tabitha pryce is a cougar. (savaged) wrote in blurred_lines, @ 2008-11-15 19:57:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! [1979-11] november, ! npc, aaron pryce, alecto carrow, dorian brooks, tabitha pryce, walden macnair |
Who: Aaron Pryce, Tabitha Pryce, Alecto Carrow, Walden Macnair, Dorian Brooks, & the Bell family.
What: Revenge for the arrested families is long overdue.
When: 15 November 1979, after dark.
Where: The Bell Ranch in Kildare, Ireland.
Status: Complete.
Rating: R for a lot of violence.
DARK ARMY AND DEATH EATERS ARRIVE (Tabitha, Aaron, Dorian, Alecto, Walden) Walden knew that he'd made a potentially poor choice in agreeing to be a part of this plan but only a small part of his subconscious seemed to be in protest. He'd spent the last few weeks coddling his mother and going to work like the good Ministry employee that he was. His evenings were spent alone, wallowing in his losses. It was pathetic. He was bored and he still had a touch of anger ebbing at the back of his mind and so he'd accepted Tabitha's invite with very little hesitation. He stepped into the small rear garden and with a crack he was suddenly standing within the camp. He took a moment to revel in the chilly evening air and the comforting silence of his surroundings before he turned on his heel and went to find Tabitha or someone who might lead him to her. There was no mistaking the familiar sound of a wizard apparating into the camp site, and Tabitha emerged from her tent to investigate; spotting Walden, she smirked and poked her head back into the tent to speak to her husband. "Aaron. Time to get ready to go. Walden's shown up." Slipping back outside, she jogged over excitedly to Walden, grinning like a mad woman. It would be an understatement to say she wasn't looking forward to this; she didn't care that Bellatrix wanted them all to keep low. She wasn't Fenrir or Walden -- although she didn't know if she would have listened to Walden if he had told her no. He earned some of her respect by agreeing to help them, but she wasn't ready to completely trust him quite yet. "Haven't seen Alecto show up yet," she said, forgoing any greetings. "But she should be here soon." Dorian didn't normally spend much time amongst the Dark Army camp; he much preferred to remain somewhat isolated- especially as the majority of the camp (on this side, at least) seemed to be made up of werewolves. This didn't mean that he was often very far, and when he'd been asked to tag along for this outing, he certainly wasn't about to say no. It was dark enough, though he remained close to the shadows-- werewolves and wizards still made him a little uneasy. He stepped out as the first wizard arrived and the female werewolf moved out to greet him; perhaps it wouldn't be much longer. "How many are we waiting on?" he asked in greeting. "We're just waiting on Alecto and Aaron now," Tabitha replied, placing her hands on her hips. It could never be said that she was a patient woman; she was happiest when she got things her way, and right away, all the time. "I'm here, don't break something," Alecto said, coming up from her usual apparition point on the fringe of the camp (because she'd learned early on that appearing suddenly amidst grumpy werewolves was not always a good idea). She wasn't robed up for this, dressed more like she was heading out for another barfight with Fenrir, but with her wand tucked into her jacket pocket. And just like a barfight night, her blood was rising (amost enough to drown out that twinge of missing Greyback - but that was the point of this, after all). The grin she gave those already assembled was toothy and a touch feral. Aaron was not in the best of moods; had not been in the best of moods since earlier in the week, back when he'd still had two hands and some semblance of good humour. Any mercy he'd had was gone, any still-playful tendencies buried beneath anger and hate and the desire to hurt, to maul, to taste blood even when he wasn't in his wolf form. Whoever had taken his hand had wrought more than they knew; they'd brought the beast out, all the time. He slipped out of the shadows and joined the group, giving Tabitha a savage smile that was little more than bared teeth and a silent growl. "We're good to go." Walden gave Alecto a small nod at her arrival and then once Aaron came about he glanced around at the rest of the troupe. It certainly was a motley crew but they would get the job done. He took his wand from his pocket and then with a small warning the group came together and Walden Apparated them all to a hidden spot just yards away from the farmhouse. "See you all in a bit. Don't get killed and try to have some fun, hmm?" THE GUEST HOUSE (Dorian, NPC!Riona, NPC!Dennis) Dorian took a moment to take in their surroundings as they arrived, considering his own tracks as everybody else seemed to scatter off in different directions. The second house; he had a feeling that he would have a good evening there. He barely spared