Welcome Guest. Please Login or Register. Dec 25, 2009, 6:25pm
Celerum Academia
[CURRENT EVENTS:]
Rush Celerum Spring Semester ----
January 1st: New Year's Day January 19th: Classes Begin February 14th: St. Valentine's Day February 24th: Carnevale March 17th: St. Patrick's Day ----
(TOP THREADS) The Hunt's Preliminaries Red Sky At Night Drills Vampire Attack ----
{Island Location and Weather}
Stationary in the Bering Sea;
Icebergs and Frozen Waters -- 26 Degrees Fahrenheit
Welcome to Celerum Academia, the premiere magical university for all aspiring witches and wizards! Please take note of the information provided in our pamphlets to get a better idea of Celerum and what life here at the university is like. Submit an application today!
Note: Due to circumstances beyond our control, Celerum is currently closed for posting. The close is temporary, mind; the school shall be up and running again by the summer time. Until then, however, no one other than staff members will be allowed to log in to do some damage control. Don't worry, nothing will happen to your characters while we're on hiatus. A thousand apologies for the inconveniences we've caused. We promise to work as hard as we can to get our world turning again! If you have any questions or need further information, please email Hyphen at queenlibertine1@aol.com and she will get back to you as soon as she can.
Note Again: Celerum is undergoing some remodeling and should be back open for the Summer Term. Many apologies for any broken links or missing pictures that occur during the change. We'll do our best to make everything prefect again.
Re: The Downfall « Result #1 on Jul 21, 2009, 11:33pm »
The waitress brought their second round. She stayed bent over their small table longer than necessary. Dodger and Rowland ducked around her exposed cleavage for their beers. Sean stared. Mouth going slack.
When she left them with a smile, the other two snorted at Sean. He shrugged. “I’m not tethered to anyone.”
Sean froze then busied himself with his beer.
Dodger and Rowland looked away from each other. It took some effort and was not at all decrepit. The pub was surprisingly full this afternoon, filled mostly with men recently released from work. Rowland sat next to Dodger. Hard to avoid when it was only the three of them. The table had room for their drinks. If he wasn’t careful, Rowland bumped elbows with Dodger or knees with Sean.
The alcohol did its job, loosening limbs and relaxing defenses. They had been here a full half-hour and so far Rowland had not punched Dodger or vise versa. It was their most successful encounters to date.
Well it was. Stupid Sean.
Good for him for looking, but did he have to bring up their girlfriends? Dodger and he were only on good terms with they stuck to strict list of topics: Alcohol, hatred for Optimus, brooms, Eric’s stupidly in drills, alcohol, hatred for Optimus, etc. The list was small. They had to repeat topics often.
Note, girlfriends were not on the list. They were number one on the Do Not Talk About list. Well, really it was Dakota since Kira had done nothing wrong.
Rowland drank his beer. Nothing wrong. If Rowland was honest with himself most of his anger at Dodger stemmed from jealously. Dodger must know he was a lucky son of a bitch. He’d never have to make the choices Rowland had. Kira would never jeopardize her life for selfish reasons. The need to save Kira’s life would never flit across Dodger’s mind. He would never fight with himself over the decision to do so.
Yes, he was jealous. They had met each other’s families. Kira slung long necks to costumers at Dodger’s family pub in Boston. Dodger had stayed at the McOran estate in Ireland.
Rowland had never been to Texas. And there weren’t any parents in Florida for Dakota to meet. He supposed his grandparents would wish to meet her, but he had a difficult time imagining Dakota in the foyer of the Townsend Manor. There were maids and house elves and more rooms than people. Not to mention the society matrons his grandmother had tea with. Rowland shivered. They were very glib for old women.
Although he could accurately picture her there, Rowland did have the sense of pride he’d feel upon introducing her. But maybe parental introductions were something that only happened with fiancés. Dakota and he weren’t engaged. Now that Rowland had her, he wasn’t ever going to let her go. But there was something off about Dakota Sawyer, Fiancée.
Besides it would look hollow and gilded following the Engagement of the Golden Couple.
Of course Dodger would never understand Rowland’s choices. It was hard to understand something he’d never experience. Why did Dodger get all the luck? Was he brewing Felix Felicis?
Rowland sighed and set down his beer.
Stupid Sean. Was he compensating for Eric’s absent?
A thought occurred. “Where’s Eric?” The guy lived on the other side of the joint bathroom from him and yet Rowland hasn’t seen him in weeks. Not since that fight when Eric clipped him across the jaw. Why were his friends beating on him?
“I haven’t seen him. Did Tiger kill’em?” There, that was a safer topic.
Joined: Jan 2007 Gender: Male Posts: 41 Location: Bohemia
Re: The Downfall « Result #2 on Jul 19, 2009, 1:21am »
Dodger rose to his feet with all the grace of a train-wreck. After that ever-so-lovely fall from the platform, every bone in his limbs felt akimbo, even when he tried to hold them straight. The fall disoriented him, along with that split-second feeling of being shoved in plastic-wrap that heralded in apparation. He felt awkward.
Or maybe it had something to do with Optimus calling Rowland his boyfriend.
Yeah, that'll about do it.
One day, Dodger swore that he was going to give that man a piece of his mind. And in exchange, Optimus would probably hand Dodger a piece of his ass.
Oh well. Cést la vie.
Rowland landed with a flop next to him and proceeded to roll until he hit a tree, like some odd Floridian bowling ball. And of course, Optimus was there with the commentary, making them all feel like Class A failures. Dodger snorted as Rowland coughed up a piece of grass.
It gave him a bit of a thrill to see Rowland failing just as badly as he was at this--not because of any sadistic pleasure at the boy sucking, but just at the fact that they were, once again, the underdogs, pitted against Optimus and his torture sessions. Failing by yourself was no fun, but with Rowland doing just as badly, it made Dodger's mind immediately fog over with images from their past classes, them duking it out with the rest of their classmates, trying to please Optimus. It was a sense of camaraderie that only he and Rowland shared, and it was nice.
Well, it would've been nice, if Dodger still wasn't considering strangling him.
But apparently, he wasn't the only one experiencing sensations of old, because when Sean approached, he didn't just look at Dodger or at Rowland, but at both of them, as if they were one unit, one team, one mixed up person that was somehow better than each on their own.
Rowland had even shared a grin with him at the mention of the Triple A-grade brooms. Ah, there was a piece of wood he'd like to wrap his hands around and--
Dodger paused, his mind drifting up Optimus's accusation of homosexuality. He stopped the mental metaphor in its tracks and shuddered.
Ick.
“Dismissed!”
Dodger nearly winced at the stony edge in Optimus's voice. They had gotten off safely today, but even Helen Keller could see that Optimus was seething. Of course, far be it from a simple Boston boy to point out the utter impossibility of them apparating with only an approximate two-story length and distance to get it done in whilst falling through empty air. Apparating, by nature, was the art of moving through space and time. Ordering your students to move through space and time to a different location whilst falling through space and time made about as much sense as a leopard giving you a facial.
But would he tell Optimus that? Oh, no.
Dodger shook his head and watched Sean start to head away from the training area before Row waylaid him.
"Wait. You still owe me a Gold."
Dodger was about to ask what for, but he closed his mouth. He was not Rowland's friend anymore, and what did it matter?
Sean, however, looked sheepish and more than a little perturbed. Rowland through his arm around him and ordered them to a pub to spend his apparent winnings.
And then, with all the finesse and subtlety of a snake, Row tossed his head Dodger-ward and asked,
"You coming?"
Dodger looked at Rowland. Was this Rowland offering him the olive branch? Was he extending an invitation for old friends to maybe catch up, or was he just planning on giving Dodger another black eye for his trouble?
And what the hell did it mean?
However, luckily (or unluckily) before he could answer, another voice cut through the silence.
"Hammond."
Dodger winced. Of course he just couldn't make a clean getaway. He spun to see Optimus standing in front of him. Oh, he looked so pissed.
"Professor?"
Optimus inclined his head elegantly.
"You dropped your wand after that graceful display of flailing midair. Go retrieve it."
Dodger nodded and moved past Optimus.
Yes, sir. Just bend over a moment so I can dislodge it from your posterior.
Dodger's wand, which had been in the back pocket of his jeans, lay in the grass where he had fallen. At least he wasn't broken. Thank Merlin for small favors.
"Your performance today was quite appalling, Hammond. That goes for you, Misters Townsend and Hall as well."
Dodger, tucking his wand ruefully in his back pocket, moved back to where Optimus was standing. How come he had called them 'Mister' and he just got the Last-Name-Only Treatment? It's not like their falls were any more ugly than his had been.
"It's impossible, sir." Sean sounded sad. "I don't think anyone can do that."
Rowland crossed his arms and pressed his fist to his brow, shaking his head. Dodger sighed. Sean was such an idiot.
"Really, now." Optimus's words were light. His slate-colored eyes danced to Dodger, who tried not to squirm under their unyielding glint. "And you, Hammond? Do you think I would assign my students an impossible feat?"
Dodger blinked.
"Do I look stupid, Professor?"
Optimus looked at him. Dodger bit his lip.
"Maybe I should rephrase that..."
"Clarification would be welcome, Mister Hammond."
Oh, I hate you.
Instead, Dodger wisely said, "I don't think you'd give us a task that was impossible, sir. But still. It's very hard."
Optimus studied him as if he were a fascinating experiment under a Petri dish. After a moment he sighed, and with a blink and a crack, he disappeared.
Dodger looked up towards the platform to see Optimus standing there. With his scarlet robes billowing about his frame, Optimus jumped. After only a second in the air, he vanished with another crack, only to materialize in a heartbeat on the ground below the platform.
Dodger glanced over at Sean. He was staring. From his left, he heard Rowland snort again.
"Committing yourself to the Aurory also means committing yourself to absolute excellence," Optimus said, approaching them again. "While the task is daunting, it is only one of many that you will face when being tested for entrance to the agency. Apparating in mid-air requires quick-thinking, agility, and complete control over your magic--as does many other tasks you will face."
Dodger rubbed at his temples. He was starting to get the kind of headache he usually reserved for vampire attacks.
"Yes, sir. It just...seems silly, having twenty people jump off a two-story platform for as a precursor to Triple A exams. A lot of bad things can happen. Murphy's Law, after all."
Optimus raised an eyebrow.
"I am unfamiliar with the reference."
"If anything can go wrong, it will," Rowland supplied.
"A fine example of twentieth century muggle pessimism," Dodger added.
Optimus was giving him that Petri dish-look again.
"Are you a muggle, Mister Hammond?"
"No, sir," Dodger bit out from clenched teeth.
"Strange. Your attempts at wizardry moments ago were absolutely horrendous, and here you are invoking bizarre muggle mantras. Are you certain?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. I would hate to think I was wasting my valuable time instructing the talentless." Optimus paused. "And this Murphy of yours, whomever he was, is an imbecile."
Dodger heard Sean chuckle. He gave Optimus a half-smile, and it was almost returned, letting Dodger know that all was forgiven.
"I expect to see you at my next session--all of you," Optimus said firmly, looking down his nose at the trio. "And I sincerely hope that your performances next time will not be as dismal. Perhaps I should outlaw all healing spells for the duration of my drills. Maybe that will prove incentive enough for my students to get it done properly."
