Rodolphus Lestrange (bd_rodolphus) wrote in beyond_dark, @ 2008-03-28 05:29:00 |
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Entry tags: | * march 2006, - complete, bellatrix lestrange, rodolphus lestrange |
RP: When Plans go Awry
Date: 27 March 2006
Characters: Rodolphus Lestrange, Bellatrix Lestrange
Location: Upper Slaughter, Lestrange Manor
Private/Public: Private
Rating: R
Warnings: -
Summary: The Lestranges get a taste of their own medicine as they suffer the consequences of the pox.
A log cracked loudly as it broke in the fireplace, rousing Rodolphus from his slumber. He was sleeping terribly, suddenly feeling every one of his 55 years. Low fever, aches that didn't go away, that infernal headache and now the itching. He knew what this was, yet even as he mustered up the fury that he was now suffering these symptoms, he found he was physically incapable. He didn't have time to be ill, but he refused to lie abed when he had so much to do. The only thing he conceded to the illness was thick robes as he sat closer to the fireplace. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, but it was hard to keep awake.
It was logical to expect a few cases of collateral damage during biological warfare. There had always been a remote possibility that the vaccine would fail, but Mortimer had intimated it would be remote. Yet here he was, suffering effects of the modified Dragon Pox along with others in Upper Slaughter. This wasn't just a few cases, this seemed to be a complete failure of the vaccine.
An elf appeared at his elbow with tea as he heard another sudden shattering of glass. Bellatrix wasn't at all pleased and had been stalking the Manor ever since she learned why they were ill. He downed another headache potion, needing to keep his head clear, even if he could feel the fever rising on his brow with the hot tea. Hearing the door slam open, he sipped quietly on his tea.
He turned his head to look as Bellatrix stormed into the room. She looked paler than usual, but until now he'd been able to attribute that to a number of things. He merely raised an eyebrow at her when she came in, not needing to ask if she was feeling better. Clearly, she wasn't, as her wand twitched impatiently in her hand.
"I trust you'll hold off on killing Mortimer until he's managed to find a cure for this." As much as Mortimer needed to suffer, he still had his uses, and curing the disease he so lovingly modified meant he was still of great use to them. He just had to make sure his wife didn't go and exact her revenge too soon.