a glance to others as he quickly crossed the yard; there was no need to stay in the shadows just yet. He silently approached the house, tilting his head as he listened for any movement around the outside. Nothing, though he thought he could hear the faint footsteps coming from inside. His lips curved into a faint smile as he stepped to the front door, carefully turning the handle. It was locked, which he supposed wasn't all too surprising, so he stepped back, looking up for any open windows. Ah. There. Second from the left- cracked open just enough to let a little air in. Dorian unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. God, it had been years since he'd done any real climbing. It looked easy enough, and he reached up, pulling himself up onto the first branch and carefully making his way up and over to the window. He was almost out of breath (if you could say a vampire could be out of breath, really, being undead and all) as he straddled the branch, reaching for the window and carefully sliding it up. It squeaked as he went up and he winced, listening to be sure that nobody was coming just yet. Climbing in, Dorian landed on his feet and brushed off his trousers. He fell quiet, listening for the movement. There was a voice from the other room, and he quietly ambled into the hallway, slowing to a stop as he heard the voice of a woman, singing softly. The rest of the house seemed quiet; Dorian didn't hear any other movement, but he quickly made his way downstairs and up another staircase as he checked to be sure that the rest of the house was empty. It was, except for the woman. He could hear her speaking to somebody, and he stepped back, looking through the doorway. Her back was to him, and he could hear the soft lullaby she sang as she cradled a baby in her arms. Dorian closed his eyes and it was Lydia, holding his infant son. He couldn't- it was a mother, somebody's wife, somebody's son. He clenched his fists, drawing himself up to his full height as he took a breath- one he didn't need, but certainly one that calmed his nerves, drew him back to himself as he silently stepped into the room behind her. She didn't seem to notice as he approached her, and she leaned over to place the baby into his crib. Carefully, gently, he reached for her, jumping back as she shrieked at the coldness of his hands. The baby burst into tears, wailing and Dorian was abruptly pulled back to the present. He ducked just in time for the woman to swing at him before reaching for something- anything to throw at him. Dorian stepped aside, swatting away at objects as they came flying at his head, and he reached for her. She tried to run, but he was blocking the doorway and he easily pulled her to himself. "Shhh," he whispered, holding her close, pinning her arms to his side. She tried to scream but his hand came up to cover her mouth. "The more you struggle, the more it will hurt. And your son- surely you don't want him to see you upset?" She tried to fight, managing to snake an arm out. Dorian got an elbow to his stomach and he groaned, releasing her for a moment and she grabbed something- Dorian couldn't tell what it was, exactly, but it hit him upside the head and he fell over. Blinking back the stars, he stood, stumbling as he ran at her again, baring his fangs. There was a crash of overturned furniture as he reached her again, hands moving to her wrists to pin her arms to the floor, using his body weight (not that there was much, but still) to keep her down. Her scream was loud, echoing in his ear as his teeth sank into her flesh; Dorian closed his eyes as he tasted her blood. It had been some time since he'd fed, so tonight was a treat for him. The screams turned into words-- Dorian thought he heard a prayer, but he didn't care, concentrating on the task at hand. It didn't take long for her body to still beneath his and he pulled back, glancing to the crib. Licking his lips, he stood, a hand coming up to swipe at his mouth with the back of his hand. It was clean enough, though some blood still trailed from the bite marks on her neck. The child was still crying, and Dorian leaned over to pick the baby up. He was heavy, and Dorian held him carefully to himself, quietly shushing him. A part of him wondered if this was how his own son had felt. The child quieted, though Dorian couldn't tell if he had quieted out of fear or or something else. Dorian hesitated, holding the baby to himself. Maybe- maybe he could turn- no. The child was too young, and it would surely kill him. There was no way to get out of it-- he couldn't leave him there. "Relax, mate. Not long now," he whispered, a hand moving to the top of the child's head before he gently pulled his head to the side and brought his mouth down to his neck. It was quick work and the child soon fell limp in his arms. Dorian carefully lay him back in the crib, watching the lifeless body for another moment. He felt a stab of something- it was almost guilt, but...no. This was nothing; Dorian