Dodger absently rubbed his bruised stomach, a swirl of foreboding entering his body.
"Next week, gentlemen," Optimus said, and with another crack, he vanished.
The three boys all breathed sighs of relief.
Dodger was silent for a moment, and then he turned to face Rowland, whose face was carefully not betraying anything.
"So...let's go get our drink on, Row."
For the briefest of moments, Dodger saw his (ex) friend's muddy eyes warm familiarly, and he couldn't stop a goofy grin from appearing as they set off towards the courtyard.
Re: The Downfall « Result #3 on Jul 19, 2009, 12:12am »
Optimus turned his hawk eyes upon them. Those at the front of the crowd took a step back, treading on their peers’ feet. Sometimes Rowland wondered if Optimus wasn’t a dark wizard masquerading around as a first rate Auror. He seemed to get too much joy out of torturing them. Perhaps it was their final test, defeat their professor and drag him into AMA for instant acceptance into the AAA. Not that there was a chance in Hell that Rowland would voluntarily duel Optimus. He currently enjoyed the attachment of all limbs.
So, it was with these thoughts that Rowland willed himself to shrink a few inches and try to hide behind Dodger’s thicker build. Just as he ducked down, Optimus spotted him.
“Hammond!”
Dodger started as if slapped. Rowland snorted with delight.
Dodger shuffled through he group to the edge of the platform.
Sean filled his vacated spot. “Think he’ll manage it this time?”
“There’s no way.”
“You sound sure.”
Rowland nodded. “I know he won’t.”
Sean arched an eyebrow. “Put coin on it?”
“A Gold.” Rowland stuck out his wand hand.
“A Gold.” Sean put out his hand then pulled it up. “By the end of today’s lesson.”
“Deal.” They shock using their wand hands. “Thanks for the money, Hall.”
Optimus snapped at Dodger to get on with it. Dodger jumped off from the platform, pushing away as if leaping into a swimming pool. Sean and Rowland elbowed their ways towards the platform’s edge and looked over.
“He’s gonna do it!”
For a spilt second Rowland thought he might be out a Gold. He knew Dodger’s spell signature. Knew the essence of his apparation. Rowland sensed it flare. That prick was going to do it.
Thud.
“Not today.” Rowland laughed.
Dodger had landed rather awkwardly: face and chest pressed into earth, while his ass was pushed up. Rowland bit his tongue to keep from calling down a comment. For one reason, Optimus would pitch him off next. And another, he hated Dodger, he reminded himself.
Down on the ground, Dodger moaned and rolled over to look at from where he had fallen. Next to him Sean was scowling, clearly disappointed in Dodger’s performance. Rowland fought to control his features. Neutrality was best. Dodger rubbed at his chest and then—Rowland wasn’t positive, but he thought that the other man grinned back.
Was that allowed?
Rowland looked to Sean for conformation. And found Optimus.
“Find something amusing, Townsend?”
“No, sir.”
Sean flitted away. It was only him and Optimus now along the platform’s edge.
“Then you are bored, Townsend?”
Rowland swallowed. “No, sir.”
“Well your boyfriend is lonely down there. Care to join him?”
There were muffled (sort of) snorts and laughter from the group.
“Sir…yes, sir.” Rowland didn’t even wait. He threw himself off, only slightly hoping the fall might kill him.
A part of Rowland thought the platform wasn’t high enough. Two stories of freefall wasn’t enough time to gather himself together enough to apparate away. But maybe that was the point? Well, he’ll be damned if he couldn’t say he tried. Flailing his arms, Rowland tried to upright himself. He had always apparate standing before, never lying about, so this made sense. Trying to ignore the rush of wind at his ears, Rowland concentrated on pushing himself out of existence. There was the pressure. He checked his height.
Too close!
He acted, throwing out his arms and magically slowing his decent. With his own thud Rowland hit the ground and then rolled several times until he came to a stop.
The world spun. There were vague noises. It might have been Optimus yelling at him. He flopped over then pushed himself up. He had gotten very close to the target.
“This is not gymnastics!”
Tumbling got him no points. Rowland swayed on his feet and had to prop himself against a tree where he sneezed and coughed until he snorted a blade of grass out of his nose.
“That can’t be healthy.”
Across the field, Dodger was bent over, hands on his knees. Rowland wasn’t sure if he was catching his breath or laughing. The latter most likely.
Rowland staggered towards him. Not to joke. But because his direction was closer to the platform. At the top, Optimus was calling students forward to jump. They fell in single file like chicks pushed from a nest. Optimus wasn’t even watching. He simply waited for the sound of body compacting into earth and called the next person forward.
Sean wobbled over to them, fixing his own bleeding nose. “The rumors better be true.”
“What have you heard?” Rowland asked.
“We’re getting out-fitted for brooms come Fall semester.”
“Really?” Dodger asked, stepping closer.
“So I’ve heard.”
The three of them looked to Optimus. Brooms. Auror standard brooms. Dodger and Rowland had big, goofy grins on their faces. None of the brooms on the market even compared to those issued exclusively for the AAA. Rowland had been iching for a new one, too. His use to be top of the line, but it was years old now. Same with Dodger’s. Which the other boy better remember Rowland had gotten for him several Christmases ago.
“Dismissed!” Optimus called out.
It looked like a battle field. Bodies littered the ground, all of them moaning and twitching. A few had managed to splinch themselves nicely. But everyone seemed grateful to be done for the day.
Rowland cracked his neck. He was looking forward to a nice hot shower then crawling into bed where Dakota could work him loose again.
“Wait.”
Sean froze a few steps from them.
“You owe me a Gold.”
Sean cursed.
Rowland caught up with him, slinging an arm around his shoulder. “And I think I want it in the form of a stiff drink. To the pub, my good sir!”
Joined: Mar 2007 Gender: Male Posts: 42 Location: Canadia
Re: The Downfall « Result #4 on Jul 17, 2009, 8:28pm »
Eric panted as he ran back up the steps to the top of the platform.
This was the definition of insanity. Doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result.
Well, that explains a lot. Optimus is just insane. It's all making sense now. He thought as he chuckled to himself, causing him to slow down slightly and earning him a "Pearson if you don't get to the top in 30 seconds I'm dropping you from the program" from Optimus.
For a name like that he sure didn't make people feel optimistic at all.
It actually proved to be a bit of a let down for Eric, he'd been hoping his freshman year when he signed up he'd end up with some nice, friendly, encouraging teacher who saw the best in everybody...
"Pearson! Move it!"
Another reason to switch majors. I think too much for this, it slows me down. Well, admittedly it about a lot of random things that don't matter, actually this train of thought is kind of a great example... And great, now that I'm at the top I can fall dramatically and threaten to break my skull open... again. Just what I wanted to do with my morning. I hate this class.
Luckily for him he was a good healer because he wasn't even attempting to apparate anymore. If Rowland couldn't even do it there was no way he was going to be able to, so why bother splinching himself again. After all, it wasn't exactly a pleasant experience. But, then again neither was crashing to the ground off a two story platform... but his options were few to say the least.
This is how he found himself repetitively jumping off a two story platform and smashing into mother earth. Maybe Optimus wasn't the crazy one. Maybe it was him.
"Gah! Jeasus Murphy! Fuckin' Damn It!" That hadn't been a good one. During most of his falls he'd managed to just break a finger, occasionally an arm, this time however he landed smack on his face and he felt his nose snap against what appeared to be a particularly knotty root.
His eyes watered as he reached up to feel the bloody geyser his nose had magically transformed into when it came to that abrupt halt. He laid there for a minute before literally rolling out of the way so the next victim could fall violently without landing on top of him.
The pain was blinding. There really was nothing worse than breaking your nose. Seriously, there was no way any woman would agree to getting pregnant more than once if childbirth was even half this painful. Hell, Tiger would probably kill him if contributed in any way to pain like this.
Tiger. Shit. What the hell had he been thinking? It was as he lay there curled up on the ground that he realized it. He he was definitely not insane. He wasn't doing this expecting a different result. He expected to hurt himself every single time, to break bones, and quite frankly he deserved it. Dodger was right. He needed to man up and tell Tiger. And until he did, he sure as hell wasn't going to make being a coward easy...
But fuck did his nose really did kill.
Just then a leg appeared to the right of the tree in front of him. Just a leg. Had to be another splinching. Optimus appeared, snatched it up and yelled, "For Christ's sakes Pearson, get up, it's a nose. Fix it already." He strode off muttering as Hall walked over and magic-ed the geyser that was his snoz back to normal. He could feel his bone align with a painful snap that made his eyes water once more more.
"So, who was it this time," he asked Sean as he wiped the blood off his chin and onto the sleeve of his robe, looking towards the figure Optimus was leaning over.
"Caden, he was close but not that close." Sean replied, before adding pointedly, "At least he's trying though."
"I am trying!" Eric said defensively.
"Ya, whatever you say man." Was all he got from Sean as left to make his way back over to the platform again.
He continued staring at the scene as a dizzy, disoriented, Caden was led towards his tree to rest for a minute by an agitated Optimus.
"If your not going to try you can at least hold him up for a minute while he comes to." Optimus said as he shook his head disapprovingly and handed Caden over to him.
"Honestly, mudblood..." Caden choked as he began to cough up the tiniest bits of blood, "Why do you even bother?"
"You realize I'm the only thing holding you up right now, right?"
"You'd never drop me." Caden spat, "You don't have the nerve."
And as much as he wanted to disagree, Eric knew he was right. He didn't think it had to do with nerve though, as much as basic human decency. "I think it might be worse for you to have to touch me. Mudblood remember? Who knows it might be contagious."
Eric smirked as Caden jerked away from him as he regained strength. Leaning on the tree for support now he said, "Why are you even here? Your own friends, and I use the word lightly, know you are never going to make the cut. Your pathetic. No nerve."
Caden limped away back towards the platform, ready and willing to throw himself off it again. Insanity.
He couldn't help wondering why everything always came back to courage with him. Was he really that much of a wimp?
Ya. The answer couldn't have been any clearer.
At least before he'd fucked up with Tiff, he'd had respect for his morality. A wuss, but a cute, sweet wuss. Now he was an idiot and a coward. Just what he'd always wanted.
He new he had to tell her. He couldn't live this way. Avoiding her because he felt so guilty. He had to break out of this cycle. He wasn't going to play this insane game anymore. No more living a lie, and no more jumping just to fall.
He had to set everything straight. Start with something simple. Something easy. Something more manageable than talking to Tiger. Like his major. He wanted to heal, no matter how stupid people thought it was, he liked it. He didn't want to do this anymore, if he ever really had to begin with, and it was time he fixed that. Time he made his own choices.
He felt just a little better as he strode across the lawns back towards the school in the middle of the lesson. A little more in control of his life. He was done trying to be what everyone else was.
He couldn't help but laugh a little bit though as he heard Hurst yelp in the distance - he was terrified of heights poor guy. But Eric had to admit it was kinda cool that people would no he didn't just quit because he was worst, cause today that was definitely Hurst's title.
