Eddie Carmichael (edasich) wrote in disorderic, @ 2018-03-02 17:31:00 |
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Entry tags: | bellatrix lestrange, eddie carmichael, rabastan lestrange |
WHO: Eddie Carmichael, Bellatrix Lestrange, & Rabastan Lestrange
WHAT: Teaching lessons with a knife
WHEN: This afternoon, 2 March
WHERE: Eddie's flat, Knockturn
WARNINGS: Violence
Eddie was flipping through his Netflix queue, trying to decide what to watch for the night, when an insistent knocking banged against the door of his flat. He rolled his eyes and decided to ignore it; he wasn't expecting anyone, after all, and there was at least a 50/50 chance somebody just had the wrong door. The new Cloverfield film looked alright, maybe, but Eddie wasn't really feeling up to a monster space dystopia, or whatever the hell it was. The knocking came again, and with a sigh, Eddie hauled himself off his sofa. "Cyrus, mate, if you locked yourself out of your own flat again…" he called as he crossed the cozy flat to open the door. He stopped in his tracks when he saw not his neighbour, but his aunt standing at the door. "What are you doing here?" he asked before he could stop himself. Bellatrix’ spine straightened at the sight of her nephew and she looked down her nose at him. “I’m here to begin your instruction,” she said and, without waiting for an invitation, stepped past him to let herself inside. With a smirk, she added, “First lesson, don’t open the door unless you’re expecting someone.” Eddie blinked. "Wait, here?" He pushed the door closed behind her and slid the lock back in place out of habit and followed her as she made herself right at home in his own flat. The sight of her in his tiny kitchen wasn't one he could quite process. "You want to do lessons here?" After giving his flat a once over, she turned back to him with raised eyebrows. “I didn’t realise you’d been living in a hovel,” she said, not bothering to keep the disgust off her face. “But yes, this will do.” "It's not a hovel," Eddie insisted crossly. "It's just not exactly got a lot of … you know, floor space. You can't just barge into my flat. I could've had people here, you know." “I don’t see anyone,” Bellatrix said, peeking around the corner of his counter and giving the room another glance with her hand over her eyes, as if blocking the sun. She shrugged at him. “Looks like I have good timing, so let’s get to it, shall we? Where’s your dagger?” "It's … hold on." This was sure to be fun. There was no path out of this, and Eddie wasn't about to piss off his crazy, armed aunt while she was already in his home. He levitated what furniture he had up against the walls to give them a bit of room; it wasn't much, but it would do. The dagger sat in its sheath inside a box on a shelf of Eddie's bookcase. As his fingers clasped around the hilt, a sickening thrill pulsed through him. This was a dangerous object, and easily the most cursed thing he'd ever owned. He didn't suppose there was any point in asking Bellatrix if they could start out with normal, uncursed daggers — or even better, wooden toys — first. Dagger in one hand and wand in the other, he turned back to Bellatrix. Bellatrix slid her robes off her shoulders and draped them across one of his levitated chairs. She rolled up her sleeves before drawing her own dagger and inclining her head toward his wand. “You won’t need that for this part,” she said. “We’ll start with the basics. First, the correct grip.” Eddie was wary of unwanding himself, but after a moment's hesitation, stuck it into his back pocket and mimicked Bellatrix's grip on his own knife. He was gripping too tightly and he knew it, but made an effort to loosen his hold just enough. "Alright," he said, watching her closely to see what came next. “Very good. And now, the other,” she said, and in one swift motion, traded her forward grip for a reverse in her hand. “You’ll want to switch easily from one to the other while you’re fighting.” She paused to demonstrate a few scenarios in which each position would come in handy. The first, for jabbing or slicing. And the second, for a downward stab. Each technique, she pointed out, could be equally deadly and equally defensive in a close quarters fight. “And with a moving target, the ability to use them all can mean the difference between stabbing or being stabbed,” she said, before showing him a slower version of the motion. “Between your thumb and index fingers, like this.” In his life, Eddie had witnessed more than enough scuffles and fights that her movements were well familiar to him. He followed her with ease. More ease than he cared for, if he stopped to think about it. A lifetime of being the small, slender one left him nimble on his feet and more adept to dodging and slipping away than to full fights and confrontations. With a bit of practice, he could probably be good at this. "Any tips for when you've an opponent six inches taller and several