|pl_lavender (pl_lavender) wrote in plagued_rpg,|
@ 2010-01-04 14:00:00
|Entry tags:||!plot, 1999 january, gabriel bole, gwenog jones, hogwarts: courtyard, lavender brown, megan jones|
Who: Lavender Brown and Gabriel Bole; Gwenog and Megan Jones (Grabme!)
What: a case of mistaken identity
Where: The grounds in front of the school
When: This afternoon
Rating: HIGH for violence.
Despite Parvati's reassurance that her hair didn't look that bad, Lavender was still very annoyed with the red locks. Even more annoying was the fact that Lavender for the life of her could not figure out how to get the red to go away. She wasn't sure what she had done, but she was fairly certain that the massive mess of red hair that now adorned her head was some sort of punishment for some misdeed she had committed in a past life. Still, even with her hair the way it was she still didn't want to be stuck in the castle all day.
The fog had two benifits, the first one being that it hid you (bad hair and all). If people couldn't see you, nothing bad could happen, it was almost like walking around in an invisibility cloak, only of course, while others couldn't really see you, you couldn't really see them. The second went right along with the first, you could do almost anything out here in the mist and no one would know it was you, not unless you wanted them too.
It felt almost a tiny bit freeing to know that nobody was watching her. Nobody was waiting to gossip about her, mostly because all they would see in the mist that they were living in was the silhouette of a skinny red headed girl in winter clothing.
Someone out there liked him, that much was obvious, because this mist was a blessing. Bole didn't even need to hide. He could walk as freely as he liked across the grounds without fear of being spotted. He felt invincible!
The only problem was that it made it so much harder to locate someone else. Which meant that students were sliding past him every day, and Bole was none the wiser.
But that was about to change. He'd make sure of that.
He walked up to the school as if he owned it, marching through the mist like some sort of Lord, his cloak billowing out behind him. He'd been planning to march straight inside and kill the first person he saw, but plans change. Nothing is written in stone.
Like a flash of fire, a shock of red hair appeared in the mist. Red hair, bright, not like a Weasley. No, it looked like Demelza! The Robins girl he'd buried and tormented.
Oh it had been far too long!
A smile curled on his lips and his face twisted with dark pleasure as he changed direction and crept through the mist like a ghost, intent on one thing; seeing the terror on Demelza's face.
Lavender was rather comforted by the silence of the walk she was taking. There were so many people in the castle (and it seemed like more people were showing up everyday) that anywhere you went inside was bustling with life and noise. On most days, Lavender loved this fact, but today she just wanted some alone time. And she was alone until she heard what sounded like someone walking behind her.
Lavender turned on her heel and tried to squint into the mist, not really seeing anything. She bit her lip and tried to keep her panic down, it was probably nothing. "Hello?" She called out at the other person. "Who's there?"
Bole kept a certain distance, just out of clear sight. A snake in the grass, a ghost in the mist. His fingers had closed around his wand, his smile wide and crooked, tongue running over the edge of his teeth as he watched her. He knew she felt him.
And he knew she was unsure, unsteady. Scared.
Fear. Oh the intoxicating elixir that made him dizzy with its scent.
Without a warning, anything to give her hint to flee, Bole lashed forwards and grabbed a harsh fistful of her hair, wrenching her head back so he could stand over her, his wand tip pressed against her throat.
Only it wasn't her. His smile faded as his anticipation of seeing the expression on his past victim's face. It wasn't her. It wasn't fucking her.
His expression twisted into a snarl of anger, "You're not her! sectumsempra!"
One clean sweep of his wand across her throat sliced her windpipe and jugular vein clean open, like a fountain of red, splashing blood across the snow they'd trampled, "Filthy bitch." He muttered, holding her head back, so he could watch her eyes as she bled out over his hand.
Lavender took a deep breath and had began to walk in a direction that would hopefully take her back towards the school. She had almost shook the horrible feeling when something caught her hair and yanked her neck back hard. Lavender let out a loud scream, tears pouring out of her eyes the second she felt his wand against her neck. She tried pulling away, trying to get away, she just need a second to get her wand.
"Please, Please don't" she gasped out at him, begging him. She hadn't heard what he said and if she had it wouldn't have processed in her panicked brain. She felt an intense pain slid across her neck and felt her blood flow out. Her tears only came out quicker.
Her vision was going in and out of focus, slipping from Boles face to her memories. Happy images slid passed her eyes and an almost pleasant feeling took over, slowly replaced by nothingness.
Bole watched the blood continue to pump from her throat, her heart trying desperately to get oxygen to her brain, unable to stop until it, too, starved. It was like a shot of morphine straight to his stomach. He felt soothed by it as he watched the light fade in her eyes and felt her tensed muscles and resistence fade away;. He dropped her into a pile, looking down at her as if he'd simply dropped an empty wrapper.
No compassion. No regret.
A smile began to curl on his lips again. His heart started to race, adrenline began racing like fire through his veins. He knelt down and tore open her shirt, exposing her skin, still warm with fading life. The tip of his wand traced across her stomach, slicing through her skin and flesh. Blood beaded gently but didn't run. There was nothing to push it forward now. It was slowly congealing within her body.
He traced his name, big and bright and bold.
And then, because he'd said he would, he leaned down and bit her. He bit her hard, so hard his teeth sank through her skin. Hard enough to leave a mark, and blood on his teeth. He giggled with glee and licked his lips, his tongue a deep red colour.
And then he was done. It was enough he knew. It was the spark to start another fire. A different kind of fire. She was the spark, and he was the fire. And he was going to burn his way through every person he could find. Filthy mudbloods and muggles alike. Bole would burn them till they were dirt and dust.
Oh, he was going to have such fun.
He left her body there, crumpled and cold in the trampled, bloodied snow beneath her body. Let them find her, and let them be afraid, because it was his warning to them.