« Last Edit: Jul 18, 2009, 1:51am by Eric Pearson »
Joined: Mar 2007 Gender: Male Posts: 42 Location: Canadia
Re: The Truth Comes Out « Result #5 on Jul 17, 2009, 5:11pm »
"Good morning, handsome." As he felt Tigers lips brush softly against his own a shudder ran down his spine and out through the tips of his fingers and toes. This was exactly why he had been avoiding her. Telling her was going to be hard enough. Did she have to start the meeting like nothing was wrong? Weren’t women supposed to have a 6th sense about this kind of thing? Well, no matter what it made him feel even worse. At least if she was mad at him or treating him he wouldn’t feel so much guilt, or so much temptation to just continue lying by omission. A he looked at her gently sparkling eyes and pushed the hair back out of her face he knew no matter what he did he couldn’t bear to lie to her anymore.
It’d been a week since he’d returned from his tip home and every time he’d seen her he’d stuck around just long enough to convince her everything was alright before he bolted. His excuses were getting weaker and weaker though, he’d actually said he needed to hit the gym after a rushed lunch a few days ago because he couldn’t think of anything else to say that would be even remotely reasonable, and even then he’d gotten a disbelieving eyebrow raise from Tiger. She wasn’t stupid after all. Optimus had been pushing him to hit the gym more often for the past how many years now, and all the sudden he was taking his advice and hitting the gym outside his normal schedule? Ya… right…
It was for the best really, he couldn’t keep this up. He missed his Tiger. His Tiff.
I just never wanted to be one more person who’ll hurt you, no matter how sorry I am now that it’s done.
He wanted to tell her everything right now. All at once. Just spill himself open and let this whole stupid, ridiculous situation flow out be told already. How do you tell someone you love you, you think you love, no you’re damn near sure you love – if they love you back of course…it was all too possible she didn’t love him back – but how do you tell them that you love them but you betrayed there trust, that your actions didn’t reflect that love in any way, shape, or form, but that you do love them… you really do!
I don’t even know where to start. Am I supposed to tell the story first? If I do that though she might think I’m making excuses… But if I apologize first she won’t know what’s going on and she could assume it’s something worse… God, what could be worse? I didn’t just kiss somebody else I slept with somebody else. There really is nothing worse…
Apology it is.
”Shall we then?” She was smiling as his gaze returned to meet hers. It had been so long since he’d seen her. They’d talked during exams every once in a while, he certainly didn’t care about exams but she’d always seemed to have been busy, and right afterwards he’d left for Canada and they’d talked by flew and owl a bit. Eric was terrible about long distance stuff, always worried he’d come off as needy if they talked too much or a jerk if they didn’t talk enough… And then he’d done it. Once he’d returned all he could do was try to stay busy and see if he could get over it without telling her.
Obviously that plan was working wonderfully. That’s what he had to cling to though. The fact that it wasn’t working. He shied away from her, clinging to that fact. He wanted her so badly. But not like this. Not with this lie separating them.
He made his way over to fountain in the opposite direction, sat down, and waited for Tiger to join him.
“I need you to do something for me.” He looked into her eyes seriously, she looked completely confused. “I need you to…” he tailed off and teared up a bit, she raised an eyebrow, opening her mouth to speak but he cut her off, “I need you to just listen to me. Can you do that?”
He didn’t even hear her answer, he couldn’t look into those eyes anymore, she was so beautiful and so fragile. She put on this hard, always-ok exterior, tried to protect herself from feeling anything, but it didn’t work like that. No one is that good, that in control, not forever at least.
When she was quiet again he sat there, wanting to start talking but not able to, not just yet. He couldn’t gather his thoughts right. He couldn’t just babble, with Row he could just fall apart, but he wanted to do this better with her. He needed to do this right for her.
“Thanks for coming. I want you to know that I’m sorry.” He paused, watching her. That was it, he couldn’t watch her. He couldn’t watch her eyes as she realized why she was here. He couldn’t see the pain he had caused; he was too much of a wimp for that.
“I need you to know that I regret this with every bone in my body. And I would give anything to take it back.” He was staring at the flowers, feeling the breeze that made the tulips tremble play with his shaggy hair. A bee was flitting around, so he watched it as he spoke.
“I… I… I made a mistake. A stupid mistake and I’m mad at myself. I don’t want to be just another person who put you threw the ringer.” He looked at her for a minute and then looked down, staring at his feet. Why couldn’t he just spit it out?
« Last Edit: Jul 19, 2009, 2:02am by Eric Pearson »
Joined: Jan 2007 Gender: Male Posts: 41 Location: Bohemia
Re: The Downfall « Result #6 on Jul 17, 2009, 1:49am »
"I've never cheated on an exam here at Celerum."
Dodger groaned, his head lolling forward until it was buried in his arms. The tip of his bottle of firewhiskey nudged his ear from where he was clutching it at the neck in his right hand.
"I wish I'd never met you, you golden boy bitch."
Sean actually smacked his lips together.
"Mmm. Tastes like victory." Dodger took a long gulp of his firewhiskey and glared around the table. Sean was doing remarkably well, but then again, he and Eric were passing around a bottle of very weak ass vodka. Sean smirked at him and went on. "Dude, you asked for a bit of distraction from a routine summer, so here you go."
Hmm. Routine summer--that was the nice way of putting it, Dodger supposed. In fact, the entire year had been routine, mishaps with cousins and supposed best-friends aside. Quite plainly, Dodger was bored.
No, really.
Always one for biting the hand that fed him, Dodger had, at the beginning of the year, continued his Auror training, despite the fact that Optimus had nearly ended the deal with that little vampire incident. Dodger was in no mood to get further into the man's hair than absolutely necessary; he was still nursing wounds from that excursion in the woods before the four of them had ditched the popsicle stand had hid in the past for the duration of the hunt. That training session had been utter bullshit, verbally and physically. His reflexes were still off and his pride still bruised from the lashing that Optimus gave him.
Sure, Dodger respected Optimus. Hell, he knew the man was twice the Auror that he'd even hope to become. To stand in Optimus's shadow was a privilege; he was being taught by the very best Aurory standards.
He was just in no mood to get his ego handed to him on a silver platter again.
So, in the spirit of not causing undue trouble to himself or to his respected teacher, Dodger decided that he would spend this particular term at Celerum furthering his Auror education by studying the more theoretical aspects of the AMA, the mechanics of raids, the intricacies in planning reconnaissance and espionage. It was time for less action and more reading. Besides, he'd been putting off the more academic side of becoming one of the Aurory's finest for too long.
Dodger soon discovered that Aurory protocol inside of a classroom was something else entirely when compared with the action-packed trials and exercises that Optimus would put them through in practicals.
After nearly falling asleep in during one of Optimus's protocol lecterns, Dodger decided it was time to rectify the boredom situation.
Sadly, there was nothing happening. Nothing. Silas and his brood had gone practically underground after that Hunt business. The shady side-deals and under-handed business transactions in Oxbay were dull and simplistic. Hell, there was even a pause in action on the mainland: the werewolves and the vampires had temporarily ended their skirmishes to convene at a conference with the President's cabinet, hoping to settle some of their differences.
So there was, quite literally, not a damn interesting thing happening these days. The Peace and Prosperity Scare of 2009, Dodger sarcastically called it in his head.
And it was driving him up the fucking wall.
"Do you think we could take 'em?" Dodger had asked Sean one afternoon after a way-too-easy final exam in Magical Fauna.
"Take who, dude?"
"The vampires," Dodger said certainly. "I mean, Celerum and the Headmaster are back on the playing field again after that disaster with the Hunt. Nobody here was really hurt. We've got the numbers. Do you think we could handle a good period of ass-kicking with the blood suckers; stir things up a little bit?"
Sean had frowned.
"I don't see how this is relevant, Dodger. There isn't a hint of a vampire battle on the horizon."
"Well, Sean," Dodger said slowly, seriously, "if I don't get something to do soon, I just might start one."
Problem was, he was as serious as a heart attack, and Sean knew it, too.
Hall, bless his heart, had tried everything to distract him. They, sometimes along with Eric, frequented the Cellar Door, drinking and dancing until they passed out. They walked through Oxbay at night, wands at the ready, even though Hall didn't want to have anything to do with it, but not one sailor or merchant gave them a look. Hell, Dodger had even talked Hall into having a picnic in Dante's Woods and waiting for a stray manticore to pop up.
Nothing worked, and Dodger itched with unused adrenaline.
Thankfully, Kira was there to help him work off excess energy, but something about her had seemed a little bit off since the bridge incident. Dodger was going through life like nobody's business (he was not going to let Row, that son of a bitch, and Dakota ruin his year by their little hissy fit) but Kira had been affected by the goings on. Moreover, that little bout of her playing oracle wasn't an isolated incident. Sometimes, she'd wake up, covered in sweat and murmuring in a language that sounded distinctly Russian before Dodger had to snap her out of it. She was being distant and secretive, and the episodes of future flash-forwards were becoming more and more frequent.
Dodger was concerned, but Kira continually waved him off, not wanting to discuss what she'd Seen. He couldn't blame her, really; it must've been one helluva burden. He was there to hold her at night and there to kiss her in the morning, but beyond that, Dodger didn't overstep his boundaries. He knew Kira was a very independent girl--always had been--and when she was ready, she'd have a little sit-down with him. But until then, there was little Dodger could do to help.
He started to wonder if the future visions had anything to do with what had happened on the bridge. After all, she'd said she'd Seen he and Rowland make up. But even though the loss of his friendship had affected them both, Dodger didn't seriously think it was enough to give Kira nightmares.
He waited patiently for his fianceé to be ready, and meanwhile distracted himself with Eric and Sean.
Merlin above love them, they were sweet kids. They weren't Rowland--hell, nobody could replace Rowland fucking Townsend--but they'd have to do. Sean had started out as a sycophant, but was learning to become his own person. Eric, who had to be the most wussy guy he'd known, was slowly growing a set. Dodger, secretly, had felt pleased with himself that the boys had chosen his side more often than not. Sean and Eric really harbored no illwill towards Dakota, and Dodger didn't begrudge them that, but they were with him almost constantly when they weren't in class or buried in books, which meant that they didn't see much of Row.
It was a silent, unspoken victory, the winning over of the two men to his side, but Dodger was sure to let it shine in his brown eyes whenever he and Rowland pretended to acknowledge each other in passing.
But as a dull spring term slowly morphed into an ungodly boring summer, Dodger began to feel Rowland's loss more keenly. Every now and again, he caught himself wanting to make a witty statement over his left shoulder to Row only to find that the boy wasn't there. When he was with Sean and Eric, there was a feeling of incompleteness, of something very vital missing, and it was only growing as time passed.
But boredom and missing his friend aside, Dodger was making due. He and Kira were spending the summer on Celerum--at least, the first part of it--Kira doing research and Dodger just chilling out, because seriously? Things would've been even more boring at home, and he wanted time to spend with his girl.
Unfortunately, the boredom and inactivity from the term only passed over to the summer, and by the last week of May, Dodger was ready to beat his head against the wall.
Jesus H. Christ, what the fuck was going on with the world?
So one very dull Saturday evening, the trio had headed down to the Astronomy Pavillion for some booze and some guy-time. Games of poker had slowly morphed into the ever-popular Academy game of 'I've Never'.
It was such a female thing to do, but hell, it was a change of pace, so Dodger allowed it.
And currently, he was getting his ass handed to him. He'd simply done too much, lived life. Hall and Pearson were in diapers compared to his life experiences, and Dodger had never wished so much for Row to be there with him to even the odds.