had needed to feed. He turned, striding out of the room and downstairs-- he needed to see if anybody else needed help. THE BARN (Alecto, NPC!Allen, NPC!Seamus (Ghost)) The Bell ranch was quite charming, possibly even idyllic, and as she walked up the rutted drive towards the main buildings, Alecto wanted to see the entire place in flames. She didn't really know why Tabby had picked this mob to bear the brunt of their anger, and she didn't really care, as long as there was blood on her hands, and soon. A noise - the whicker of a horse, a fragment of soothing voice - came from the barn, and Alecto broke off from the others to head towards the open door. It was slightly warmer inside, and cozy with the smells of hay and horses and oiled metal. The occupants came into view as Alecto stepped into the doorway - two men, one older; a woman with her hand on the shoulder of the child leaning against her hip. It was the kid who saw her first, the younger man who turned, the older who said, "Who are you?" in a strident voice. Alecto grinned, and said, "Trouble," and lifted her wand. And then there was something in her face, pearlescent, screaming. It made her scream, or at least gasp, taking a step back. Her foot skidded in the dirt, dropping her to one knee, sending her blasting curse veering off crazily to take out a corner of the roof. From down here, she could see it was just a ghost - she hated ghosts. Just a filmy, glistening child with wild hair who balled up ephemeral fists and opened his silvered, twisted mouth to shout, "You stay away from them!" Alecto ducked beneath him and stalked into the barn, but where the charming family group had been there was now only shouting and the sound of a door banging shut. A shadow moved at the far end of the barn, a voice saying something that sounded like, "Damn crazy," and the younger man popped up from behind the end stall, lifting something long to his shoulder and pointing it at her. Her duelling instincts had her flat in the pile of straw behind the wall before Alecto even thought about it; the noise was incredible, and above her a section of the wall as large as her head just disappeared. Fucking muggles and their fucking guns. The horses were heaving, clamouring in their stalls, the divide against Alecto's back shuddering as the big body inside lumbered against it. Over them, she could just hear the man, shouting something about sending her back to the devil. Yeah, whatever. Alecto got up into a crouch, ducking just wand-arm and head around the edge of the stall to fling an incendio in his direction. She threw herself back again as the corner of her covering stall got blown away. Her shoulder jarred against the wall, the horse inside screaming and rearing. She rolled away from it, and sneezed. Fucking hay dust. But after that, she smelt the sweet, sharp, violent promise of flames, and smiled. The stall door next to her burst open, and the huge, dark shape of a horse went thudding out into the night through the open barn door. Above the noise, there was a high scream, like wailing, and looking up, Alecto could see the shape of the child-ghost, flying across the barn towards the gathering glow of firelight. "Allen, Allen, Allen!" he was shouting. "Allen!" Alecto shouted herself. "Hey Allen! You're going to die!" There was a big lump of some sort of wheeled farm machinery across the other side of the barn; Alecto made a run for it, but nothing exploded before she was huddling behind it. From here, she could see the stall doors, firing opening charms at them in random order. The horses burst out, wild with noise and startlement and fear of the fire now licking its way happily up the far wall of the barn. In the chaos of their milling around and flight into the night, Alecto worked her way down the barn, ducking from equipment to haybales to the cover of a tack-hung pillar. When Allen jumped out from behind the final stall, aiming up the barn with his shotgun, Alecto stepped out of the shadows and took him just above the left kidney with a crucio. He fell to his knees with a grunt, one hand coming off the shotgun, which sagged to the floor beside him. Alecto stepped forward, and then the fucking ghost was in her face again, making the biggest fucking racket. She flailed an arm at it, uselessly, but kept going forwards, pushing through it to slam her booted foot down on the shotgun and the hand Allen still had on it just as he started to lift it again. "Fuck off!" she shouted at the ghost, still veering in front of her. She had to lean aside to crucio the man again, sending him sprawling on the dirt floor, his arm stretched out from the hand still under her boot. Alecto bore her weight down, heard bones crunch just before she heard him scream. It was warm at this end of the barn, crisped by spreading fire. The ghost, gibbering and fluttering, was gilded. Allen looked up at her, and ground out, "Your kind." "Your kind," Alecto spat back, and kicked him in the head. On her way