Seren Fawcett-Finnigan (bryd) wrote in whatprice, @ 2009-05-26 21:23:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | heather jones, seren fawcett |
...mangle flesh, snapping spine, dripping bloody valentine...
Who: Seren Fawcett-Finnigan & Heather Jones
What: A near capture
Where: Northern English countryside
When: Late Tuesday night, 26 May, 2009
Rating: R (language, violence)
Status: Log;Complete
Ever since the muggles had destroyed the cornerstones of wizarding society Seren had been forced to spend more time in muggle areas. Despite having her sons explain the tube station to her and various other excursions, she had never quite learnt to be comfortable there. There was a patient, however, recently seen by Argyle who had requested attention at home, citing their condition as a restriction in their travel. As such, Argyle had requested Seren see to the patient. It was late and he was busy at Eryri. With the boys both passed out in a heap at home and Seamus there to be with them she found no harm in taking the trip to check over his patient despite it being her day off. Leaving work completely behind had always been a problem for her.
The examination had been quick, merely a severe burn the witch could not heal herself due to the lack of burn paste supplies. Seren had wrapped her hair up in a bun and used her wand to hold it in place much as Luna had when they were children. She did not do so in order to keep her hair off her neck or face so much as to have her wand handy. It was so hard to slip such a thing away without being noticed while wearing the wretched fashions muggles kept to. She was tugging on her top, attempting to convince it to cling a bit less to her torso as she walked down the street, looking for an appropriately quiet and unwatched place from which she could apparate.
Jones had been following the witch since she left the home. It amazed her how naive these witches were despite their years of murder. She could see the point of a wand protruding from beneath the russet waves of hair, as carelessly twisted in as any hair pick.
Well. Morley had wanted a subject. Now she had one.
She had to wait until they reached the field, keeping her steps steady as she moved. The tall blades of grass were murmuring in the wind, golden waves swaying against her jeans, brushing the back of her knees as she walked. The two women moved deeper and deeper into the amber, Heather's hair blending with it like a lioness stalking her prey. Her fingers slid into her jacket, pulling out the gun and cocking the trigger. The safety was off, the silencer on.
She lifted it, pointing it directly at the woman's back.
She loved the sound that a silenced gun made, mostly air and whir. It sounded like the whistling of a lover who'd lost his breath.
It was a sharp, sudden pain in her lower back at first. She stumbled forward but did not fall, grace helping her regain her step as blades of grass attempted to push her up. Shock, she realised after, must have been the culprit for the numbness she felt until Seren became aware of the slow spread of warmth on her back. Then it hit her. The pain. It was fierce and insistent, lancing through her side and as she put her hand to her stomach she felt the moist warmth under her hand. Looking down, she saw the darkening of her shirt and the ragged hole. Her mind did not wish to catch up, it did not want her to know this thing. Her head turned just soon enough for her to see the cause of this before she was forced to the ground, her knee collapsing under her.
Heather's hand shoved the woman down into the dirt, the heel of it pressed tight against the back of her head. The gun was pressed firmly into the small of the redhead's back as she ripped the wand from her hair, shoving it into her own back pocket.
"You have thirty seconds to explain yourself." She spat out, fingers still pressing down. She lifted the woman's head out of the mud long enough for her to breathe.
Seren was terrified, but the thought of her sons being left without her and what Seamus would do when she never returned scared her more. Her fingers dug into the earth beneath them and were buried there for a moment. She gasped as her head was pulled up out of the mud, coughing it up while she tried to suck in air.
"Explain what?" Her voice was panicked and high pitched, but the long grass hid her hands and the faint glow which had begun under her skin as the earth answered her begging and magic jumped to her.
"Start with your name. House. Family." The gun nuzzled her back, pushing up her shirt so that the witch could feel the heat of the metal.
Seren gritted her teeth. She may not have been much of a dueller, but she certainly wasn't a push over either. Her stubbornness saw to that. "And who are you to demand such things beyond a lunatic with a firearm?"