He was halfway through his second bottle of firewhiskey and the other two were still nursing half a bottle of vodka between them. Suddenly, a thought came to him, and Dodger smirked.
"I've never lived outside of the United States."
This time, it was Eric's turn to groan, and he gingerly took a gulp of the vodka. Licking his lips, he grinned. "Genuine imported stuff--Sean, you're a magician."
"Or just your average businessmen."
"How can you drink that stuff?" Dodger made a disgusted face.
"Don't knock it 'till you've tried it, Hammond."
"I have tried it, and it taste like exhaust-engine coolant."
"Heathen," Eric snapped before thinking. "I've never had sexual fantasies about a professor."
"Son of a bitch, are you two trying to get me drunk?" Dodger snapped irritably before downing another gulp.
"And they say the Irish can hold their liquor," Sean murmured.
"I can, idiot. I'm just saying--ganging up on me isn't nice."
"Come on, Dodger, don't be a killjoy. You wanted something different, so here it is."
Dodger glared at Eric, and then smirked.
"I've never cheated on the woman I love."
Ah, that got him. Eric's face crumbled like a chocolate bar and he buried his face in his hands and muttered a weak little, "Jesus," from behind his fingers. Sean patted him on the back affectionately.
"Still haven't told her, have you?" Dodger shook his head. "Row was right for letting you have it. You deserved it."
"Come on, Dodger. So he made a mistake--Row laying a fist into his jaw doesn't make it better, especially since Rowland is kinda the pot calling the kettle black."
"That wasn't a fist he hit Eric with, Hall," Dodger said, slurping at his alcohol, "it was irony."
"God, what am I gonna do?" Eric asked no one in particular.
"Eric--Eric! Look at me, dude." Slowly, Eric lowered his hands from his face, and his eyes met Dodger's. "Here's what you do. You march your rear into the Infirmary and grab the nearest Healer. Ask him to find the ghostly outline where your balls used to be and then plead with him to stitch another pair back on."
There was silence for a moment, and then Eric's face grew red. Just as he moved forward, Dodger stood up and shook his head.
"You're pathetic, man. Thanks for this, but I'm done. And don't even try to hit me, Eric. I'll wipe the floor with your ass."
And with that, Dodger stalked off, irritated.
God, he missed Rowland.
After that bout with the boys, Dodger left himself to his own devices. He scoured the school, looking for something, anything, to alleviate his boredom. Two afternoons later, he happened upon the Dark Arts building to find a flier posted to the bulletin board.
Dodger stared at it for a moment, eyes scanning it, and then he sighed.
Oh well. So much for not biting the hand that feeds him. Dodger was signing his name to the bottom of the sheet within seconds, muttering an apology to whomever was listening for lying about staying out of Optimus's hair.
Just as he was turning to go, he nearly bumped headlong into Rowland, whose eyes were fixed on the bulletin.
For a second, Dodger's heart didn't beat. A flurry of emotions danced through his body, and until the wind settled, he didn't dare speak.
"Hey." Rowland's tone was almost dead.
"Hey yourself." God, this was awkward. "Er--you gonna sign up?"
Rowland gave a half-hearted shrug, then reached for the quill tied to the board.
"Why not? I need a distraction." When Rowland was finished signing his name, he lingered.
They stared at each other. Then, they began to talk.
Unfortunately, they weren't really saying anything.
In hindsight, Dodger wasn't sure how it happened. He couldn't even remember what it is they were not saying, but whatever it was, it pissed him off.
He uppercutted the ever-loving fuck out of Rowland's jaw.
Rowland barely staggered. Dodger stepped back, surprised at his own anger.
Rowland wiped the blood away from his lip and looked at Dodger.
He blinked.
Dodger blinked back.
So did several freshmen and sophomore students who happened to be in the vicinity.
Rowland, for an instant, looked like he wanted to retaliate, but he only rubbed the back of his neck and then turned and walked away. Dodger stared after him, and then he shook his head.
Jesus fucking Christ, they weren't meant to fight one another. They couldn't even do it properly!
Dodger decided to dine in Cenaculum with the remaining student body, but he showed up to dinner a good ten minutes late. Nobody looked up when he entered--word traveled fast during the summer months because there were usually less than a hundred students that hung around to endure the summer at the school. However, nobody even looked up at him when he came in.
In fact they all, quite pointedly, did not look.
Dodger scanned the cafeteria until his gaze met Rowland's. Row was seated at a table with a few other Iuvants, Dakota nowhere in sight.
Dodger glared at him. Rowland blinked innocently and shrugged. Dodger decided to let it go. After all, it wasn't Row's fault that he decided to pitch a spaz in front of a bunch of underclassmen chatter-boxes.
The next time they spoke to one another was at Optimus's first little shindig. The first day had been rather like a summer camp to Dodger--well, as summer-campy as Optimus was ever likely to get. He outlined what he would try to teach them over the summer, what their focus would be and how it would correlate to real-life situations, and Optimus had called it to an early end.
Dodger blinked. Optimus hadn't even made them do drills.
Was the whole fucking world going insane?
This time, Rowland approached Dodger. His face was open, although it wasn't warm or welcoming.
For a minute, he and Dodger just stared at each other.
Then, there was the soul-shattering pain of one of Row's talented fists connecting with his eye. Dodger staggered and clutched his face, looking up blindly at Rowland, who again, only shrugged.
"Payback's a bitch."
And then, like the fucking Matrix, he was off.
Dodger knew he should've been angry. He should've been seething. But instead, he only chuckled and headed to go visit Kira, who turned out to be angry enough for them both.
It was too familiar, Dodger realized during another lesson of Optimus's. This time, they were having to hurl themselves off a two-story high platform, apparate in mid-air, and then land on the ground without touching it first.
...Um, yeah. Okay.
But it was too familiar, and Dodger knew it. They were picture perfect during class, the usual dream time, but after that mea-culpa with the eye versus lip thing, Dodger had actually gone for a walk with Rowland, Hall flanking them, as if mediating the meeting. There, again, really wasn't much said, but they didn't lay hands on one another. They did get into a bit of a shouting match, though, but even still...the familiarity was startling.
Even when they were fighting, he and Rowland were falling into a perfect kind of unity. In a crazy way, they worked. It was their MO, really. Dodger shot, Row dodged. There were constant do-overs and then the fight would end with an errant student busting it up, Sean starting in with the trade-mark commentary, or a professor coming by and nailing their asses to the wall, so to speak.
Even though it worked, it wasn't the same, and Dodger knew it. What Rowland did to him still hurt, but Dodger knew it was more pride than anything else. He was angry that Rowland hadn't trusted him, that he had chosen Dakota over him.
But as Dodger studied his friends face as the line progressed, back onto the platform for another free-fall experience, he realized that maybe, just maybe, Row missed him as much as he missed Row. He certainly wasn't as happy as he had been before everything had fallen apart.
Dodger wasn't sure what to do about it. A part of him still wanted Dakota's blood in a goblet and Row along with it, but another part of him was just too damned tired of being bored. He wanted that excitement of having his other half around back, and he was tired of being petulant about it.
But was Dodger going to be the first to speak seriously about a reunion?
Fuck no.
"Hammond!"
Dodger winced, and from behind him, he was sure he heard Rowland snort.
"Some things always stay the same," Dodger muttered before stepping up to the edge of the platform. He closed his eyes.
"Are you preparing to dive or to apparate, Hammond? Enough with the theatrics! Jump!"
Dodger sucked in a deep breath and hurled his body off the platform.
For a second, the world compressed as if it were going to work, and then--
THUD.
Dodger was eating grass. He turned over, his ribs practically crying from the pain, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Optimus rub at his right temple with a finger.
Dodger's eyes scanned the platform to find Row looking down at him, trying not to laugh.
The Downfall « Result #7 on Jul 16, 2009, 11:48pm »
[June 15th]
Who ever remarked that the grass could be soft had never fallen from a two-story platform. Repetitively.
“Again!” Optimus ordered.
“This has to be torture,” Dodger said.
He stood above Rowland, brushing dirt from his clothes. It did nothing to improve his appearance. A dark stain spread down his jeans from his right knee. His forearms were covered in rising bruises, still shallow and yellow hued. Mud stained his chest and face.
Dodger had a black eye as well, but that was from Rowland.
Several months had passed since the confutation on the bridge. A full season. Spring semester had only ended two weeks prior. It would be nice to say that after the fight the boys had gone back to normal. Kira herself had had a vision attesting to their fixed friendship. Surely that was proof enough to let bygones be bygones.
“I think,” Rowland grunted, pushing himself up, “that by volunteering for summer drills, we gave consent.” He spat dirt onto the ground. Spittle flecked Dodger’s boots.
If this was a story, they’d be fast friends again with everything resolved and forgotten. They would have helped each other up, jive about falling techniques. But sometimes even though you love your brother, you could hate him too. Dodger was closer than family. That didn’t mean Rowland didn’t want to punch him some days.
They joined the queue for the latter back onto the platform. Majority of the Auror Academy had signed up when Optimus had offered summer drills. If Optimus had his way, they’d never stop training. Eric wasn’t with them this morning on the first day of drills. Rowland wondered vaguely if the other man had actually believed Optimus to be putting forth a mere suggest. But Eric and he weren’t exactly on perfect terms anymore either.
It seemed that once he finally secured Dakota again, Rowland lost everybody else for whom he cared. As he climbed the latter, he tried to convince himself that she was enough. He had fought so hard to capture her and keep her. He thought he’d be willing to sacrifice everything for her. But he missed his friends. Rowland missed the effortlessness. Now he guarded his words. This only made him tensed and agitated, so he became explosive. Which explained Dodger’s black eye. Not that the other man was much better. Rowland ran his tongue across the cut in his lip.
In Optimus’s presence they were almost normal. They’d complain, gripe, run through the obstacle course. They’d push themselves to be better than the others, better than each other, better than Caden. At water breaks they could easily mock the worst times, laughing at stupid mistakes. It was anywhere else that gave them issues. They weren’t distracted enough to not remember that they hated each other. If Optimus noticed a deficiency in their partnership, he didn’t draw attention to it.
At the top everyone bunched together in the center as though fearful Optimus might start pitching him or her off for incompetence. Then again, Rowland figured, as he sandwiched himself between Dodger and female Iuvant, the Auror students had suffered worse in previous drills.
“I’m not asking you to tame dragons.” Optimus paced slowly along the edge. “Merely jump from the platform and apparate into the target before hitting the ground.”
He gestured off to the right were a evanescent oval indicated their intended landing zone. It was twenty yards away. When they had first climbed onto the platform, everyone has laughed at the ease of their instructions. “You’re to apparate from here to the there without touching the ground.” Too simple. They should have known better. Nobody had succeeded yet and the had thrown themselves off the platform at least two dozen times now. Rowland was the closest. He had splinched himself three times now; Dodger, only twice.
“Jump then Apparate. Not flail in the air, Hurst!”
Rowland and Dodger snorted. Hurst, the poor sod, was scared of heights. Each time he jumped, he squealed like a schoolgirl finding a spider. The boys grinned at each other. It could have been any other semester. Rowland looked for Eric to congratulate him on not being the worst, but couldn’t find him. His face fell. Dodger looked away.