out, the ghost loomed up in front of her, its silvered face a mess and mouth wide with its childish screaming, but Alecto walked through it, out of the building and into the chill night, leaving Allen's cooling body on the floor of the burning barn. OUTSIDE THE BARN (Tabitha, Aaron, NPC!Meagan, NPC!Searlas) - Tabitha vs Meagan When Tabitha noticed the people come running out of the barn, she halted in her tracks to turn her attention on them instead, and she spared a quick glance at Aaron to make sure he was staying with her. After the attack made on him, she couldn't help worry about her husband, despite just how strong and vicious she knew he was. She loved him; it was her job to worry. The woman closest to Tabitha looked to be equipped with a shovel, but that didn't make the werewolf hesitate -- she lunged at the woman, snarling, releasing all her rage and anger; for Fenrir and for her husband. Meagan swung the shovel when Tabitha lunged at her, the edge of it just slicing the werewolf's arm. Tabitha jerked back from the sudden sharp pain, blood trickling down her arm from the small gash. Oh, but no one spilled her blood and did not pay a price. Tabitha could tell this woman had a fighting spirit, which she admired; that always made things interesting. The werewolf threw herself at Meagan again, this time grabbing onto the shovel so she was unable to swing it at her again. They grappled, each woman trying to gain the upper hand with their strength -- instead of pulling, Tabitha suddenly switched tactics, shoving back at Meagan hard; she pinned Meagan against the wooden wall of the barn, pushing the handle of the shovel against her prey's throat. Meagan choked, dazed at the sudden cut off of air, but still she fought, still she struggled for her life. She kicked out at Tabitha with her legs, catching the werewolf in the shin, then caught her foot on the back of Tabitha's knee; they both crumpled to the ground, this time leaving the werewolf pinned beneath her. It was strange, the passion and strength a woman gained when the life of her child was being threatened. The lengths they would go to suddenly became almost limitless. But there were those who would always go farther to kill, those who had no line to cross any longer, left so far behind it seemed as if it had never existed at all. Tabitha had no shame, no remorse in her actions; she was a beast of primal nature who relied only on her instincts. Meagan pushed she shovel's handle down, attempting to push it against the werewolf's throat just as she had done to her moments before, but Tabitha lashed out with her claws. Red streaks appeared across Meagan's face and she screamed, tasting the blood as it trickled down past her open lips. The werewolf pushed herself up, grabbing Meagan's throat, digging her claws into the soft flesh there. The shovel was pushed aside, forgotten as Tabitha rolled the pair of them over, straddling the helpless human. Dragging her claws over Meagan's neck and chest, blood swelling up from the fresh wounds as she tore open her flesh, shredding it so there was nothing but a mess of meat and blood in the wake of her claws. There was still fight left in Meagan, tears streaking down her cheeks as she sobbed and screamed from the pain -- she clenched her fish and threw a punch at Tabitha's face, hitting her cheek, and only for a moment was the werewolf stunned by the sudden blow. There would be a fierce bruise there later, but she could ignore the throbbing pain in her jaw. Grabbing Meagan's wrist, Tabitha pinned down her arm, swiftly bending down to sink her teeth into her neck. Blood filled her mouth as soon as she broke through the skin, dripping down the sides of Meagan's throat and staining the ground beneath them both red. She pulled away, bringing a large chunk of the woman's throat with her, mouth filled with flesh and blood and muscle; there would be no hope for her now. Nothing could save her at the rate she was bleeding, windpipes exposed to the night air. Meagan's eyes were already blank and unseeing as her body fought even still to keep her alive, but it was a losing battle. Intoxicated by the taste and strong smell of blood now in the air, Tabitha could not stop herself. Her hands dug into Meagan's open throat, tearing apart the skin, ripping away muscle with her teeth and claws. She reached the human's chest and worked her hand deep into the body, now already dead, feeling around the slick organs as the werewolf literally began to pull her apart. The front of Meagan was completely open now, exposed and fragile. The fury and bloodlust had taken her over, ripping out Meagan's internal organs with her blood-slick bare hands, squeezing them until they burst messily. When she reached Meagan's still heart, she raised it hungrily to her mouth, and she consumed the muscle. Panting, Tabitha finally stood up to gaze down at her successful kill; it looked as if something had exploded within Meagan's body, everything within her busting out of her