead stand still. Save a life. Arabeth allowed a bitter look to cross her face, understanding the implications far too well. "Delicately put." She sounded almost amused. There was a certain... something... that drew her to this method. So much so that she wasn't particularly scared for her life. What had been suggested seemed borderline imbecilic. Why then..? It was a certain level of reassurance, almost an understanding... It was more important for Amaranth to die than her. Arabeth was not disillusioned with grandeur. She knew just how important she was in the grand scheme and that it would require a certain amount of work to be enemy number one. He need not have pulled the reassurance of an antidote out of his cloak. Nor explain. The woman's dark gaze fell onto the poison unfalteringly. The Knight recognized it, as she would have recognized almost any poison placed in front of her; few were as deadly or efficient in their task. It was utterly tasteless. Death, if it came to her, would be swift and peaceful... almost like slipping into a deep slumber. The thought was oddly romantic. (Even the red colour the potion emanated...) It was not at all how she would picture her end. Nor was she particularly enthused in considering the prospect. Magic was complicated, undoubtedly the good deed of him "saving her" would have been counteracted had he also "killed her" but were she to take the poison herself... For a very small moment as she reached for the tiny flask, it had taken her mere moments to reach her decision, she considered the fact that she might have gone crazy. To not even utter a protest... It would have been childish for her to suggest he drink the poison; she would not stoop to such a level. Just as she were sure there were alternatives. In this she felt as though she were meeting a personal test. She would ingest the poison and come out alive. Neither of them could win in such a circumstance. The tinge of the vial suddenly seemed more demonic. Every hair on her body prickled up in defiance as the vial touched her lips. Arabeth found his gaze, showing not that she trusted him but daring him not to follow through with administering the antidote. A threat of its own. She was one to make assurances, especially before meeting such a dangerous man. It was hard to swallow, she knew full well what she was ingesting and the urge to choke and spit the substance out was hard to conquer. This struggle was not made apparent in any way. Within moments she was acquainted with the ground, her delicate life in the hands of a madman. |
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| Professor Septimus Blackwood | Dec 10 2012, 03:06:48 PM Post #8 |
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Arithmancy Professor
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Whether it was loyalty or pure cold calculation that pushed her to do this, and Blackwood wasn't yet entirely convinced she would have risked this much merely to gain his trust, the man's lips twisted ever so slightly in an almost laudatory approval from the shadows of his mask. He was convinced now there couldn't have been a better accomplice for him to choose, willingly or circumstantially. The dangers she embodied merely a factoring risk he needed to take. Fingers loosely entwined behind his back, the Knight didn't move a muscle as he attentively beheld the woman's sacrifice. It was... fascinating what a power of words could do, and that someone would ingest a poison with no apparent hesitation whatsoever after he merely told them to. Even daring him to let the deathly substance run its course. Tempting indeed. He was in no hurry to administer the antidote. Walking leisurely over to her body, Septimus curled his gloved fingers around the rim of his hood, drawing it down as he gazed down at Arabeth's motionless frame. It was immensely empowering to hold someone's life in one's hands like this. No, it was never the killings he enjoyed, not of his brothers or anyone in the service for the Dark Lord. The most addictive were the moments before any of his victims expired, but he hadn't always felt this way. At first it a was necessity of survival, and Septimus never distinguished the moment he begun to like it. Watching the life slip out of their vessels and having the power to stop it. Seeing the desire to live in their hazed eyes, often pleading to for him to save them. Death was merely an inevitable outcome which ended the sensation. Having someone worthy in that same situation, the place of his victim, was unexpectedly even more intoxicating. A shame he only had two minutes to enjoy it. Never had there been an option to play a saviour in any situation, not with such a thin line between life and death, and the dangers prolonging their fading life involved. But, admittedly, the notion wasn't entirely unappealing to him. The mask was removed a moment later as he lowered himself to one knee beside her and the leather gloves were slowly peeled off his fingers, revealing the striking contrast between his mangled left hand and its pale counterpart. Not once did his seemingly black eyes leave the woman's face. The charred fingers of his cursed appendage wrapped around the blue vial as he inclined his head, as if to remind her of the permanent handiwork and scold her for the redundancy of her deed. Then his scalding gaze trailed to where his own mark had been left, resting where the scarring on her thigh should have been. Septimus wondered whether she'd yet had to explain its origin to anyone, and if she hated him for the courtesy as much as she should have. It may not have been a thorough retaliation when comparing practicality, but his own had given Septimus an alibi - a proof of his supposed allegiance to the MLE. Which was why the original impulse to kill her had faded away within a course of days. Still, it would have been so easy to wait for the poison to pervade her bloodstream and let her weakening heart do all the work, ridding him of one of the daggers, patiently waiting to plunge itself into his back, and an Unbreakable Wow in a matter of minutes. One minute, in fact, before she reached the point of no return. But he was invested now. Letting her die like this would be a waste of a worthy opponent. And he wasn't even accounting for her necessity on his road to domination. He'd waited long enough for