Was it always going to be this way with his partner? They trusted one another. Well… Rowland trusted that Dodger did not want him dead. But this half-assed partnership was starting to talk its toll. Rowland missed his best friend. His brother.
Joined: Mar 2007 Gender: Female Posts: 25 Location: In Sanity
Re: The Truth Comes Out « Result #8 on Jul 16, 2009, 8:18pm »
Tiger pushed a long, stray lock of her ebony hair out of her face before setting this morning's copy of The Oracle down on the table. She leaned back into her chair, shaking her head.
"Ruddy cheery bit o' news, innit?"
Dakota eyed her darkly from over the top of her cup of coffee. Taking a sip, she gave a half-hearted tilt of her head towards the newspaper.
"What do you make of it?"
Tiger was silent for a long moment, and then she shook her head again.
"It's always my country," she muttered.
"Technically speaking, Hazel Rabinovich is from Russia."
"To hell with your technicalities," Tiger replied, waving her hand. "She did fine in Carcer--American jurisdiction, by the by--for five long years. A decade passes with England baby-sitting and she's on the loose again, murdering and generally being psychotic. My country is a Dark Wizard magnet."
"It's not as though America isn't without its problems, Tiffany. The Blood/Lycan War--"
"Mmm, but no evil overlord messing about, no serious political ramifications. That war is pretty contained. With Britain, all of our troubles seem to just spill out and make us and our government look like absolute tossers in front of the world. Why is it always my country?"
Dakota snorted.
"So my country can have someone to yell at."
Tiger reached for her pack of cigarettes.
"At this rate, the UK and the Yanks will never be on good terms."
"I don't know about that." Dakota's voice was light, whimsical. Tiger met her gaze. "The muggles from our two respective motherlands get along swimmingly. If they can manage it, how difficult can it truly be?"
"Yeah, well that's muggles." Tiger fumbled with the lighter for a moment. Fed up, she cast it aside and lit her cigarette with a silent Incendio and took a deep breath. "It don't look good. Way I hear it, Corvinus was the one who took care of the hatter before she was shipped off to St. Mungo's. She apparently stormed the gate and took the mickey outta the Chief of Medicine and Minister Shacklebolt. Scary woman, she is. It was all over the Daily Prophet. Apparently, the whole country's in an uproar. Nobody has the faintest idea of where Rabinovich is."
Dakota set her coffee cup down on the table and leaned back in her chair, folding her thin arms across her chest. Tiger appraised her appearance, still a bit shell-shocked at just how different the girl looked.
Six months it had been since she'd kicked that herowig habit. Like any recreational drug, Tiger had sampled it, but hadn't found it to be something worth getting herself in a knot about. However, Dakota had taken it liberally, and by the end of February, the poor girl looked as though she belonged in a half-way house somewhere.
However, her gaunt appearance had changed. There was meat on her bones again, albeit not much--Dakota had always been a slight thin--and there was a healthy glow back in those cheeks. Her hair wasn't stringy anymore, but full and thick. Her nose was still a bit crooked from where Tiger had patched it up with all the finesse of a stampede of giraffes, but Tiger thought it gave her face character. Her golden eyes were bright and no longer rimmed with red or adorned by those horrible bags.
Dakota was dressed quite posh today, all things considered, in a form-fitting blue jumper-dress that went down to almost her knees and a pair of fashionable dragon-hide boots that Tiger was already planning on filching from her at the next available opportunity.
Tiger hadn't planned on meeting Dakota for a sunrise breakfast, but after Eric's request to meet in the gardens at practically dawn, Tiger had rolled out of bed two hours before and tarted herself up right nicely. She was not really a morning person by any stretch of the word, but she and Eric had seen very little of one another when exam time had come. She missed that little Canadian bugger, so she would service his whims today.
Tiger had grabbed a copy of the campus newspaper on the way to A La Carté and was nursing her first cup of Earl Grey when Dakota had come sauntering in, getting her usual black coffee. They were just finishing up a light breakfast and Dakota had brought around the headlining topic in the newspaper.
"Another five people dead, all within three months because of this bint." Tiger exhaled a plume of smoke and eyed Dakota through it. "Any observations, Mister Spock?"
An eyebrow arched, and Tiger laughed.
"Wherever did that reference come from?"
"I used to date a muggle boy who liked the show. With all that logic and blue, it just seemed fitting."
Dakota let it slide.
"I can't form any kind of hypothesis about a woman who's obviously insane. Insanity isn't exactly conducive to logical conclusions."
"Bugger." Tiger smoked a little more and then motioned towards Potiuntur in front of her. "How're things on the home front, then?"
Dakota sighed. She leaned forward and propped her elbows upon the table, fingers knotting together and resting just beneath her chin.
"As well as can be expected. Row and I are doing very well. Kira and I...speak."
"And Dodger?" Dakota gave her a look that could've frozen the sea. Tiger's eyebrows climbed into her hairline. "Well, what were you expecting, Koda?"
"I wasn't expecting anything," Dakota murmured, eyes focused on the tablecloth. "However, I had hopes."
"Yes, well...as much as it hurts to have them dashed, you had to have seen this coming," Tiger replied bluntly, leaning forward.
"Is civility too much to ask? I'm not asking him to fall into my arms and forgive me, but he's so cold, Tiffany. Especially to Row. Whenever we spend time together, it's practically palpable."
"Nice alliteration."
"It's as if we're just going through the motions for the sake of it," Dakota said irritably, rubbing her temple. "I would very much like our friendship restored, but there's a wall there now, and I'm not sure if it'll ever come down at the rate we're going."
"Consider Dodger's position--and Kira's for that matter." Tiger shrugged. "They both feel betrayed."
"So did Rowland, and he moved past it."
"Yeah, but they're not Row, Koda." Tiger held up a hand as Dakota opened her mouth. "Hear me out. Your boyfriend loves you and probably always will. You two had a bond before all that stuff happened with Caden, a bond that was strong enough to endure all that nonsense. You can't expect them to snap back into it in only a few months, after all--"
"I'm not asking for forgiveness," Dakota interrupted firmly, "I would just like the healing process to begin, and their attitudes are, at best, distant and polite, and at worst outright cold."
"Koda," Tiger said, but the Potiuntur was having none of it.
"I understand that they're still angry with me, and that I can live with, but when it begins to affect Row's association with them--"
"Dakota."
"--it just doesn't seem right, Tiffany. Is Row's forgiveness of me really such a slight against them, or are they holding a grudge simply because--"
"Dakota!" Tiger heaved a sigh of relief when Dakota stopped talking, lips still parted on an unspoken word. "Thank you. Now...shut up."
Dakota looked affronted.
"Tiffany--"
"Shut up." Tiger's voice was firm. "Will you behave, or shall I tie a knot in your bleeding tongue? Now..." Tiger cleared her throat. "Dakota, you may be spectacular in logic, but you've barely got an 'Acceptable' in social relationships. When I said 'consider Dodger's position', I meant it. You actually sat there and told the bloke that, essentially, his entire childhood was a web of lies that you yourself weaved because of something as simple as jealous rivalry. Dodger's also quite the man's man. He's got an ego like I've never seen, and you unintentionally bruised that ego by having Row take your side in the whole mess."
"I didn't force Row to forgive me! Certainly, there was pleading and begging and apology stacked upon apology, but I could never force Row's hand!"
Tiger stared at her.
"Tie a knot in her tongue and she still has ten feet left over to play verbal jump-rope with you." Tiger reached out and took Dakota's hand. "Listen to me, love. Dodger's blowing off steam is all. He's probably more angry at Rowland than you right now, and he'll get over it in his own time. Row and Dodger may never be best mates again, but they'll heal after a bit. And you and Dodger never had that much of a relationship before this, so I'm not sure what you're expecting there...just give that time as well. And as for Kira..." Tiger shook her head.
"What?" Dakota leaned forward. "What, Tiffany? Say it."
"Dakota, you shagged the guy that almost raped her, for Christ's sake." To Dakota's credit, she didn't even flinch. "You can't imagine how much that hurt her unless somebody does it to you. You really fucked up, Koda, as much as I love you, and you're just going to have to be patient and hope that they come around. I think they will, though."
"It may take an act of God," Dakota said softly, leaning back.
Tiger smirked.
"Ask and ye shall receive. Be careful what you wish for, love. Bad things don't only happen to my country; you four seem to be good at attracting all kinds of disaster."
Dakota snorted and finished her coffee.
"What has you up so early anyway?"
Tiger let out a squeal and consulted the clock on the wall of the little café.
It was five minutes 'till eight, and it was quite the stroll to Insitor's.
"I've got to go," Tiger said, hoisted herself out of her chair and tossing down a coin or two for her part of the breakfast. "I'm meeting Eric. In the gardens. Can't imagine what's got him tweaked." She grinned suddenly. "Perhaps sex."
"Is that the only thing on your mind, Tiffany?"
"Only part of the time." Tiger looked at Dakota a moment and then held up a hand, parting her fingers in the middle to create a perfect 'V' shape. "Live long and prosper."
And there was eyebrow lift-off.
"You really are an imbecile, Tiffany."
Tiger only chuckled and, leaning down, gave Dakota's cheek a friendly peck. "Laters, love."
Luckily, since she tended to slack off a bit in her lessons, Tiger was quite accustomed to rushing across campus at high speeds. When she reached the entrance to Insitor's Garden, she realized she was only a moment or so late.
Following the winding, cobblestone path leading into the menagerie of flora, Tiger immediately caught sight of Eric, looking fresh and handsome in the morning's brilliant sunshine.
"Hey. I'm glad you're here."
"Good morning, handsome," Tiger said with a grin. She was not big on PDA, so it said something when she leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to her Canadian's lips. "Shall we, then?"
Joined: Mar 2007 Gender: Male Posts: 42 Location: Canadia
The Truth Comes Out « Result #9 on May 25, 2009, 9:30pm »
Four hours had past since he'd finished his talk with Row. So far, so good.
He left, went to the field and just ran for hours. Listening to his steady breathing and the sound of the wind rushing past, blocking out the sounds of the ever darkening world around him, he ran. He had one goal. One goal for this run. He needed all his stress, all his pent up energy, and his discomfort and unease to flow through him and away into the earth beneath him.
Adrenaline always had helped to calm him down. Forced him to focus, find himself again, and most importantly think.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
There was something about pushing his body past it's comfort level, past his mind's imagined limitations, that always raised his spirits. Always forced him back into control of his life.
And that was exactly what he needed.
After his run he headed straight to the Owlery and sat with parchment and a pen (he never had mastered using a quill... a fact which Tiger never failed to mention joshingly) for what seemed like forever.
He sat looking at the slightly off white paper, disappointingly blank, by the light of the school's too dim lanterns; every so often putting pen to paper only to have it sit there forming an ever largening blot on the paper. Very attractive.
He finally settled on ". Meet me in the garden tomorrow?" It wasn't poetry or even a letter really but this wasn't the kind of information you give to someone via owl.
It was pitch black by now as he walked back home. It started to drizzle a bit, not surprisingly as it had for at least the past few weeks. He felt so different. So much calmer. So much more at peace with himself.
