Fenrir thinks you're pretty when you cry. (unmuzzled) wrote in an_ill_wind, @ 2009-08-20 02:56:00 |
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Oh, it was such a busy month really. Fenrir never would have admitted, but he was rather enjoying being asked to go on these little runs. It was one thing certainly, to be told to do something that one hated. But more and more, he was growing accustomed to this idea of following orders. It wasn't a bad set up, really. The Dark Lord got what he wanted. Fenrir got what he wanted. And he really only answered to one man. And so, again, with his motley crew of a pack, he descended upon the Jorkins household. Their crime? Well, he didn't rightly know himself. Nor did he very much care. Blood was blood and so long as Fenrir appetite was sufficiently sated at the end of the night, that was all he really cared about anyway. Roger vs Maleificient & Essa Essa apparated to the outside of the house and paused when she arrived, catching her breath. Over the past month, she had fashioned a staff out of a tree branch, wanting a stick of her own. But her stick wasn't one of those tiny unnatural things these wizards waved at people. Her stick was big enough to beat a man with. In Essa's mind, it was perfect. Fenrir had told her before hand that she would be partnered with the hag Maleficient. Generally speaking, Essa preferred to work with the other women, so she wasn't complaining. She followed the others into the house, cautiously, knowing that there were a good deal of people in this house. She didn't want them to wake up just yet. As they all split up, Essa was slowly getting herself back into focus, trying to summon the energy required to perform a killing scream. Even if she could only stun with her scream, she could still beat someone to death. It was with that thought that she entered a room, ready for a fight. Maleficient was very nearly on sensory overload, given all of the adventures they'd been on lately, and though she hadn't been able to eat nearly as much as she'd have liked to, she was still beyond excited to be included in another mission. She lumbered along after the others as she always did, more than happy to follow their lead, and she hovered near the banshee, her curiosity almost as high as her anticipation (for she'd never seen an actual banshee before, and she found the entire idea of them to be fascinating; she'd tried to kill with her scream, but all it resulted in was nearly giving a child a heart attack, and a sore throat for her - highly unsatisfying.) She was unarmed as usual, save for her teeth and nails, the latter which was currently digging into her callused palms to keep from clapping her hands together in sheer happiness. Tonight she would kill, she was sure of it. Okay, or at the very least, finally get a satisfying meal out of one of these expeditions. As Essa moved into the room, the hag directly behind her, she noticed a man coming towards her with one of those sticks pointed at her. Suddenly a jet of red light was shooting at her, and she only just managed to drop to the floor in time. The quick attack made her lose her concentration, so a scream was not possible. Instead she lunged at the man, bringing the staff down on his wand hand with a growl. The wand fell out of his hand and she continued to beat the man. He was swatting at her desperately, and managed to knock her out of the way. Maleficient squealed in a combination of fright and exhilaration, watching the jet of red light and then the ensuing attack, hands finally clapping together as the banshee and the man wrestled. She wasn't entirely keen on being injured, but the temptation to try to get a bite (or fifty) in was entirely too tempting. She skittered out of the way when the man knocked Essa out of his way, and, seeing her opportunity, pounced on him from the side. "Ah ha!" she said gleefully, sinking her nails into his arms as she used her considerable weight to keep him from running (for the time being.) "Don't like fighting for food!" Well, that wasn't entirely true, but it wasn't as fun when the bigger ones fought. She grinned, however, revealing her jagged teeth, and lunged, managing a very satisfying bite to the man's shoulder. Roger shouted in pain when Maleficient yanked her head back, taking a considerable chunk out of his shoulder in the process, and he felt his stomach wrench horribly as the hag laughed happily, alternating between chewing the hunk of his own skin and literally trying to catch his spurting blood on her tongue as though she were a child catching snowflakes. His reaction only made it all the better for Maleficient, who snarled and went in for another bite, this time taking a chunk of flesh from the top of his shoulder. Roger tried to drop his weight and struggle away, but Maleficient, for once, had the advantage. Essa struggled to her feet, slightly bruised from being pushed into a