"I'm the lunatic with the firearm," Heather said coldly.
"Not good enough." Seren pulled. Her fingers burrowed deeper into the mud and she pulled whatever energy would come to her, whatever magic which would help. This wasn't controlled. This wasn't even formed enough as it should have been, but it was all she had and the grasses parted as the glow in her hands intensified and quickly travelled up her arms.
Then she squeezed her eyes shut and shoved all that energy at the woman. Seren wasn't sure what sending magic into a nonmagical person would do, but this woman was one of those responsible for the loss of her brother and she found herself not believing all life was sacred on those grounds.
The energy caught Heather and surged into her. She could feel her arms suddenly strengthening as she lunged forward, whipping her sidearm against the other woman's face before the surge propelled her back. Her knees bent, kissing the ground as she squeezed off another shot, her aim gone wild as she fought the electricity jerking her limbs, her jaw rattling as it ripped through her.
Seren scrambled on the ground, watching the woman and getting out of the way as much as possible. The knee which had been blown out by the second shot screamed in agony but she kept moving, whispering in Welsh to thank the earth for it's help as she moved. As the blonde's body stopped convulsing, Seren crawled over quickly and attempted to snatch her wand out of the woman's pocket. Her fingers closed around it and then she moved. Seren froze for a moment, unsure if it was more convulsions from the magic or the woman gaining mobility. Her sense returning a moment later, she attempted to whip her hand, wand grasped within it, away from the woman's body.
Heather's hand shot up before she did, pulling the trigger instinctively and watching as the elbow in front of her shattered, bits of blood and bone spattering her eyelids as she blinked. With a quick roll, she slipped to her knees, the gun pointed directly at the other woman's head.
"Answer the question, bitch. I'm not out of bullets."
Seren would not scream, but she tasted blood as she bit down on her lip to keep the sound inside. Her fingers let go of her wand at once, her entire arm below the elbow suddenly useless. She saw where her wand had fallen and began to mutter. The grass blew in a breeze that did not exist and covered it while she glared at the woman.
"You have no class." Seren's right hand wrapped around her wand, the grip comfortable after the Romanian's made her learn to cast with it. They had disapproved of casting with the left hand. The wand was shoved into the woman's arm holding the gun and Seren thought simply, Incendio.
"You've got no teeth." She dropped the gun and went for fists, lashing out into the other woman's mouth with a sharp jab. It was time to put her down.
Seren had no defence and her mind had gone blank. All she could think to do was try to curl into a ball, wand cradled protectively so she could not lose the one defence she had should she think of something useful. Her attention was occupied on the fists, the ache in her mouth and the fresh rush of blood over her tongue.
"Christ. Pathetic." It was obvious this one wasn't a fighter. Heather reached into her jacket, still sore from the spell that had coursed through her and pulled out a pair of steel cuffs, swiftly reaching down to jerk her arm up.
Seren screamed as new agony shot through her ruined arm. She hadn't wanted to risk bringing the lunatic with her. She didn't know what would happen if she apparated with physical contact when the other party wasn't cooperating with the spell but she didn't have a choice. She didn't know what those metal cuffs would do to her, but she was sure it wouldn't be pretty.
Her concentration was faltering, her body crying in pain and her head woozy from having been hit with the firearm. Yet Seren managed to disapparate just before the metal circlet closed around her wrist. She landed in the waiting room of Eryri Ysbyty and heard a wet, sickening thwip as something landed on the floor as she crumpled down to it. She saw a cut of flesh and cloth, likely part of that woman's leg. Thick pools of blood began to form around her knee and elbow on the ground and Seren couldn't feel anything but pain, couldn't think around it to speak.
She was staring at the severed flesh when the mediwitch found her. All Seren managed was to whisper, "I want Eli," before her world was consumed in blackness, muting out the pain at last.