Getting home he avoided people. An owl was waiting for him when he arrived back in his room. Underneath his own writing was "Just tell me when. P.S. What's with the random dot?" he cracked a small smile before replying, "8-ish work for you? I'd like to have all day". After he sent the creature back he hopped into the shower, read her ".Works for me." note, smiled, and went straight to bed.
He did not sleep well. He felt terrible. And spent most of the night thinking and watching the moon out of his window. He couldn't get the words he had said to Rowland out of his head...
"I don't regret this." That wasn't comletely true.
Yes. He was glad he'd realized what he was doing. But at the same time, no he didn't want to have had to mess up this big to realize it. The whole situation sucked. But at least he'd woken up. At least he'd realized what he had been doing, what he had been wasting...his life.
More awake and energized than he had been all day he strode to his desk, flicked his witch light on, and opened the bottom drawer.
It was full of junk - as was any drawer he opened, really.
Amidst his hourd of Kinder eggs, chocolate Kisses, potato chip bags (ketchup of course), a lonely naughty magazine he had purchased and kept just to prove he had one, a half eaten bag of Goodies (he'd forgotten about those...definately an appropriate midnight snack), a bag of unopened sour cream and bacon chips that ER had sent him on a whim, spare parchment (all crumpled and essentially useless unless the situation got dire) a couple packs of almost completely melted bubble gum, a few featherless and hardly used quills, their occompanying feathers which were securly glued to the bottom corner of the drawer by his spilt ink, the empty ink jar, and of course a vast assorment of pens (only half of which worked) he found what he was looking for.
He removed the neatly folded, chip crumb covered paper and opened it.
The words "Field of Study Alteration Request Form" stared back at him. He popped a few Goodies into his mouth, scribbled the useless parchment in the drawer (while it was still in the drawer) to make sure the pen he'd pick would actually work, and set to filling out the form.
Current Field of Study: Auror Program
Intended Field of Study: Healing.
He hardly slept that night. Staying up late completing his request form and charming it to deliver itself once he'd finished (and, of course, magically relieved it of it's chip-dust-covered exterior).
The next morning flashed by.
Quick run, quick shower, quick breakfast.
Before he knew it he was watching as Tiger walked towards him in the gardens, smiling.
"Hey." He said calmly. "I'm glad you're here."
« Last Edit: May 26, 2009, 10:15pm by Eric Pearson »
PERSONALITY DESCRIPTION: All the stereotypes about air-headed blonde bimbos stop with Sabrina Ward. She is an enthusiastic conversationlist, well-versed in literature and politics, and aspires to become a WWN Communications Engineer. Sabrina is fun-loving, lively, vivacious, and intelligent. She is eloquent and graceful, and her easy way of adapting to any environment means she thrives in any situation, any setting. She is the person you call in to break the ice; in a room full of nervous students on their first-day, she'll be the first one to say hello and introduce herself. Sabrina has a thirst for life and making every day count, so if you want a party girl, Sabrina will be there in a heartbeat. She is extremely inquisitive and curious, and her youthful enthusiasm for life garners her an ability to learn quickly, especially when something fascinates her.
Sabrina earned the nickname 'Butterfly' from her father, because she tends to be flighty. Her interests are varied and expansive, but she lacks application, and will flit from project to project, from interest to interest like a butterfly flutters from flower to flower. With her fickleness comes a slight brand of superficiality; Sabrina is very into her looks and her clothes. However, because she has good looks, she can often be cunning and use her attractiveness to achieve her own ends. Her morals are sometimes blurry, but she is often harmless when achieving her self-interests. Most of the time, she strives to be honest and straight-forward, but because of her childish love of mischief and misbehaving, she will often place the blame in other people who are wrapped up in her charm and easy to warp.
In love, Sabrina is also fickle, not intentionally so but because of the basic inconsistency of her emotional nature, which has an amoral aspect to it. There is a side to Sabrina which can become deeply involved emotionally, and another, hostile to sentimentality, which stands back from a romantic situation, laughing at it and the protagonists in it, including herself while analyzing it intellectually. Sabrina takes nothing seriously. So, in love, in spite of her temporary depth of feeling, for the intensity of involvement lasts only while it is new, she is superficial, light-hearted, cool, flirtatious and unimaginative in the understanding of the pain she may give others.
Sabrina likes intrigue, the excitement of the chase, but once she has caught the prey, she loses interest and looks around for the next creature to pursue. In less serious situations she makes a witty, entertaining companion, good acquaintances rather than friends. Even at her worst she is never dull - there is usually playfulness below the surface, and she can be a brilliant conversationalist--but Sabrina can also be quarrelsome and prone to lying.
FAMILY HISTORY: Sabrina was born in New Orleans, Louisiana, and there is a slight Southern drawl in her voice because of it. She spent her childhood in a wizarding suburb of the city. Her mother, Cicely, died in childbirth. Her father, Blaine, hosts a popular state-wide radio show on the WWN, and he remarried a muggle woman named Gloria Bellhaven who writes for a newspaper. She has one younger step-sister Natalia who will be heading off to Kameons Academy next year.
Sabrina is close to both of her parents, and because Gloria is a muggle, she remains infinitely curious about the muggle world. She loves muggle music (her favorite band being the Red Hot Chili Peppers) and is obsessed with the comic-book series 'Batman'.
Sabrina was taught magic at home by her father and her Aunt Savannah, as is tradition in the Ward families. She spent a lot of time with her wizarding friends and working part-time with her father at the WWN station. She's fascinated with the way the radio works, and her stint alongside her father made her career goal to be working for the WWN full-time as a communications expert.
Sabrina filled out several applications to colleges and finally settled on Cackle's Academy for Witches, an all-girl school in Los Angeles. After a year of education, she decided to transfer to Celerum for a more specialized degree in Communications for her career.
FAMILIAR: Sabrina has a cat, Italics, who is a long-haired female feline that is pure white. Italics is prissy and snobbish to everyone except Sabrina, whom she adores. Italics spends most of her time preening or sleeping.
PLEASE STATE YES OR NO FOR THE FOLLOWING ITEMS AND ELABORATE IF THE NEED BE:
Can your character preform Wandless Magic? Yes. Can your character Apparate? Yes. Can your character produce a Patronus? No. Has your character faced a boggart and thus know his/her greatest fear? No. Is your character able to resist the Imperius Curse? No.
« Last Edit: Oct 3, 2008, 9:20pm by cerescorvinus »
Joined: Jan 2007 Gender: Female Posts: 57 Location: 221 B. Bakerstreet
[Above All Else] « Result #14 on Aug 25, 2008, 7:59pm »
Dante's Woods quenched all sources of light. The sun, which hung overhead, swollen in all its summertime splendor was almost maliciously dimmed and provided nothing more than a mere shadow of a shine that glowed feyly amongst the overgrown, wild trees and shrubbery. Despite the fact that the sun was warm, but not drenching, every piece of flora in the forest seemed to be crooked, twisting in a most unsightly manner as if dying, and as Dakota continued on her way, the crunch of fallen, curled leaves echoed behind her.
Dakota did not oft find the need to walk anywhere with her wand brandished after having mastered the art of magic sans the stick, but even Dakota wasn't arrogant enough to assume she knew what lay within Dante's arms in the wood. She was prepared for anything, since she didn't know what to expect.
Oh, Dakota had heard tales of students who had gone before her: dreadful creatures roamed Dante's almost endless labyrinth of trees and bushes, creatures of nightmares that would tear innocent treaders apart simply for trespassing on their boundries. Dante's Woods were almost an unspeakable topic in Celerum and it sent everyone shivering when mentioned. Only the Auror students and some Magical Fauna majors were allowed passage into the forest's deadly embrace, and those were under controlled, warded circumstances so there wasn't reason to fret.
Dakota snorted, stepping over an upturned tree root that had gathered greenish-brown moss under the cover of the protective trees. She still didn't believe there was reason to fret, despite the stories and the tales of those who had dared walk this passage. It was the same kind of silly, illogical uncertainty that made people fear death, fear the dark.
Dakota was smart enough to know that fearing such things was beyond absurd; it was the unknown that lay lurking in the dark, the unknown that lay beyond the thread of this mortal coil that made people fear death and darkness.
Dakota did not fear the unknown. She did not fear anything, certainly nothing that lay in this barren wood--it was foolish to fear what one didn't understand. Uncertainty in times like these was regrettable, she thought, but it was no cause for fear or alarm. The unknown was an obstacle to be brought down, a hurdle to be negotiated, for in the never-ending quest for knowledge and in her thirst for curiosity, a silly intangible little thing like the unknown would not slake her lust for more knowledge. Nothing could cease her from achieving any goal she put herself.
Dakota walked the wood today not in hopes that she would slay whatever terrible beast lurked beyond the ambiguous shade of the trees that surrounded her--she would leave feats like hunting wild hippogriffs or manticores or any untamed game to more chilvarous, erstwhile mages. She walked the wood in hopes to receive an answer to a question that had plagued her since her sixth year back at Kameons.
Dakota stopped and took a good look around. A curious bend of the trees before her was making an odd crest in the light that illuminated the space around her. The air was fogged with the misty twilight sun, red and orange in some places, and she could see particles of dust and pollen floating aimlessly about the place that had been Lumos-ed by the sun's retreating rays.
Dakota sighed, and for old times' sake, chose to be thorough in her assumption since she had gone so far.
"Expecto Patronum!"
The wand held in her hand like a sword thrummed, not without a want to follow her command, but soon after it went still. Dakota made a frustrated noise, her eyebrows furrowed in thought.
She was not an untalented witch. For being a muggleborn, she had unusual strength in spellwork and curses. Why was a simple Patronus Charm beyond her realm of magical capability?
It was ridiculous, really. She had gone through approximately seventeen different, pleasant memories--all of which included her accomplishing tasks in her continuous quest for knowledge, all of which had made her exceedingly ecstatic at the time they ocurred. Her memories were not unhappy or not pleasant enough. Professor Optimus's voice floated into her head, unbidden and unwanted.
You must mean it. It must truly be something that makes you happy.
Dakota shook her head. Ridiculous, all of it.
Dakota loathed asking others for advice or consultation; ever the consulting logician, she was not at all comfortable with the reverse of roles it forced her to take. But Dakota, being practical as she was, had deigned a meeting with Professor Optimus earlier in the week to discuss her problem.
Over tea in his office, Professor Optimus weighed her problem with a heavy silence that stretched on endlessly. Dakota remained patient and waited until Optimus leaned forward, placing his elbows upon the table and steepling his fingers.
"The Patronus Charm is not my area of expertise, Miss Sawyer," he announced softly. "Surely you know that since it is a charm designed to repel a dementor--a dark creature--that you would be far better off laying your inquiry at Professor Keyes's feet?"
Dakota nodded, expecting this. "I have, sir. I did my thesis on the matter for my end of term project. After Professor Keyes read it, she expressed an interest in knowing more, so I told her the few bits I left out of the paper. She confessed herself baffled and said that if the problem didn't cease, I should contact you."
Professor Optimus nodded sharply, as if knowing what her reply was going to be. The corner of his thin lips upturned in a half-smile. "I should've expected you to be so thorough."
When he was silent again, his eyes clouded over in thought, Dakota lost her patience and politely, she thought, interrupted him.
"Professor? Do you know why I am having this problem?"