table. Sensing nothing broken, she stood back and watched the hag's attack for a moment, mesmerized. She really was a force to be reckoned with, this Maleficient. When Roger started to almost get away, Essa snapped out of her trance and brought the staff down swiftly on his head. The staff landed with a thud, and became quickly sticky with the man's blood. Roger didn't pass out from the blow to the head, but his eyes glazed over and his actions became slower. He teetered a bit, still in the hag's grasp. He would be losing consciousness soon, he could feel it. But he swatted at the hideous woman in vain, trying to delay the inevitable. Maleficient squeaked when Essa soundly hit the man in the head with her staff, blinking at a spray of blood that shot over her face. She tried her best to lick it all off, although quickly realised she would not actually be able to reach her eyebrow with her tongue, and then focused on the now slow and wounded prey before them. Oh, it was so easy, this time! Easier even than a child, with the way he was teetering and all unfocused and all of that loveliness. "Tsk tsk," she said happily, pushing her fingers into the man's head wound to try a bite - delicious, as anticipated. Roger moaned, his head throbbing, the pain shooting all the way down to the tips of his toes. He knew he was going to pass out, but he knew he absolutely could not; if he did, there was no way he would come out of this alive. He struggled again, putting all of his effort into staying conscious and getting out of the hag's grip. Maleficient, however, had other ideas, and she was quite sure the banshee did as well. "No no," she said, shaking her head with a giggle. "Ours now." She grappled with the man for a moment, but she was stronger now that he was injured, and she latched onto the man's ear, tearing at it like a dog until she ripped it clean from the side of his head, very nearly chirping with success. Essa was torn between satisfaction and revulsion as she watched the hag work. Of course, she delighted in causing humans pain, especially male humans, but eating them....? The very thought made Essa shudder. How anyone could eat the flesh off of something was beyond her. Suddenly the man shouted in pain as the hag tore his ear off. Essa jumped at the noise, and instinctively struck the man in the head again, hard. It was more of a knee-jerk reaction than anything else. The second hit made a loud crack effectively splitting his skull, and he went limp in the hag's arms, effecively dead. Essa looked at Maleficient with her head cocked to the side. "Sorry," she said with a shrug, in the light tone of someone who just ate the last cookie. "Hey!" Maleficient protested, pouting up at the banshee when her dinner went limp, and she could swear she felt his flesh grow colder that instant. She hated cold dinners (though of course that would hardly keep her from eating. Priorities, after all.) The man had been struggling so valiently and with so much effort, but how could she really complain when she had a lapful of dinner? Especially after so many unsatisfying end results before this? "Is fine," she said, with a shrug of her own, and then bit hard into the man's jugular, ripping out the tendons and the vein and the flesh around them. That was still deliciously hot and fresh, and really, things were alright in her world at that moment. A resounding success, she'd say, if she knew what the word 'resounding' meant. Or was. Catherine vs Henry Henry turned the knob and shoved open the door viciously, almost having to recoil and step backward when it came hurtling back at him. Whoever was in the room - to be honest, he hadn't anticipated anybody being there, he just wanted to steal some things to read perhaps - had taken the chance, while he was wasting time messing around with the door that bounced, to cast an expelliarmus at him - it was successful. It was in that moment, that very second, when Henry watched his wand leave his own hand and fly across the room - away from him - that he snapped. It was as if this girl was the last nail in the coffin, the last straw, the thing to top off all the other things that had been building up and manifesting themselves in his own dysfunctional mind. It almost seemed like a lifetime, slow motion, until it finally hit a bookcase and dropped to the floor. His wand, for him, since his first turning, was the only thing he had left to prove his humanity. He hurt people, killed people, laughed at people who thought they had it worse than him, oh - and he turned into a werewolf once every month. His wand was the one thing that made him a wizard and not one of these stereotypical vicious and disgusting creatures like Fenrir had become. And now it was gone. Henry was flying towards the terrified young woman fast, faster than he had known he could be, and she seemed to panic and merely screamed. By the time she had brought it together to