Rabastan Lestrange is a brilliant actor (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} rabastrange) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} anon_rpg,@ 2012-06-05 17:16:00 |
 |
|||
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
What: Muggle hunting during a baptism
Where: Small village church, Sheffield
When: Tuesday evening, 5 June, after this
Status: In-progress
Rating: R+ for violence, gore, and infant-killing. Do not, I REPEAT, DO NOT read this thread if such things make you cringe.
Ever since the talk in journals about a Muggle hunt, Rabastan had been itching to get his hands on the nearest Muggle to take out some pent-up energy. He wouldn't consider himself an impatient person, per se, but so much waiting around, doing nothing but infiltrating the Ministry, could get boring really fast. The work was interesting, yet his restless side was becoming louder as the days drew longer with no plan in sight for a strong point to be made to the wizarding world at large. This would be it. The word was given and he finished up his day in a particularly good mood.
Now he lay beside the church in wait under the cover of a quickly fading sun, having found the perfect opportunity to put his hands to work. The baptism that was taking place tonight boasted a decent turnout for a semi-well known family in town. Rabastan felt the smile before he realised how the thought of wrapping his hands around each Muggle's throat would feel. The rush of taking a filthy life always put him in shockingly good moods after the fact, since he knew that he was doing his Lord's noble work for The Cause. A small part of him wished he could do this alone, to truly revel in his work, but he knew that now was not the time for selfishness. Not when he needed to remain somewhat discreet given his new position. Muggle means of extermination would be used for this particular hunt. It wouldn't do for the murders to be traced to magical sources just yet.
His fingers idly stroked the wand fastened to the outside of his thigh, its smooth texture having a calming effect over the inevitable rush that would soon overtake him. As soon as the village clock strikes seven, the massacre would begin.