Professor Optimus's eyes stayed seemingly dormant where they remained, focused on that intangible point in the table. He traced his lips with the tips of his fingers pensively. "Your memories--I assume you have tried several? Are they not happy enough?"
Dakota shook her head. "My memories are fine. Each of them has made me as happy as I have ever been."
Optimus nodded again, resolutely, and then in one sweeping motion, leaned back into his chair, draping his arm over the wingback and fixing her with a serious expression. "I am not going to insult your intelligence by suggesting that you have not been thorough, too, in that regard, for you and I both know the answer to that. Still, the reaction to that charm is most unusual. If the memories you have selected all prove to be fruitless, this suggests in turn that you have not ever been truly happy--for nothing but a memory of pure, unadulterated joy can bring a Patronus forth when you call. No false memory, no mere shadow of artificial happiness can make this charm successful."
Dakota was taken aback--she rarely ever was. Professor Optimus was sitting before her, cool as you please, suggesting that she was miserable--had always been miserable.
"Professor, I assure you, I have been happy, and I don't appreciate you--" Dakota paused, reigning back her slow-rising temper in favor of the amused, but warning look Optimus was giving her. Heaving a sigh to calm her nerves (why did what he said bother her so much, anyway?), Dakota tried a different approach. "Professor, I was thinking--perhaps I cannot produce a Patronus because there's nothing I'm afraid of."
Optimus simply looked at her. "Have you ever faced a dementor, Miss Sawyer?"
Dakota shook her head.
Optimus was silent again after that, and a few seconds went by before he fixed her with another amused, but condescending look. "Yes, I can see where you would get that impression, dementors being creatures that instill fear and make you relive your worst memories. Obviously, your inability to produce a Patronus would logically insinuate that you have nothing to fear and would remain unaffected by a dementor's attack." Optimus smiled, and it was false. "Dear Miss Sawyer, perhaps I had hoped too much from your exspansive intelligence."
"Sir?" Dakota inquired softly.
"Dementors and Patronus Charms are memory magic, not psychological magic. You are confusing dementors with boggarts, something that correlates directly with your fears. Surely you learned that back in Kameons?"
Dakota's eyebrow arched into her hair. No one ever talked to her like that--especially not professors. It was unsettling, and it made her instantly annoyed.
"Professor, I--"
"Back to your original thesis that you fear nothing," Optimus interrupted, and his tone brooked no argument, "I'm afraid that is quite impossible. No one is not afraid of anything--it is incapable in a human being, unthinkable. Everyone fears something. Do not assume that you fear nothing simply because you know not what it is you fear the most."
"I'm afraid of losing my knowledge, sir," Dakota replied, "but I don't think it scares me enough. You see, I know through hard work and perseverance, I can reacquire it through the same methods I once gained it. It would be painstaking and take immense amounts of time, but it is possible, so it makes the fear fade."
Optimus perked up at this statement, in his way. He sat a little straighter and blinked quickly. "Your memories, Miss Sawyer. Did they all have to do with your knowledge? You acquiring your knowledge?"
Dakota reassed her chosen memories. Yes, they all did have some bearing as to her learnings, her observations, things she had been taught that meant a lot to her.
"Yes, I believe so."
Optimus rose an eyebrow. "You are sure? And there is no other memory that satisfied you more than those?"
Dakota shook her head. Memories of tormenting Dodger as a child were cruelly good, but even her attempt at those had proven useless and yielded her no results. Memories of good times with Rowland and her friends were like ghosts, appearing for only a second so Dakota could flourish in the rosy feeling of what they once were, and then they vanished, nothing but wisps of betrayel and annoyance and how she had lost her blessed objectivity. They did not suit her, not as they once had.
"Curious," Optimus murmured, so quietly that Dakota had to lean in to hear him. He gave her another amused look. "Potiuntur to a fault, aren't we?"
Dakota looked down, half-humbled and half-irritated.
"I shall not call your memories artificial or not strong enough," Optimus went on, "for I did not live or experience them. I am no one to sit before you and tell you that your memories aren't enough for this charm. I know of only one other possible explanation."
"Sir?"
"There is something off balance with your magical signature," Optimus explained, leaning back. "Although it is improbable. Very much so."
Dakota nearly smirked at him. "Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remians, no matter how improbable, is the truth."
Optimus actually chuckled. "Child, logic is woven into your DNA! Well, let us assume then that this improbable imbalance is the problem. Such an imbalance is unusual of someone your age--we usually only see it in cases of extreme trauma when a soul is shaken to the core, or when women who are expecting are carrying wizarding children: their magical balance will increase because of it, you see. You have suffered no trauma to my knowledge, and as to the other possible trigger--?" Optimus let his question trail.
Dakota? Pregnant? She wanted to laugh. She shook her head firmly and said, "Not possible."
Optimus eyed her suspiciously before continuing. "Then something unforeseen is rippling beneath your magic. Something is wrong, off-kilter, that is causing your inability to produce this, the most common of memory charms and spells. It usually is difficult for those who have no truly happy memory to produce this charm, sometimes impossible, but from what you have said, I cannot make that conclusion. Only you can. Memory magic is difficult, but should come very easily for someone of your age and of your talent. Still...how very curious." Optimus rubbed his chin.
"Your suggestion, sir?" Dakota asked.
Optimus hesitated for only an instant, as if unsure of whether or not to continue. When he leaned in closer to her, it was almost conspiratory. "As a teacher of this school, I cannot condone any student doing anything dangerous or untoward that could lead them to harm, nor will I suggest anything of the kind." Optimus paused. "However, I will tell you what I would do, should I be faced with this problem. I would venture off to a place where I knew I could find a dementor and see if I could not force the charm out with the severity of an actual encounter. Sometimes, magic like this needs to be forced, rather than practiced in theory."
"Where would you look for a dementor, sir?" Dakota said quietly, her eyes gleaming almost devilishly.
Optimus arched an eyebrow. "Assuming that I was as capable a student as you are, Miss Sawyer, with no doubt in my magical abilities or my apparating skills, I would venture into Dante's Woods to seek my quarry."
Dakota felt like smiling at the half-suggestion, but she did not. She only nodded.
Optimus sat back. "Of course, I would not go alone, even though I know my self-confidence would scream bloody murder at the thought of admitting help." Dakota's long fingernails dug deep curves into her palm as she clenched her fist. Leave it to Optimus to give her useful information with a back-handed insult.
"Yes, sir," she bit out. "Thank you, sir."
As Dakota stood and turned to go, Optimus made a sound that was almost a cough. Dakota turned to look at him. His elbows were now propped up on the arms of his desk chair and his fingers remained steepled. He looked so powerful and wise that Dakota almost forgave him for the insult.
"Take Hammond or Townsend with you. Townsend, preferably, because I'm sure you and Hammond would kill one another before you reached your destination."
Dakota wanted to laugh out loud. Rowland? Was he serious?
"Still, knowing you, I have a feeling that you will not heed my words," Optimus continued, and for a split-second, his eyes were something akin to sad. "I shall not be responsible for what happens to you, Miss Sawyer, and I shall sleep quite easy in my mind should something unfortunate befall you; I gave you a very clear warning, thus, my conscience will be clear. So if you heed nothing else, heed this: when casting the Patronus Charm, you must mean it. It must truly be something that makes you happy."
Dakota had left without another word, barely hearing the rest of Optimus's sentence, her head already full with ideas about venturing into Dante's Woods for an encounter with a dementor.
However, as she stood there now, looking around her at the endless maze of identical, twisted trees in the fading rays of sun, only somewhat lost but certain she could escape the woods if need be, Dakota felt Optimus's words weigh heavily in her mind.
Of course, it was ridiculous that she hadn't been happy in those memories. Optimus was an assuming, self-righteous old wizard who thought he was omniscient when he really wasn't. But was something truly off balance with her magic? And what did that mean of her dreams to aspire to an Unspeakable? If she didn't overcome her deficiency, how many other spells and charms would she not be able to master?
Dakota waited patiently for that tell-tale sign of a chill, a darkening of the slowly disappating light, and waited for a dementor, her senses almost keening with the thrill of the unknown, but none came. The air around her remained still and almost uncomfortably warm, cucooned within the blanket of trees and shrubbery.
Dakota sighed. She was not going to find a dementor today, damn it all. Deciding to cap it all as bad luck, she closed her eyes and prepared to disapparate.
A crunching of leaves made her eyes pop open, and they were alert and looking from tree to fogged tree for the sign of the noise. She had not moved, so she knew the sound was not her own. Silently praying that it was some creature she could attack and bring down to quell her frustration at the day's events and at the fact that Optimus's words were ringing in her ears, she waited silently.
Another crunch sounded, somewhere off to her right, and Dakota turned, wand at the ready, and a voice reached her ears.
"Don't! Please, don't kill me!"
The voice was sinkingly familiar--a male's, a rich tenor like some strings of a Stradivarius. Dakota was off in an instant, sprinting towards the source of the voice.
"Please, I'll do anything, just don't--No! Please!"
Who was it, with such a familiar voice, that was begging for mercy, begging not to be killed--Jesus, was someone actually going to be murdered?
A flash of brilliant green light made her stop in her tracks. Dakota blinked against the flash, so bright and strong and unreal that it blinded her. There was a terrible croaking sound and a thud.
A body had fallen into the leaves with a sickening crunch.
Dakota regained her senses almost immediately and dashed towards the sound, praying that she was wrong, that somebody had not been murdered in cold blood. Trees and twigs brushed and scratched against her face, against her hands as she fought against the forest's flora to get to the person, towards that awful sound--
Dakota came to a small clearing in the woods, again illuminated by a break in the trees' thick canopy of shade, and she dropped her wand.
There, lying on the ground amongst the leaves, was the body. Familiar brown hair, curled and only slightly long and so painfully familiar...
Dodger.
Dakota felt numb, more numb than she ever felt, and she lost her breath. There was a weight, so like that consumption, gripping her lungs tightly like dreadful silver hands, and she fought for air.
No...it was impossible...
Dakota edged towards the body, Dodger's body, praying that it wasn't true, praying that it wasn't her cousin lying there, lifeless among the dead leaves of Dante's Woods. Dakota stood at the body's side, and with trembling hands, smoothed the hair of the figure out of its face.
Brown eyes were frozen, unmoving and unblinking, so like her own, mouth slightly agape with fear and disbelief. Dakota looked at her cousin, lying there in the nest of leaves, limbs akimbo...he had been struck down...
Dakota was on her feet again in an instant, eyes darting madly, wildly across the forest for her cousin's assailant, her cousin's murderer, but not a breath nor a whisper came to her ears. There was no one in sight. The murderer had fled.
Dakota closed her eyes, and her mind swam...memories of her teasing Dodger on his birthday, of stealing his prized Mustang, of her cold, aggravated demeanor on his engagement vacation in New York City, of his eyes, so hateful and confused at her anger and malice...of him in Kira's arms at the Harvest Festival, the light in his eyes shining up the entire square as he looked at his future wife...Dodger's laugh ringing in her ears on so many evenings with them all when Dakota called him Mycroft...
Dakota's body shook as she lowered herself back to the form of her cousin, her blood, lying there so helpless and still on the ground.