cast a spell at him Henry was upon her, shoving her body into the wall harshly and screaming. Sometimes it was words, curses, questions, and other times it was just screaming - his stream of consciousness. He had been trying to resist, trying to retain some shred of humanity but he was a fool to believe that he could for much longer. A weak fool. The child had been turned, he was a member of a pack that hunted and killed people, and things with Hestia would never be the same again because of him. What was the point? The girl's screaming in his ears was absolutely deafening, and his hands flew to her throat and constricted. He barked a bitter laugh and spat in her fear-stricken, tear-stained face. Her eyes were wide and she was making funny noises as she tried to speak. To plead, probably - to beg. Henry explained to her in a very patient voice that he was in fact doing her a nice favour by killing her, and it was at this point that he felt a sharp pain where he didn't want to feel pain the most. He buckled and landed on his knees before falling sideways in the fetal position. As much as he wanted to wallow in his own self-pity, dear Fenny's consequential wrath if he failed this task intimidated him. The girl had her wand back now and was sending poorly aimed curses at him. Things were breaking and falling and his arm had split open somehow and his blood was suddenly everywhere and of course this only made him more angry and more determined to get fucking rid of this woman. The angle he was coming from only allowed him limited options and so he took the easiest - a bite. It was pretty disgusting and he didn't see what everyone loved about it, really. Whatever wolf-like instincts were inside of him, they were making sure his jaw was clamped right down on her thigh which made it difficult for him to grab her wand and prize it from her fingers. She was too busy waving her arm around to be able to cast spells which he was thankful for as he broke a few of her fingers in order to prize the wand from her. Stepping back and wiping his mouth with his dirty sleeve, he watched her with a malicious grin on his face. Her own wand was turned against her and she couldn't possibly reach his. She was backed into a corner, literally, and Henry laughed as she tried getting further and further away from him but all there was behind her was wall. He half-expected her to sink in to it. "You see?" he asked her, voice high and speaking fast, "I told you I was doing you a favour, but did you listen?" He stepped forward. "It could have been quick and easy, but nooooooo. Silencio." The pain in his arm was becoming more and more apparent now. Again he pointed his wand at the woman and watched her expression as her own wand emitted thick ropes that began to bind her tightly. Because his clothes were old and not of a high standard at all, they were easy to rip. He used a quick scourgify to actually be able to see the gash (it was large and deep and he glared at the woman in the corner pointedly) before taking a minute or two to tear off his other sleeve and use it as a temporary bandage. "What's your name?" he asked her as he sat down in front of her with crossed legs. His expression was reminiscent of somebody who cared, before he snorted at her. "Oh yes, you can't talk. We could have had a nice conversation. Perhaps about the new marriage bill or the rise and fall of the British Empire." He looked around, as if willing something to tell him what to do next, but nothing did. He heaved a sigh, leaned over to pat her on the shoulder, and stood back up. It was time to kill this innocent woman and Henry didn't actually care. She had been bitten, strangled and bones broken and yet she still looked fine from the waist up. He smiled and raised his wand. Silencing this woman was one of the best decisions he had ever made. He had tried to write Henry on her torso in slashes but had messed up on the E and instead just went pretty crazy. People's faces flew into his mind as he slashed at her manically and it was almost a release. His father, mother, the child he'd stolen ice-cream from in Lancaster because she was staring at him, the old man he had stolen clothes from, Fenrir, Hestia, Charles, the man he had let beat him up once, and the wolf that had bitten him. The tears were falling from his eyes and mixing with her blood on his face and he was laughing. Bertha & Matthew vs Fenrir & Nina Fenrir shoved his way into the house, the ever so pungent smell of human invading his nose. Along with something distinctly sugary and happy. Humans were such emotional creatures. It was part of their weakness really. The wolf only wanted to hunt and devour and destroy. It was power and rage and Fenrir loved it. He let his pack scatter and fight with a general sort of amusement and pleasure written all over his nearly canine features. He pressed into the room to join the fray. A supernaturally strong