dante avery (infernos) wrote in disorderic, @ 2018-05-27 22:12:00 |
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Entry tags: | dante avery, demeter wiggleswade, john dawlish |
WHO: Dante Avery, John Dawlish & Demeter Wiggleswade
WHAT: John & Demeter track Dante down.
WHEN: May 27
WHERE: Somewhere on the coast near Plymouth
WARNINGS: Fire?
The magic surrounding his cottage had brought the unwanted visitors to his attention before he saw them. He shivered. He’d wasted time here, wallowing in self-pity and nursing his wounds that didn’t seem to be getting any better. He could have, should have run. He should have left and not looked back. It would have meant running for the rest of his life, however. Dante hadn’t managed to decide which option was preferable. They would have found him one way or another. He wouldn’t have been able to hide forever. Right? He waited for someone to trigger one of the explosive enchantments he’d set up, and his eyes darted towards the lone painting in the room. The cottage had been hidden fairly well, but John knew that it was to be expected -- the Averys were clever if nothing else, and he didn’t put it past any of them to have more nefarious magic surrounding the property. His gaze wandered over to Demeter, his wand held steadily to his right, and he gave her the ‘ready’ signal -- they had practiced this numerous times. They knew exactly what to do. John spewed out a half dozen offensive spells at the property, letting the property wards trigger. “Avery, we know you’re here!” his voice boomed out loud. Demeter followed suit on his signal, determination etched on her face. Inside, Dante could hear the explosions. One last chance, he thought. Even though he’d told Violet he was leaving everything he owned to their son, he’d rigged it as a last resort, set to burn at his cue. He could leave and let it burn behind him. His legacy -- one of murder and violence for reasons no one would ever truly comprehend -- was going to be his son’s legacy whether he liked it or not, because the world was cruel, and the people who ran the DMLE were cruel, had always been. If he left a trail, they’d use his son to find him. He had no doubt about that. He lit the painting on fire first, and then turned to look out the front window. “You could just leave.” Demeter had her wand raised and ready for more spells, ever the professional. It had been a while since she’d had an opportunity like this, and she was firm in her resolve to ensure they didn’t leave without Avery. “I think we all know that isn’t what’s going to happen, Dante,” voice loud, calm and commanding. Demeter glanced to the door, the windows, briefly surveying the property. “We’ll give you a count of three.” “One…,” John started, his gaze unwavering from the door of the cottage. “Two…” And several long seconds later, “Three.” John sent a blasting curse at the door, determined to shred the door to pieces. He kept his wand ready, but didn’t send a barrage of spells afterward, in case Avery had a change of heart and surrendered on his own. John didn’t count on it, not with how this was panning out already. Dante had guessed what might happen next, so he’d backed away, crossed the room so he was standing in front of his father’s burning painting. He was afraid: of what was to come, of dying at anyone’s hands, of what sort of life his sister might have if he’d tried to leave. He closed his eyes. He could make it easier. “You didn’t have to do that,” he called out, right before he gave up on standing and sank to the floor against the wall opposite the painting. He hadn’t trimmed his beard in a week and a half, wasn’t sure when the last time he ate was. His hands shook. “If you could just let me die here, that would… at least I’ll have a view.” Demeter was quick to move forwards, through the door with her wand raised. “You’re not dying today, Avery,” she insisted, still in that commanding yet calm way that she used when apprehending a suspect that didn’t appear to be fighting back. She hoped that he’d come quietly, or at least not resist them. “Drop your wand, and we can get this over with,” Demeter continued. John let Demeter take the lead on this, preferring to stay a step behind her. His wand was pointed at Avery, but a scoff escaped his lips. “There’s no way you’re getting out of this, so it’s in your best interest to cooperate with us.” Dante tossed his wand over near them, but he didn’t get up. He didn’t even look at them. “This is going to keep happening, you know.” He’d had a lot of time to think - about the things everyone had said, the things Violet believed in. He’d seen Lord Voldemort come to power twice and the Ministry had been helpless to stop it. Grindlewald had wreaked havoc before that, and no one learned. “None of you are going to be able to stop it next time. You couldn’t this time. You couldn’t before.” He waved a hand in a rough approximation of a circle. “It all happens again and again, we sign our children up to a half-life and no one thinks to figure out how to prevent that in the first place, and on and on it goes. On and on. We always end up here.” He was stalling, or delirious, or both, though he didn’t have a plan. He just wanted to wait, just a little longer. Demeter rolled her eyes dismissively, summoning his wand and catching it in her spare hand. If Avery was right, and they were doomed to repeat these mistakes ad infinitum, at least they’d always return to some kind of defeat of evil. Jaw set, she was unable and unwilling to give words to what she’d seen that might agree with him. She refused to agree with the idea that the collective struggles and misery of the past years weren’t over, even when she knew the words he spoke registered somewhere in her thoughts. No. Instead — “Dante Avery, you’re under arrest.” She sent arresting chains towards his arms. John had always subscribed to the notion that history tended to rhyme, not repeat. He scoffed at Avery’s implication but didn’t respond. He instead followed up Demeter’s arresting chains with one of his own. “Time to get back to the Ministry,” he commented, finally. “You’ll see,” Dante mumbled, his eyes flickering between the two sets of chains. This again, he thought. He was going to go proper mad this time. “I’m sure now you think you’re heroes, but give it ten, twenty years and you’ll see. None of you paid enough attention and everyone’s stuck in their own heads. And it’s not going to change now either. Because you don’t know what’s broken and no one’s smart enough to look in the right place. But I know. I know.” He looked up finally, and blinked, lifting his bound hands to scrub at his face and hide how he was definitely, absolutely crying. “Go on, get it over with already. I don’t much care what you do with me.” With any luck, he’d end up like Nott. He hoped so, anyway. Then he wouldn’t have to see everything fall apart again because no one took any time to understand why he’d joined in the first place. “Oh, shut up,” John quickly responded, rolling his eyes in the process. Not wanting to hear more of Avery’s monologue, he sent a Silencio at him, then turned to Demeter. “Ready?” Demeter was ignoring most of the speech, despite still finding some agreement in what he said, reciting his rights without hesitation. She finished as John spoke, giving him a nod in agreement. “Ready.” But she had one last thing to say to Avery before they left, scathing as she turned to face him before grabbing his arm to disapparate with him. “That’s where you’re wrong, Avery. I don’t think we’re heroes. We’re just doing our job.” |