Luag Chambers (dragons_shadow) wrote in afic, @ 2011-04-01 14:03:00 |
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Current mood: | anxious |
Who: Luag Chambers with NPC Ruaridh MacFusty and mentions of Old Man MacFusty and Terry Boot.
What: The plan doesn't go as planned and Luag goes to the only people he trusts to help.
Where: Old Man MacFusty's house on the Outer Hebrides
When: Friday, 1 April 2005, morning, soon after this post
Rating: PG-13/R for language? There's the F-bomb in there.
Luag stood with his arms crossed over his chest and his jaw clenched. The chairs were jammed against the wall of the kitchen and Luag’s great grandfather and uncle stood hunched over the old, heavy wood table, inspecting Terry’s prone body. He hated just standing there and doing nothing, but if his great grandfather couldn’t figure out what was wrong with Terry, he likely wouldn’t have a clue anyways. It didn’t stop him from shifting nervously though and trying to go over every possible thing it could be. The tension that had filled the room after he had brought Terry in didn’t help his anxiety either, especially since he knew that it had nothing to do with figuring out the fellow Ravenclaw’s injuries. He wasn’t surprised at all when, after a quiet exchange, his uncle grabbed his arm and dragged him into the front hall.
“What trouble are you bringing here?” growled Ruaridh in Gàidhlig as he shoved Luag against the wall. Even though Luag had been the same height as Ruaridh for years, he still felt like his uncle towered over him, whether it was just because of the presence that Ruaridh gave off or because his uncle still had more bulk to him that Luag didn’t.
“I couldn’t take him to St. Mungo’s,” started Luag, slipping into Gàidhlig automatically. When the portkey brought Terry through in such a ragged shape, it hadn’t taken Luag long to decide to come here. While he didn’t get on all the time, they were his clan and he knew they’d help him. That they would stand by him through this even if they were angry at him. He could trust them to not toss Terry right back to the Ministry while there was no guarantee he could get in contact with a Healer who wouldn’t just turn them all in.
“Dead right,” snapped Ruaridh. “He’s a traitor and you’ve brought him to our doorstep! What are you going to do when they come looking for him?!”
“No one knows he’s here.” Which wasn’t really true. Anthony at least knew and who knew how many people he had told. And there was Nate of course, but he trusted Nate even more than he trusted his clan.
“What if he has one of those tracking devices in him?”
Luag had to admit he hadn’t thought of that, but he shook his head. “If he had one of those, they would be here by now...” Even though he was sure of the words, both of them fell silent and looked towards the door, their senses stretching out as far as they could to make sure that it really was the truth. “I destroyed everything that came through with him before I came here. Nate knows-” He glanced down at his left arm and breathed out a sigh that the tattoo on his arm was still black. “-but he’s safe.”
Silence stretched across the room and Luag figured he must have disrupted his uncle’s train of thought in his rant by bringing up the topic of another longer standing rant. He watched Ruaridh pace the entry hall, mentally preparing himself for whatever round of yelling was next or if it would actually include a few punches this time. Finally, Ruaridh stopped in front of him and huffed out a long breath as he rested his hands on his waist.
“This reserve- this clan- has survived centuries by avoiding this shit.” Ruaridh gestured back towards the kitchen where Terry lay. “When the battle comes here, we fight, but this isn’t our battle, Luag, and it never has been. But if you keep bringing this here-”
“I’m not bringing it here, Ruaridh!” snapped Luag before he shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. “They are bringing this fight to us, one way or another. We can’t sit this one out. For fuck’s sake, they’re bringing in no name Halfbloods because they hand out a flier and are calling them a traitor.” He waved his hand towards the kitchen before he puffed out a sigh. “What if they decide Bell is worth arresting? Do you think that everyone’ll sit by and let them take her? What if they decide that dragons are too dangerous for a centuries old Pureblood family to have power over?” His jaw tensed. “Or that we aren’t sane enough to trust with them because of our blood?”
He knew he hit a nerve as Ruaridh’s whole body went tense and his face flushed in anger. He paused a moment before he lowered his voice to continue. “What if Lorna gets pregnant and they take the baby?”