hand gripped the youngest, closest boy. Oh, how he loved to play. The mood in the room had changed so quickly. One minute, the entire family had been sitting around the kitchen table, laughing. Bertha was actually not fighting with her older sisters, and the older girls were behaving themselves in light of Matthew's birthday. She could still hardly believe her baby brother was twenty. He had finished opening presents (Bertha gave him tickets to a Quidditch game, promising she'd come along if he couldn't find someone else to join him) and the six of them had headed back to the dining room to cut the cake. And then the wards had tripped, and there was no time to flee. Bertha watched as her family scattered, running to grab her wand from the kitchen counter where she'd left it. It wasn't until she reached the doorway that she realized Matthew was still standing there, frozen with fear. "Matthew! Move it!" Sighing, she ran into the kitchen. She heard it as they broke in to the house, the screams as whoever it was caught up with her family. Bertha had her wand in hand, and in that moment, she heard a yelp from the dining room. "Let him go!" she shouted as she took in the sight from the doorway. The man was huge, and Matthew struggled in vain against his grip. She aimed her wand at him, but no spell came. What if she hit Matthew? Nina had come into the house last, a bit of an amused smile on her face as she looked around. She didn't like the decorating of this home quite as much as she had the last time they had fun, but that wouldn't matter. Even if they had less than pleasing decor, she knew that this was still going to be a great deal of fun. She heard the shout from the girl and a grin spread across Nina's face, as slow as a sunset. "Darling, she wants you to let Matthew go," Nina spoke slowly and smoothly, her eyes staying on the woman across the room as she stepped around the boy and Fenrir. She'd had every intention to leave Fenrir to his own devices, but this seemed almost too perfect to just pass by. She reached a hand out, taking hold of the boy's hair in a firm grip and pulling his head back almost violently. "Are you going to do as she says?" Fenrir let out a low growl, so close to laughter, he might have been human. Maybe. If there was a way to aurally squint. Oh Nina. She might have been one of his favourites. And Fenrir most definitely played favourites. His eyes darted between the newcomer and the boy in his hand. "Oh, I'm terrible at following order, love," he teased, enjoying the game. But he could never deny himself the pleasure of ripping through an exposed throat. It couldn't even be properly called an indulgence. It was instinct. In a flash, he tored into the thick muscle in the crook of the boy's shoulder. He was a carnivore. Nina could have the blood. He pulled away a mouthful of flesh and gristle, chewing, swallow and then looking satisfied back at the witch. He hoped she'd play his game. He wanted to hear her scream before he killed her too. Bertha gagged, trying to hold down the bile that rose in her throat as her mind tried to deny what her eyes had just seen. It couldn't be over that quickly. Matthew was the only one in her family that understood her. What the hell was she supposed to do without him? "Stupefy!" she cried, turning her aim to the woman who'd intruded. She hoped that, with her brother still in his arms, she'd have time to react before that monster attacked her. "Furnunculus!" Her wand was aimed at the man again. Son of a bitch deserved to be covered in boils, and worse. Nina was able to just dart out of the way from the spell, the magic just barely touching her clothes and leaving dark singe marks where it collided as she darted aside. Really? Another one of her favorite frocks destroyed because of those damn wands? One day, Nina thought to herself, she was going to have to invest in clothing specifically for these jaunts. But, that was something she would have to worry about at a different time. She didn't even waste time looking back at Fenrir to see if he had been hit by the spell that the woman had sent toward him. He was a big boy and she was certain that he would be able to take care of himself. Instead, she took the split second of time that the woman's attention was off of the vampire to spring toward her with what could only be described as supernatural grace. Nina had learned early on while feeding off of witches and wizards that the most important thing was to take care of their wand arm first to disable that strength first and this time was no different. As she reached the woman, she reached out for the wrist that was holding her wand with every intention to break it once she had the chance. Fenrir pulled Matthew in front of himself, effectively using him as a shield. He was still struggling against him, kicking and screaming pulling in a futile attempt to escape Fenrir's grip. Oh, how he loved it