No...it was not possible. It just wasn't. Dodger was too strong, too powerful to be struck down defenseless by the Killing Curse--had it been the Avada Kedavra? She hadn't heard the words...it had only been a flash of green light--
A spark of hope filled Dakota to the brim, and she grasped onto it with everything that she was. She scrambled around in the dead leaves for her wand, and when she couldn't find it, she placed her hands on Dodger's chest, ignoring the feeling of ice that poured over her when she didn't feel a heartbeat.
"Ennervate," she whispered, and a flood of blue light left her fingertips and engulfed Dodger's body.
Nothing happened.
"Ennervate."
Still nothing.
Making a snarling sound that echoed in the forest, Dakota scrambled over to the place where she had dropped her wand. She wasn't powerful enough, that was all. She still needed her wand for some things--the spell alone without the wand channeling simply hadn't been enough...she couldn't even produce a Patronus, for Christ's sake...
Her fingers closed around the wooden stick and she flew back to Dodger, and placed the tip at Dodger's throat.
She took a deep, shaky breath and spoke the incantation.
"Ennervate."
Again, the same blue light, but stronger this time, and Dakota watched with avid, wild eyes as it did nothing but fade again, leaving Dodger lifeless.
"Ennervate!" Nothing. "No...no, dammit, you are not going to do this to me--Ennervate!" The body remained still.
Dakota's vision blurred, and she took to shaking Dodger, moving him, and when he didn't awaken, she lifted an unsteady hand and tried it again.
"Ennervate. Ennervate! Dammit, Dodger, don't you--don't you fucking dare--"
Dodger didn't move. Didn't blink. Didn't breathe.
Dakota threw her wand aside and, clasping her hand, pumped Dodger's chest. It was a muggle method, she knew, but it could work--anything could work now, to get the breath back into him, to get his heart to beat--dammit, anything--
Dakota lowered her mouth to his ice cold lips and blew in a breath of air. Dodger's chest rose and fell limpy, but he didn't awaken. Dakota, struggling against her blurry vision, did it again, pumping his chest time and time again and then breathing into his mouth.
Still nothing.
He was playing a joke on her--that was it! He was upping the anty once again, wondering what his evil cousin would do if he suddenly popped up dead one day--
Now enraged, Dakota furiously pumped his chest and breathed into his mouth again, his lips colder by the second, and then she let out a horrible, heart-wrenching sound and began to beat at his chest hard, so hard that she was sure he was going to wake up screaming at the pain, begging her to stop, half-laughing at her stupidity in falling for a fucking joke--
Dodger remained still, silent, unbreathing, even as Dakota beat holes into his empty chest.
Dodger would remain still. He would not move, would not breathe. It was not a joke--Dodger had begged for his life from some unknown, merciless stranger...Dodger was really, truly gone. He was dead.
Oh, Jesus. Dodger was dead.
This thought alone propelled Dakota away from Dodger's body with the force of a tornado. She flew away from him so quickly and so forcefully that the touch of his body might have burnt her skin. She backed away slowly, hands clenching around leaves in her effort to give her distance between him and her, his body and her body...
He was dead. Dodger was dead.
Dakota's entire body shook, eyes wide and horrified at the sight, at the mere thought that it was really, truly her cousin lying there on the ground, gone from this world forever, never coming back to torment her, never going to marry Kira, never going to give Dakota a niece or nephew, never even going to give Dakota the fucking chance to say that she was sorry, oh God, she was so sorry for everything, for every moment she had fueded with him, hurt him, not told him that he was why she breathed, why she lived, because she wanted to be just like him, just as smart, just as happy, just as carefree, because he was the yin to her yang, her other half, her completition, and without her, Sherlock Holmes was nothing, he was her inspiration, he was everything she wanted to be...oh God...
Unfeeling and of their own accord, Dakota's hands buried themselves in her hair, pulling and twisting and yanking, causing her pain that was nothing compared to how she felt inside, how she had died, how so, so fucking sorry she was...she'd lost her rival, her striving reason to be the way she was, she'd lost herself...she was nothing without him, without him to fight with, to argue with, to keep her on her toes, her true equal, and she had never even apologized, never even fucking told him how much he'd meant to her...
He was gone. It was over.
The tears that had obscured Dakota's vision finally fell and she sobbed, wept, cried as she'd never cried before, feeling as though her very soul was becoming unhinged, ripped from her body as his soul was ripped from his when he'd died. She trembled and shook so hard that it was hard to sit up straight. She felt as cold as ice inside, so cold, as if she'd died herself, as if his spirit was inside of her, strangling her with no warm, living body to go to any longer...
Cold. She was so cold. Her body felt as though she'd been dunked into a frozen lake, and she shook now more from the chill than her sorrow...
Visions swam in her head, visions that were so cold and so painful that it made her weep harder...Dodger calling her names, Dakota fighting Dodger physically, Dakota threatening Dodger's life, Dakota not congratulating Dodger on his engagement, Dakota laughing at a furious Dodger who was accusing her of hurting Rowland...Dodger's lifeless body on the ground as she tried with all her might to revive him, to bring him back to life...
Dakota opened her eyes, willing the image to stay at bay, willing to have it all just be a nightmare and that she'd wake up one day and finally go and thank Dodger and tell him that she was sorry, that she needed him...
Dakota blinked the tears out of her eyes. It was dark now, so dark that Dakota could barely make out the shadows of the trees. There was no moon, though...had the sun set so quickly? Had she been sitting there so long?
Dakota took a deep, chilling breath and let out steam from its heat...the temperature had dropped--
Looking up, Dakota gasped. A giant, billowy cloak was covering Dodger's body like a horrible black blanket, enveloping it in darkness as deep as obsidian so that nothing but his pale face remained unobscured. The thing in the cloak was making the most horrible, rattling sound, as if it was trying to breathe with a million thumbtacks stuck in its lungs...
And then, Dakota watched with wide eyes as Dodger blinked and jolted as if awakened from a sleep. His eyes grew wide and he let out a blood-curling scream that was so ethereal and banshee-esque that it couldn't have possibly been his own and he vanished in a puff of smoke with a large crack.
Dakota barely had time to wrap her mind around this phenomena before the cloaked figure turned slowly to face her. Dakota saw a great, gaping hole where the creature's mouth should have been, and horrible, scaly hands as it drifted towards her...Dakota's vision swam with images of Dodger dead on the ground not seconds before vanishing with a crack like a...
"Boggart," Dakota muttered wonderingly, looking up at the creature--at the dementor, who'd obviously confused the Boggart-Dodger for the human omitting all of that pain and despair...
Dakota leapt to her feet and, not bothering to get a wand, closed her eyes at held out her hand, letting the mere thought of Dodger alive and well fill her up. He was not dead, he was living and breathing somewhere on the Island with Kira, happy and thriving, and that Dakota could go to him and redeem herself at any moment...Dodger wasn't dead...
You must mean it...
"Expecto Patronum!" From Dakota's hand which shook and trembled came a large, silvery creature, larger than anything she'd ever seen, and it bounded forward and attacked the dementor, which immediately retreated and vanished into the night.
Dakota stared, bewildered, at the large silver creature, who then turned and faced Dakota. It was winged, and had the body of a lion but the face of a woman. It looked at Dakota expectantly, as if waiting for orders.
Dakota looked at it for a moment more, in disbelief, and then waved her hand. "Finite Incantatem."
The sphinx Patronus vanished in a wisp of silvery smoke. Dakota stood, staring at the empty space, doing nothing but catching her breath and trying to focus on one of the many threads of thought whipping around her head like a great maelstrom.
You produced a corporeal Patronus so strong that it wouldn't disappear when the dementor was gone.
Dodger isn't dead. It was a boggart.
Your greatest fear is Dodger dying.
Dodger isn't dead.
You produced a Patronus--a sphinx Patronus.
Dodger...
Dakota summoned her wand wordlessly with nothing but a tilt of her head. It flew back into her hand, and with a swish, she disapparated out of the forest. The trees rustled and swished with the force of her magic, and the light that had been extinguished in the dementor's wake restored to its full, dim brightness.
Professor Obsidio Optimus stepped out from behind an errant tree and looked at the space where Dakota's boggart had laid. The leaves still held the imprint of a body, and with a wave of his hand, the offending leaves gathered up into a giant swirl of breeze and gently blew further into the forest.
Professor Optimus allowed himself a rare smile.
"Well done, Miss Sawyer."
And with a second, but much quieter crack, the last wizard in Dante's Woods vanished, leaving the trees to whisper their quiet, deceptively innocent night song to nothing but thin air.
Joined: Dec 2006 Gender: Female Posts: 42 Location: Tampa
Re: Jessica Summers. « Result #15 on May 23, 2008, 12:30pm »
Ciao Jessica!
While this is a good start, we're going to need more information from you. Please read through all the directions throughly to complete the application correctly. Also feel free to look at the other applications for examples of well rounded characters. Currently there are flaws that prevent us from excepting you, even though we'd love you to join our family of creative minds.
![[Home]](http://i12.tinypic.com/2ag9gsi.jpg)
![[Help]](http://i10.tinypic.com/43wzewo.jpg)
![[Search]](http://i14.tinypic.com/3ye4spx.jpg)
![[Login]](http://i13.tinypic.com/4hx4het.jpg)
![[Register]](http://i10.tinypic.com/334q9tz.jpg)
![[Search This Thread]](http://s4.images.proboards.com/search2.gif)
![[Send Topic To Friend]](http://s4.images.proboards.com/buttons/sendtopic.gif)
![[Print]](http://s4.images.proboards.com/buttons/print.gif)
Author
![[avatar]](http://i131.photobucket.com/albums/p313/celerum/Students/Rowland-BrickIcon.jpg)
Logged![[image]](http://i131.photobucket.com/albums/p313/celerum/Students/Rowland-Brick02.jpg)
![[avatar]](http://i131.photobucket.com/albums/p313/celerum/Students/DodgerNew03.jpg)
![[image]](http://i131.photobucket.com/albums/p313/celerum/Students/DodgerNew01.jpg)
![[avatar]](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v314/13blackroses/Eric2.jpg)
![[image]](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v314/13blackroses/EricBanner2.jpg)
![[Reply]](http://s4.images.proboards.com/buttons/reply.gif)
![[Quote]](http://s4.images.proboards.com/buttons/quote.gif)
![[avatar]](http://i131.photobucket.com/albums/p313/celerum/Students/Tiger100.jpg)
![[image]](http://i131.photobucket.com/albums/p313/celerum/Students/Tiger07.jpg)
![[avatar]](http://i131.photobucket.com/albums/p313/celerum/Professors/Diana.jpg)
![[image]](http://i131.photobucket.com/albums/p313/celerum/Professors/Diana02.jpg)
![[avatar]](http://i131.photobucket.com/albums/p313/celerum/Students/Sabrina02.jpg)
![[image]](http://i131.photobucket.com/albums/p313/celerum/Students/Sabrina01.jpg)
![[avatar]](http://i131.photobucket.com/albums/p313/celerum/Students/Dakota-KStew003.jpg)
![[image]](http://i131.photobucket.com/albums/p313/celerum/Students/Dakota-Kstew004.jpg)
![[avatar]](http://i131.photobucket.com/albums/p313/celerum/Odd.jpg)
![[image]](http://i131.photobucket.com/albums/p313/celerum/HowOdd.jpg)