stone heavier?" “Be faster than your opponent,” she said, looking down at him. “And stay low. Strike upward, between the ribs.” She moved on to demonstrate several techniques he could use to block attacks from a taller opponent — none she’d ever had to employ herself, of course. Directing him into position, she held her knife out so he could replicate the moves she’d shown him. “To use any of these,” she said over the sound of metal against metal. “You’ll have to learn to anticipate your opponent’s next move.” A buzzing sound erupted behind Bellatrix, his phone against the table, and Eddie nearly jumped out of his skin. He was really getting this, really in the moment with his ducks and weaves, and the last thing he needed was Alicia's familiar hext ring to interrupt them. Not now. "Ah, sorry about that," he said. "We can ignore it. It's probably just … Robin." Bellatrix glanced in the phone’s direction, but dismissed it with a shrug. But the phone buzzed as a second message came through, at the same time as Bellatrix instructed. “Again.” Eddie took a stance, but when the phone buzzed again, he gave a defeated shrug. "Look, do you mind if I just—" He tried to slip his way past Bellatrix to grab the phone and silence it, but found her hard to get through. “Phones,” Bellatrix scoffed, holding her ground with her knife at the ready. “It can’t be important if it’s a hext.” But when it buzzed again, a reminder of his unread messages, her curiosity got the better of her. She glanced over her shoulder at the buzzing contraption on the table and her gaze immediately narrowed in on two things — the name of a phoenix, one she recognized as being one of Layla’s former friends, and her own. But when she turned to face her nephew again, she gave nothing away. “Dreadful things,” she said. “Now, where were we?” Eddie stepped closer to try and get a look at the hexts, but when Bellatrix turned to face him again, he hung back. He could hext Alicia back later. He took his stance again. "Anticipating your opponent's next move," he reminded her. “Right,” she said. “With practice, you’ll learn to read your opponents. Even the ones you don’t know.” She readied her knife again and inclined her head to indicate he should do the same. “Take nothing for granted — pay attention. Even the ones you think you’ve figured out may surprise you.” He nodded, half-expecting her to lunge at him any second. He studied her form and expression and something seemed different, just a little, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He may have been imagining it. He felt ready, almost relaxed as he shifted his weight back and forth in an effort to stay nimble. Then, in a move that surprised even him, he took a quick step in toward her like he was moving to attack. "Surprise!" he laughed. Slightly on edge from the hext she’d just read, Bellatrix shuffled a half step backward, the muscles in her arm going taught in anticipation. Confused irritation flicked across her features as he began laughing. After a beat, she joined in, though hers was somewhat forced. “Very clever, Carmichael,” she said, adjusting the grip on her knife. “Let’s go over what we’ve learned so far. Pick up the pace this time. See how quick on your feet you really are.” Eddie moved through the motions she'd taught him like it was choreography, pleased with himself at each right step. "Duck here if they're top-heavy," he narrated as he went, "And go up into the ribs like that. And, when it doubt," he added, standing back to his full height and gesturing his dagger toward his neck, "Just jab them in the carotid artery." “You’re a quick learner,” she said with an appreciative nod, her approval only slightly diminished by the thought she could be training a vigilante and adding to her problems. She intended to find out. “Again, now. This time with a real opponent.” She gave him just enough time to assume his stance before she lunged in with a jab — one that wouldn’t meet its mark, even if he failed to block it. Eddie nimbly side-stepped her attack. His heart pounded at the sudden thrust into action, but he would be lying if he said he wasn't enjoying this a little bit. He parried, unsure about taking the step into attack against the taller and vastly more experienced woman, but kept a defensive posture, keeping himself small and light on his feet as the 'fight' began. “Well done,” she said, hovering for a moment between advances. She looked ready to attack at any moment, but instead she went on to say, “You know, I couldn’t help noticing you’re rather close with several of the younger Gryffindors. The ones who’ve given Montague so much trouble.” "Just … you know, friends from school," Eddie said cautiously. He did not drop his stance but watched her, uneasy at the question and unsure where it would lead next. "I try to stay out of the Gryffindor/Slytherin thing." “Lucky you were a Ravenclaw, then,” she said, her voice still artificially