Silence hung in the air again. It was a thought that none of them liked to think about, but there was no way that Lorna would be content playing Quidditch until she was old and gray and not have any children. Everyone knew that Quidditch was about the only thing keeping her from getting knocked up right now.
“We might not have supported the Death Eaters,” Luag continued softly, “but we didn’t help fight them either. Anyone interested enough can see that we’re purist enough to care about lineages. All they have to do is look at how Davina and I are treated compared to everyone else.”
Ruaridh’s jaw worked and Luag knew he wanted to say something, but considering how these conversations normally went, anything he said would just feed back into the point that Luag was making because it all came down to duty towards his family. They stared at each other for a long moment before Ruaridh let out a heavy sigh, his body deflating a bit as he moved his focus to the kitchen doorway again. Luag followed his gaze and crossed his arms over his chest again as he watched his great grandfather work over Terry worriedly.
“Is he going to be alright?” Luag finally asked, his soft voice barely breaking the quiet that had settled over them.
“He needs an experienced Healer,” said Ruaridh without any hesitation. Pussy footing around tough topics wasn’t really a trait taught up on the isles. Life was too harsh to begin with and when you added dragons into the mix, it was just easier to be straight forward rather than gentle. “Very experienced in spell damage.”
Luag was quiet as that slowly sunk in and his brow furrowed in worry. “Can any of our-” he said in slowly drawn out words.
Ruaridh shook his head. “None of them can deal with this sort of injury. We don’t even know what hit him or if the portkey fucked with the spell at all...”
“And only someone from St. Mungo’s could do that...” finished Luag in a big whoosh of breath. It wasn’t supposed to be like this... They were helping Terry, getting him out, getting him away and free. Not this... Turning away from the kitchen, he ran a hand over his face as he took a deep breath. There was no way they could take him to St. Mungo’s. He would be as good as dead there anyways. Or worse... “Is there anything we can do?”
“Not without the spell. All we can do is keep him going and ease his pain.” Luag glanced over at his uncle, his brow furrowing in confusion. There was a note of tenderness and a soft tone to his uncle’s voice that he couldn’t remember ever having heard before. He stared at his uncle a long time before he nodded slowly. He glanced down and breathed out a sigh. Still black. Still safe. “I’m going to look through the books.” He doubted that the books his great grandfather had would really have anything worthwhile in them, but it was at least something to do. He headed towards the reception room and was at the doorway when his uncle spoke again.
“Luag?”
He paused and turned, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe. “Aye?”
“You have your father’s heart.”
Luag couldn’t help his whole body going tense and his feet shifting back a step in an instinctual movement of defense. The topic of his father never came up in conversation, unless as a way to guilt him into doing something he wasn’t happy about. It was a sore spot for all of them, but in different ways, and the fact that Ruaridh was facing away from him as he spoke didn’t help to calm the automatic wariness jangling his nerves. “What do you mean?”
There was a long pause and for a moment Luag wondered if Ruaridh was going to answer or if he had really meant his stepfather and was trying to think of an appropriate insult.
“Everyone up here knows that once a kelpie’s gotten someone completely underwater, they’re a lost cause. Few would jump in after one, even for their only son.”
Luag’s eyes went wide and his mouth hung open a little as the words sunk in and muddled his brain, making his hard to think, especially considering the look that Ruaridh had turned to give him.
“Be careful with that, you ken?” finished Ruaridh and it took Luag a few long moments before he nodded slowly in acknowledgement of the compliment and warning. Ruaridh nodded in return before turning back towards the kitchen. “Take the week off. We’ll get one of the locals to tend the flock for a bit. After that... well, we’ll see what happens...”
Luag’s throat went dry as he nodded again, understanding what his uncle wasn’t saying. That the week wasn’t just a time to recover over the loss that would likely happen before the end of the day. It was a punishment. A precaution. Cutting the weak from the herd to occupy the predators if they really came up here hunting. A test to see what the Ministry was actually willing to do and how much they actually suspected. And while it made Luag feel sick to his stomach, he understood the strategy all too well. Better for one to fall than to start a war that they hadn’t fully thought over. Taking a deep breath, he looked down at the tattoo on his arm again for reassurance before he turned back to the reception room and the impossible task of finding the exact right spell and it’s cure.