chest and flung carelessly about her corpse. Her eyes were wide and mouth still open, as if she had died in one continuous scream as she was torn apart. It was lucky for her that she wasn't alive while Tabitha was dissecting her. The werewolf licked her lips, although her face and clothing were still covered in blood, and she quickly moved away from her kill to rejoin with the others, and offer her help if so needed. - Aaron vs Searlas Aaron had joined Tabby in pursuing the ones who'd come from the barn; the smaller one broke away as the older couple distracted the werewolves, but Aaron certainly didn't mind fighting the older man. He'd got his blood-thirst up, and an older opponent would be more challenging, more fun. Yes, they were here to do a job tonight, but that didn't mean Aaron couldn't enjoy it and it sure as hell didn't mean he was going to rein in the beast even the slightest bit. Nobody said all the bodies had to be immediately identifiable. Letting out a howl that was surprisingly close to the one he loosed on the full, Aaron lunged at Searlas, feinting to the right before ducking under the swing of the man's sickle and moving left, head down and shoulder forward like a charging rugby player. Searlas moved faster than Aaron had anticipated, taking the charge on the side instead of full-on, and swung the sickle again. The angle was too close for a completely effective hit, but the blade bit into Aaron's side, tearing a gash the length of a man's hand in his side as Searlas ripped it back out. The scent of blood, even his own, sent Aaron spiralling up into a blood-frenzy; what little reason there was gave way to sheer, animal fury. This was no longer about doing the job, this was about ending the pathetic, pitiful life of the human who dared to raise a hand against a werewolf. This was about vengeance, retribution for so many things; for the wrongs done to werewolves by wizards, for Fenrir's incarceration, for the hundreds of thousands of little slights Aaron had endured over the course of his life, and Searlas wasn't merely Searlas anymore, he was every man who'd been stronger than Aaron during bar brawls, he was every wizard who dared call werewolves animals and tell them to lock away a part of themselves; he was the self-righteous bastards who caged Fenrir, he was the screeching, heavy-handed woman who had the fucking gall to call herself a mother, and the fucking bastard who'd cut off Aaron's hand. Aaron roared, a full-throated, animal sound of raw fury, lunging at Searlas again. Normally, he'd have a difficult time working around only being able to use one hand to fight; now, he employed every weapon in his arsenal: hand and fingers that were curved more like claws, elbows, knees, and most importantly, teeth. He ducked another swipe from the sickle and sank his teeth into Searlas's arm, shaking his head sharply like a dog shaking a terrier, tearing out a bloody mouthful of flesh and spitting it aside, striking again. The sickle swung and hit, digging bloody gouges into Aaron's shoulders and back as he pressed his advantage, backing Searlas further and further. The pain did nothing to deter him; he let it, and the smell and taste of blood, thick in his throat, drive him further into frenzy, rewarding each hit Searlas made with another strike, a bite of flesh torn from arm or shoulder, a knee brought up in barroom brawl-style to collide with the man's solar plexus, furrowed claw-marks dug down the right side of his face. The sickle bit into Aaron's thigh and stuck, and he wrenched away from Searlas with a savage grin, bloodied from his mouthfuls of the man's flesh. Pulling the implement out, he threw it aside and lunged again, one last time, knocking the man to the ground. He knelt on Searlas's legs, ignoring the flailing hands that tried to push him away, that scrabbled desperately at his face, looking for eyes to gouge, and bent over him to sink his teeth into the flesh over his hip, tossing his head to tear strips away, ignoring the screams. He added his hand to the process, fingers and arm and face smearing with blood as he tore open the man's stomach, working his hands between coils of innards to rip out the liver and sink his teeth into it, ripping loose a bite and swallowing it. It took Tabby, glimpsed out of the corner of his eye, for Aaron to remember that they came here with a purpose beyond killing and feasting on these two. At some point Searlas had stopped screaming, had stopped moving, and his heart had stopped pumping the blood that was drying and matting in Aaron's hair, on his face and hands and clothing, smearing him like the sick, macabre war-paint of a cannibal tribe. He got to his feet, tossing aside a strip of flesh that had clung to his hand, and followed Tabitha to rejoin the others. OUTSIDE THE STORM CELLAR (Walden, NPC!Mallory, NPC!Mary) Walden had pressed his mask against his face before they'd left the camp and it only took him a single moment to adjust his eyesight when they