when they struggled. He drew his lips back in a bloody sneer and again, took another mouthful out of the boy's shoulder before tossing him away and turning his attention to the witch. Yes, the wand would have to go, and Fenrir made himself stay aware of what Nina was doing. As mismatched as they were in species, it was impossible for him to think of them all as anything but his pack. And so, he let her serve as a distraction before pouncing across the room, using all his strength and weight to clear the room and tackle her. The boy was likely still alive. But this one looked like she was more interested in fighting and he liked that in his meals. Bertha saw the vampire leap toward her only a split second before she was there, in front of her. She moved her wand hand, not because she realized that it was in danger, but to cast another spell. "Diffindo!" she cried, backing away as she slashed with her wand. Her eyes were drawn back to the wolf as he bit into her brother again. "Leave him the fuck a--!" She was cut off in her shout when she realized that he was pouncing at her. She turned to run, but she had barely gotten a step or two when he crashed into her legs. She fell to the hard floor, trying hard to keep her grip on her wand and catch herself at the same time. Her left arm crunched, and she screamed at the pain. "Impedimenta!" she shouted, twisting around in an attempt to hit one of her assailants without damaging her broken arm further. Nina swore loudly as the spell hit her shoulder, a long string of German erupting angrily from her throat. But Fenrir obviously had plans for the woman and she had no problem letting him teach her a lesson. After all, there was still the man on the other side of the room to play with and he was far too accessible for her to let him get away. Pushing past the pain in her shoulder, Nina's gaze jerked to Matthew, as the woman had called him, and she grinned. There was no hesitation as she sprung at him, her fingernails digging roughly into the wounds that Fenrir had already given him. She could smell his blood and it was almost intoxicating as she realized just how thirsty she was. Nina looked down into the fightened eyes of the man who now looked so much more like a boy beneath her. Bringing one of her hands up, they tightened in his hair and almost angrily pulled his head to the side to expose his neck to her. Nina grinned, looking across the room to where Fenrir and the women were, and then bit down hard on the boy's neck. She could hear him shouting and could feel him squirming to get away, but all she could think was how nice it was to have dinner and a show. Fenrir was initially shoved away, the magic propelling him backwards. It was only at the second that he latched onto her ankle, dragging her towards him. He snarled in frustration at being shoved backwards to begin with and subsequently took his revenge by sinking his teeth into her laugh. Another mouthful of meat, chewed on, swallowed. Fenrir pulled her closer, bloodlust blinding any remaining sense of caught as he shoved a knee into her abdomen to pin her. This was what he wanted. Blood and violence and screaming. Chaos all over the house. He was in his element. Bertha screamed in protest as she was dragged towards him, and kicked with her free foot, hoping she managed to connect with something. The feel of teeth tearing into her and flesh being ripped away made her inhale sharply, tears streaming down her cheeks as she cursed and struggled against him. Her breath caught in her throat as his knee struck her, and she realized that it was harder to breathe and it was harder to move. She reached up with her right arm to grab at his hair or do something to get him to move, and was startled to discover she was still holding her wand. "Conjunctivitis!" she cried, trying to block out her pain and the sounds of Matthew's struggle against the woman. At least he was still alive. Nina's eyes came to a close as she concentrated on the blood, her thirst, and the screams around her. She could hear the girl struggling against Fenrir, but she kept getting distracted by the boy. He kept struggling to get away - which, really wasn't such a wise idea, she thought, as it only caused her to dig her teeth deeper into his neck. It was distracting, though, and finally she was sick of it. Breathing out a sigh, Nina pulled her teeth out and away from him. She spared him just the shortest of looks, giving him a flash of a pitious look in order to inspire some hope in him. But then, quick as a flash, she grinned and brought her hands to his neck and broke it with a sickening crunch. "Oh, much better," she murmured to herself as the boy fell slacken against her. She didn't even waste anymore time before going back to what she had been doing. Fenrir howled in pain and frustration as pain exploded in his eyes, blurring his vision. However, it did nothing but further enrage him and