light. “It must be difficult to be friends with Gryffindors and stay out of it, given how obsessed they still seem to be with their childish rivalry.” It was escalated well beyond childish at this point, of course, and with good reason, but that was not a thought Eddie felt he needed to share. "It's not a big deal," he said. "Like you said, it's childish. It—hey!" His arm went up just in time to block her sudden thrust. "I guess we're starting again, then?" “We haven’t stopped,” Bellatrix said and withdrew her knife with a smirk. “As I was saying, I’m sure it can’t have surprised you to hear the Gryffindors have ties to the Order of the Phoenix. The only bit that does surprise me is they’ve managed to keep it secret so long.” "Everybody always underestimates the young ones," Eddie said. He made a half-hearted move against her to keep momentum, but there was a prickling at the base of his spine that something was wrong, that he should stay guarded and not open himself up to attack. “Do they?” Bellatrix asked while easily side-stepping his move. She gave him a surprise of her own next, rushing forward and pinning him back against his bookshelf with one arm across his chest. The other held her knife, the tip of it pressing lightly against his ribs. “Drop the knife, Carmichael. And drop the act. Tell me what you know.” "What?" Everything happened too quickly for Eddie to process. He did not drop the knife, but was keenly aware of hers; he could feel it with every fearful breath he took. "What the fuck? What I know about what?" “About the Order. Your friends. The reason you just got a hext from one of them warning you I was on my way.” She poked the knife a bit more insistently in his side. “And I said drop it.” He squirmed instinctively away from the knife, but Bellatrix was too strong. "I—I don't know," Eddie said, too quickly. "I don't know what you're talking about. I—Look, okay, I'm dropping the knife." He made a point of letting it clatter to the ground. "Please, I—" Bellatrix heard the knife hit the floor but she didn’t take her eyes off his. “Are you working with them?” "No," Eddie insisted. Fear danced in his eyes as he met hers. "I'm not. I'm not." “There’s no point in lying,” Bellatrix said, pressing harder against his chest, knowing the shelves behind him were digging into his shoulders. “Tell me the truth or I’ll —” Pounding at the door of Eddie’s flat tore her attention away for a beat. When Bellatrix’s eyes locked on his again, they were narrowed, furious. She didn’t know how he’d done it without her noticing, but somehow he must’ve told the Order he was in trouble. “That’s them, isn’t it?” “No!” Eddie said, his volume raising to match his adrenaline and desperation. “I don’t know who it is. I don’t know who’s there!” By now he was yelling, praying the stranger would understand and identify themselves. On the other side of the door, an alarmed Rabastan heard raised voices, but he couldn’t quite make out the words. Was this overzealous training from Bellatrix or had something gone awry? The worst case scenario played out in his mind as he took several steps back, his wand aloft. One beat later, a well-aimed curse blasted Eddie’s door in with a loud BANG! Bellatrix jumped at the sound, fully anticipating vigilantes to come pouring into the room. She abandoned Eddie and her knife, instead reaching for her wand as she spun toward the door. But down the end of her pointed wand, it wasn’t the poorly disguised stranger she’d expected. “Rabastan?” She lowered her wand, her eyebrows furrowing. “What are you doing here?” “I heard you were here,” came Rabastan’s curt reply, his eyes narrowing as he strode through the doorway. A muscle in his jaw worked as eyed Bellatrix, hot anger coursing through his veins. “Why are you here? What, exactly, do you think you’re doing?” “How did you know I was —” Her frown deepened. “Narcissa. Of course.” What followed was a bluster of an explanation. “I’m instructing him on how to use his knife, since you insist upon treating him like he’s still a child. Anyway, he asked me to teach him.” She threw her arm out in a gesture toward the boy without taking her eyes off Rabastan. “He’s fine.” Behind her, Eddie tried to find his words but couldn't seem to get the breath he needed to speak. A warm, sharp sensation his brain did not quite recognize as pain radiated from his midsection. He looked down and blinked in confusion as his eyes registered what his clutching hands had already discovered: Bellatrix's knife lodged into his ribs. Rabastan stared at his son and the knife jutting out of his ribs for a fraction of a moment that spun itself out infinitely. His gaze clung to the dark, glistening stain in his shirt as his brain whited out. And then he moved without a second thought, arms circling around Eddie as he pulled him close, safe against his chest. He didn’t spare Bellatrix another look before disapparating from the flat with a loud crack! |