arrived at the farmhouse. Without fail the family seemed to flood from the house in order to protect their homestead and those who were unable to defend themselves. As he scanned the faces and made notes and counted bodies, a figure came at him from an angle in an attempt to blindside him. This had been the woman he'd seen come from the house with a small child but she had clearly passed her off and was now attempting to join in the fight. He wasn't completely sure what she was using for a weapon but he did know that it was very likely something she'd just grabbed from the kitchen. After the collision and the momentary assault with the unidentified cooking utensil he righted himself and wasted little time with her. Walden's fist connected with her jaw and then a flash of green light flew from his wand and crashed against her chest as she stumbled from the first blow. She crumpled to the ground without another sound and he stepped over her without another thought. It only took a few long strides for him to be standing near the storm cellar and he grinned under his mask as he saw Mallory just stepping away from the rusty doors. There was a mix of emotions upon the boy's face and Walden could see that he was worrying about what was just beyond the old doors. The child couldn't fully grasp what was happening or why and there was fear in his eyes as he stared at the masked figure but there was also a small glimmer of determination. The boy had his arm tucked behind his back and with lightening fast speed he brought it forward and launched a decent sized rock at the Death Eater. Walden caught the stone in the shoulder and shot a spell from his wand. The blaze of light smashed against the corner of the building and crumbled a bit of the stone. Walden took off running after the boy, something he did not do often, and after a few gruelling moments he was just behind him. "Crucio!" he yelled, but Mallory ducked behind another building and Walden swore. His idea of sport was sitting on the back of a horse and using his wand while making jabs at Rodolphus, not running about after some unimportant child. At least the adults he faced didn't cut and run. The older wizard rounded the corner and he caught sight of the fleeing boy. He repeated the curse and this time he did not miss. The eight year old stopped in his tracks, his boyish screams cutting through the night air with a heart-wrenching sound that must've ripped his poor mother's heart to pieces. If she were still alive, of course. Walden let the boy writhe in pain for another moment as he caught his breath and then he finally extended his wand, whispered a killing curse, and no more sound came from Mallory Bell's lips. For a moment he considered going back towards the cellar to see what the child had been hiding but he then thought better of it. If there happened to be someone who did manage to survive it would be better if they didn't mention that there were more than just werewolves involved. He would stay back and if his help was needed he would give it. DARK ARMY AND DEATH EATERS RETREAT (Tabitha, Aaron, Dorian, Alecto, Walden) Alecto had been contentedly watching the barn burn - it had really got going now, merry and warming - from slightly closer than a strictly safe distance. At the sound of a step, she turned, wand at the ready, but relaxed again a moment later. "Just you. Are we done here?" "Just me," Dorian replied, frowning as he felt the heat of the flames and saw the light of the fire. He glanced over, wondering if that was really necessary, and he folded his arms across his chest as he slowed to a stop. Another look around them, and he wondered if the others were nearly finished. He was ready to go home. Tabitha caught up with the pair as she over heard their exchange of words. "All Aaron and I have to do now is take care of the bodies you guys killed," she said. "Got to make sure this place just looks like it was a werewolf attack." Even as she spoke, rain began to fall from the dark, starless sky. The fire was still burning strong in the barn; at least they wouldn't have to deal with the body in there, but the rain would extinguish the blaze in time. "I'll take care of yours, Dorian," she said, and made her way quickly over to the house that the vampire had made his kills in. The door was locked when she got there, so she broke it in before searching the house, finding the bodies of Riona and Dennis upstairs. She made quick work of them, using teeth and claws to tear up their bodies until they looked as if they had been killed by a wild animal. When she was satisfied that no evidence was left behind on the bodies that would indicate another means of death, she hurried back out of the house to rejoin the others. "I'll take care of yours," Aaron added to Walden, finding the bodies by the storm cellar. Both killed by that fucking killing curse; weak work, if it had come from anyone but Walden. Wizards and their fucking delicate sensibilities, they couldn't take out