he struck out blindly, a fitful child throwing a tantrum for all intents and purposes. He pressed his knee further into her stomach, shoving his weight down onto her diaphragm as his fists rained down, angry, unforgiving. In that moment, he was the animal, and in the next second, he bent down and sank his teeth into the side of her neck. Coppery, salty blood covered his face, hot and sticky as it clung to his lips and beard and cheeks, invaded his mouth and bathed his tongue. This was right. This was what he'd come to do, what he'd been denied twice before. Bertha's pulse raced when she heard the hideous crunch. "Matthew!" she cried, and the air rushed from her lungs as the monster unleashed his anger on her. The wand fell from her hand and she raised both arms in front of her face, forgetting momentarily that her left arm was already broken. The unnatural strength drove into her, and she screamed as her arms snapped under the pressure. She gasped, her fingernails scrambling, clawing at his face, his neck, his chest, whatever she could reach when she felt his teeth pierce her neck. "Get the fuck off me!" she screamed, the words coming in gasps as her feet flailed beneath him, trying to get some kind of stability to push him just a tiny bit away from her. Nina looked in question up at the woman's screams, surveying the scene in front of her. She wondered briefly how many more screams she was going to manage before she was as dead as her brother was. Bending down, Nina licked the wound she made on the boy's neck once more before tossing his body aside with a thump. Instead of getting up, however, she sat comfortably and watched Fenrir and the woman. She didn't want to get in the way and wanted him to be able to do what he needed to, but she was available in case anything seemed to go awry. It looked like he had things out of control, however. Fenrir couldn't feel. He was taken over by the wolf, nothing but hunger and rage, his only purpose to destroy and make everything disintegrate into chaos. As she lashed at his face, her nails tore at the skin and soon, his blood was mingling with hers. It stung and hurt and he didn't care. He shoved her shattered arms away from him, thinking them little more than a distraction from what he wanted. He shoved her arms to the sides, pulling his face away long enough to push a leg over her and pin her at her hips with his weight. He bent down again, lips curled back, and sank his teeth into the flesh of her throat, feeling it bend and give and break under the force of his jaws. He severed the artery, letting the blood envelope his tongue as he clamped down on her windpipe, ready for it to falter and break, ready for her to stop her struggling and screaming and to simply be still. Bertha wasn't ready to die, not now, not like this. She could feel her blood seeping out of her, could feel his blood fall on her. She squirmed, no longer caring what condition her arms were in, and she sobbed, continuing to struggle even as it slowly sank in that there was nothing she could do to stop this. She couldn't even manage to kick to release her energy and frustration with his weight bearing down on her hips. She struggled for breath, to keep moving, to hold out for the rescue she knew wouldn't come. The energy drained from her as her blood drained from her, and after a few short, gasping breaths, Bertha was still, lying in a pool of her own blood. Nina watched as the girl stopped struggling and she tilted her head to the side just slightly as she watched Fenrir. It was about time. That girl had far too much fight in her, the vampire thought to herself as she got to her feet. She listened around the house to figure out where the others were, but she was most concerned about Fenrir. While she knew that the girl couldn't have hurt him too badly, she had to admit that there was just a twinge of concern run through her. She wouldn't interrupt him, though, and instead walked over to the nearest window and peered out into the night sky as she waited. Fenrir waited until he was sure, until she had been still for over thirty seconds before detaching his teeth from her throat and pushing himself up. He was covered in blood, hardly any of it his own. But save for his eyes, he felt good. He felt strong. He used the back of his wrist wipe at his eyes, as if it would help the pain. And for a moment, he stared down solemnly at the broken, beaten body of Bertha Jorkins, a slow, sly smile pulling at his lips. "You're so pretty when you cry," he growled, letting his eyes linger on her face for another moment before turning away. There were no more sounds of struggle in the house. All dead. His gaze fell on the dinner table and he snickered - as much as a man like him could, anyway. "I don't suppose, you eat cake, do you darling?" he asked, cutting a slice for himself. He was not often indulgent in sweets, but tonight, he could make an exception. |