a chance like this and wasn't about to let it slip. After the prolonged consideration, Septimus came to a conclusion that had been decided long before. The free hand delved gently into her black locks as he stooped down and tilted her head, long fingers winding around her delicate skull with a firm tenderness of a pianist performing a flowing piece in Adagio. The vial of swirling blue liquid was unstoppered by his blackened thumb and with painstaiking slowness brought towards her lips. He knew very well he was almost stretching the time limit now, but was perfectly aware of every second he could afford. Did she know? Was she fearful it would be too late, or worry he'd change his mind? Would her eyes plead for him to save her? He knew very well she never would, but Septimus found the eyes were rarely ever capable of deception in such a close encounter with death. Just as his keen pair could have shown a glimpse of his fascination with this progress. The way his skin seemed to be humming with energy as he slowly returned life to the assassin's body in his arms made it one of the most unique occurrences in his existence, taking him somewhat by surprise. Unwittingly, his long fingers brushed a few intruding ebony strands from her pallid cheek as the impassiveness of his face shifted towards a look of a somewhat teasing complacence. The wrath she'd inevitably wish to exact upon him after re-taking control of her limbs seemed not to give the man any concern. Even if she did want to kill him for this, more than she had five minutes earlier, he couldn't say this wouldn't have been worth it. |
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| Vile Masked Woman | Dec 10 2012, 11:06:40 PM Post #9 |
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Arabeth was not unconscious. Were it only so... Never, not even as a child, could she recall feeling so helpless. It was not a situation she would ever want to repeat. At the same time there was a feeling of complacency surrounding her, a complacency that the whole of her being fought, tooth and nail, against. Were death conquerable by will power alone she would be invincible. As it was the potion ate away at her living being, deteriorating a perfectly sound body with a startling rapidity. She could feel herself dying. It wasn't at all how she'd imagined death. Her energy, which had so startling ebbed upon digestion of the potion, continued to seep away. Siphoned, she thought blearily, but to where? The quiet reality of the situation flowing peacefully through her being. The woman had been trained not to fear death. It was not her imminent demise that had her fighting against the effects of the potion. She was far too strong to simply let the potion work its magic. She would not simply... A weight was removed from her face, her body shifted. The woman was not particularly aware of the pass of time. It occurred to her, far too late, how much of it had been squandered. So what if she were to die. Precious energy was not wasted on distress. She forced her eyes open, they spun crazily in their hunt for her masked counterpart. It was all she could do to fix her dark gaze on the man, a complex stew of emotions burned in that gaze. Arabeth knew full well what he was doing and refused to give him the pleasure. He needed her and however long he took to administer the antidote, he certainly wouldn't allow her to die. She refused to panic, or give up. She was not a victim, here. Where else would he find such an opportunity to save a life? There was absolutely nothing that could stop the fade in the fire, the dull glow as she felt her heart slowing. The defiance would remain, until the end. Never did she relinquish the battle waging against her circumstances, her incredible struggle against the forces that be. His amusement, his obvious obsession with exerting such control over her existence fueling her helpless battle. It wasn't anger she felt, but an incredible need to get even. She would force that vial so far down his throat... It was with shocking strength and rapidity that she suddenly sprang upon him. Her entire body working deftly, springing up as though with a mind of its own, to pin him beneath her. His hand, the one that had been upon her cheek, was grabbed and twisted painfully. Her intent, the vial, was lost somewhere between that and her other hand snatching him by the throat. Septimus was shoved forcefully to the ground with a grip that would make breathing all but impossible. It had been such a blind shock of energy, as though all that had been taken from her was suddenly returned. What had happened had been purely instinctual. Had such techniques not been trained into her from a young age she would have hardly managed to take him down with such ease. This was second nature to her. She was crouched over him, her body covered in a fine sheen of sweat. Every bit of her being had deemed this necessary. He needed to understand that he not in control, here. It had been her choice. He was not superior. It was not with hate that she stared down at the man in those few seconds, it was an understanding. Never again would he have an opportunity like that. The woman shuddered visibly, then, recoiling blatantly from all she had suddenly been put through. It was a thing she could not have hoped to control, not even had she been given warning. It was an odd thing, suddenly being pulled from the grips of death itself. Her body seemed to get the memo moments later and suddenly it was taking all of her strength not to simply fall over. Arabeth backpedaled away from the madman, she was unable to hide her own weakness. Not for lack of trying. A wounded animal was a dangerous one. If he were to approach her now she would lash out with everything she had left. Her back connected with a tree and she forced herself to stand, her back pressing against the unyielding bark and taking comfort in the support. Septimus could not expect more from her tonight, and leaving would be wise, unfortunately she did not have the strength to apparate. The thought of remaining in his presence even a moment longer was a vile one and she thus refused to be conquered by it. There was something incredibly wrong with this man, that he should delight so obviously in playing God. Perhaps it would be his downfall. Edited by Vile Masked Woman, Dec 10 2012, 11:14:43 PM.