an enemy properly, no blood or heady rush of frenzy, just a piece of wood and stupid words. He restrained himself enough to simply tear at the bodies until the cause of death would unequivocally be mauling, rather than at the hands of a wizard; despite the strong urge to rip mouthfuls of muscle and flesh from them, he made short work of this part of the job, before rejoining the vampire, his wife and the two magic-users. Once she, Aaron and Dorian had been returned to the camp, Tabitha spared a moment to give her thanks to the two Death Eaters for their help. "Fenrir will be pleased to know we've silenced Grady Bell's family as he'd wanted us to." She didn't normally like wizards, but these two (and Marius) were some of the exceptions that she was growing a fondness for -- especially when they were helping her go behind Bellatrix' back to extract revenge after she had ordered them all to keep their heads down. That just wasn't something Tabitha could do; her loyalty was to Fenrir first, and he wanted them to take out revenge for his capture. "Can you heal my husband before you go?" she asked Walden. Walden removed his mask and tucked it away happily, breathing in the damp air. There had been rain here as well, though it had passed awhile before they'd arrived. Walden had been ready to get home but Tabitha's request was a simple one and so he gave her a small nod. He wasn't highly skilled in healing but he'd learned enough and he was confident that he could fix Aaron up. He'd healed similar wounds on his own person before so he could easily do this. "We should get you to a bed," he said to Aaron. " Can you walk there?" "They're not bad," Aaron assured Tabitha, before looking to Walden and nodding. "I can walk. Thanks." There weren't many wizards that Aaron would speak to civilly, but Macnair and Carrow were two of them. They weren't soft like the others, not entirely. Walden nodded in return and then looked between Aaron and Tabitha. He'd never really had an opinion of werewolves, though he occasionally found them to have a bit of a flair for drama. He'd dealt with wolves in the past because of his job but none of them seemed to be as intelligent as the pair he'd fought with tonight. No, these two he liked, or at least he didn't hate them. "Lead the way." Tabitha took Aaron's hand and nodded for Walden to follow, leading them both to the tent she shared with her husband. They didn't have much of a bed in a camp in the woods, but they were comfortable enough for them. "Right in here," she said, pulling back the flap so they could enter. She knelt down on the ground beside where Aaron would lay down, making space so that Walden would have room to use magic to help him. Aaron laid down, reaching up with his remaining hand to tuck a bit of blood-soaked hair behind Tabitha's ear. "You're so beautiful," he murmured. Perhaps it was the bloodloss, perhaps it was the blood, but she'd never looked lovelier. Walden averted his eyes for a moment, focusing on the canvas fabric not far from his face. He heard Aaron's words and pretended not to hear,and after a moment he edged his way in and lit his wand so he could get a better idea of what he was working with. The wounds were deeper than he would have liked and he wondered if he was giving himself too much credit. No, he could do this. He'd learned enough from Antonin to know what to do. He would just have to concentrate. Tabby's presence didn't help matters but Walden had no desire to ask her to leave. He was a brave man, yes, but he was not about to have that conversation. He took a deep breath and then began muttering spells and waving his wand carefully. He didn't dare use non-verbal magic and so his low voice filled the small tent as he worked. He could see the gashes pulling together and a wave of relief passed over him. A few more minutes and another series of spells and then all that was left were closed cuts. He was still going to be in a bit of pain and he would have to take it easy, but he would be fine. Walden just wished that he could use the same method to bring Aaron's hand back. "All closed up. Keep an eye on the injured areas and lay low for a week or so. If you have any complications you can contact me. If it's beyond my skill we have a very skilled healer in our ranks." Tabitha smiled fondly down at Aaron, reaching down to slide her hand through his hair. She kept her hand there while Walden healed the injuries Aaron obtained during the fight, and once he was finished, she looked at the wizard. "Thank you. I'll do that." When Walden left, she pulled the tent flap closed again and turned her attention back to Aaron, curling up close at his side and stroking her hand over his cheek. Tabitha knew Aaron was strong, they were equally matched, but after the attack made on him which robbed him of his hand, she swore to rip apart any who dared touch her mate ever again. She would see to it personally that they would suffer until all they could do was beg for their deaths. |