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| Professor Septimus Blackwood | Dec 12 2012, 08:34:31 PM Post #10 |
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Arithmancy Professor
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The force with which the woman leapt after him shouldn't have been achievable for the strongest and healthiest of men, but Septimus didn't show his surprise as he was pinned to the fallen leaves. A hand went for his wand instinctively, but remained there when he recognized her countenance to be in within acceptable threat limits. He couldn't utilize the wand or any other means to cause her harm now, but the sympathizing flash in her eyes made his blood begin to simmer. He was not fond of empathy, as it felt very much as having a supposed weaknesses flaunted into his face. And this hadn't been one. Septimus did not lack the capability of not taking such measures. How did he end up on his back then, knowing her reaction wouldn't be favourable? Did he... want this to happen? Learn to misuse her strings some more, possibly, or just how much she wished him dead. Despite the severely reduced airflow, partly to hide his current impotence in order not to waste the boon from his heroics, Septimus rasped out a dark chuckle, letting his tongue swipe over his lips comfortably. It was a reciprocation of the dare she'd made earlier. Blackwood's discomfort at her painful grasp of his other hand could have remained unnoticed were it not for the pronouncing wrinkles on his otherwise smooth forehead and the minute narrowing of his eyes. But pain was not foreign to him and there was not nearly enough of it for his inborn survival reflex to take over. It was mildly unsatisfying to see that intensity leave her again as she stumbled away. Rising back to his feel, Septimus' coal fingers reached subconsciously to the dark mark forming on his throat as he summoned the vials, sizing his partner up almost pitifully. "Is there something wrong, Arabeth?" he inquired smoothly, tasting her name for only the second time, knowing precisely the combination equalled to pulling at a tiger's tail. Reaching into his cloak, the man revealed another flask, this one of a translucent liquid. He stepped closer despite her threatening pose, and offered the potion in his outstretched hand. It was designed to relieve a person of various forms of muscle atrophy, and what she was experiencing could have been compared to a couple of months on a hospital bed. Even if added to the list of grudges she already held against him, his domineering stunt had still presented more entertainment than he'd had in months. Had there been most of any other Knight in his place, she wouldn't have been this fortunate. After all, there virtually wasn't a hair on her head stood differently. "The process will last another two full moons from now," he informed, letting the vial drop to her feet before reintroducing the gloves to his fingers. "Our communications will be restricted to crucial information only." He didn't want to tempt her invulnerability and the success of the potion any more than necessary. Septimus was left with no other option but to trust her to continue with their plan without his interference from now on. And he did. |
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| Vile Masked Woman | Feb 2 2013, 08:26:10 PM Post #11 |
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Standing was made more of a chore in those few minutes than ever she could remember. The masked woman could feel her grips on her body breaking, knees buckling, strength seeping away... This was not nearly as merciless as the poison itself had been. Arabeth was not the sort of woman to beg, however, nor would she ever be the sort to wish for an easier path. She had not the strength to regard the man with scorn as he dropped the antidote to her feet. It was too busy being redirected to something far more important. Years of self control and discipline shone through as she stooped for the vial, all previous emotions vanished from her face and she appeared unaffected by his concoctions. With an even stare, the vial was thrown back towards him. The toss was weaker than she would have liked, were she herself the vial would have shattered near his eye... There wasn't any way he would assume she was beyond the affects of what had just happened to her. This was a very clear statement, she needed him for one thing alone. It should remain that way. The knight's dark eyes flashed to his, showing she understood what was said and with the her remaining strength she apparated from his presence. Once in the safety of her own home she had no choice but to allow her weakness to control her. It was a long while before she could go about making the arrangement necessary for her accelerated recovery. The rest of her night was spent in a most uncomfortable manner. The repercussions of accepting his antidote, she knew, would have been far worse for her to deal with. There was a thin line between stupidity and honour. This, she felt, was neither. A very important part of her would have been lost had she allowed him to hold sway over her for too long. The woman's life was better run under her own means. It was not as though she could not obtain his cure through her own methods, nor would she be all that worse off because of it. A lengthy trial had a way of reminding a person of who they truly were, it had been awhile since she had been in any such a state and it would be good to remind herself of the how and the why. A reminder to be more careful in the future, a lesson, much like the ones she'd participated in as a child. They would make their move soon. The masked woman would be ready. |
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