#culturewars (culturewars) wrote in cultureic, @ 2016-12-30 17:16:00 |
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Level 8: The Atrium Having just said goodbye to Ellis in the Atrium, Clara was headed back towards the Minister's Office, fully intending to get back to work. Seemed as though things would pan out in other ways, though, as people around her engaged in fights with one another, and it took Clara several seconds to fully realise what was happening. Her first instinct was to get away from the chaos, and to safety; perhaps to the DMAC, but — a horrified thought struck her. "Pip!" she exclaimed to herself, but she needed to get to him. As she headed towards to the elevator, her foot caught something and she tripped, falling over, hitting her elbow against the hard floor. She yelped, but tried her best to get to her feet quickly. That was when she spotted someone nearby and Clara immediately suspected it was a vigilante; it had to have been — if they weren't fighting for the Ministry, they were fighting against them, and thus vigilante. Clara shouted, "Petrificus totalus!" at the vigilante, hoping that would suffice. Dirk hadn’t come all the way here just to be petrified, though. He sized up his opponent. Clara Avery. Pip’s wife. She was probably not a Death Eater, at least judging by the fact that she started out with easily shielded hexes. Ideally, he could just run by her, but judging from the fact that she was already trying to stop him, she wasn’t going to let that happen. Probably somewhat awkwardly, with something of a delay, he returned a “Stupefy!” He didn’t particularly want collateral damage, but she’d more than picked her side. He could stop her or fight her without feeling too much regret. How she managed to miss the stunning spell was a mystery to her, but she knew she wasn't going to be lucky for very long. She steadied herself, glancing around the room to assess the scene. A fucking ice rink in the middle of the Atrium, because of course. That only took her a moment's concentration, before the thudding noise of something large took precedence. Her eyes drifted upward, and lo and behold, a few trolls had been thumping their way through the Atrium. Not again, Clara thought to herself, but her concentration fell on the man near her. Not wanting to seem too behind on things, she followed up with a "Expelliarmus!" Dirk kept a tight hold on his wand and side stepped, kind of intent on darting down a corridor, only to hear the same trolls and see the same ice rink as Clara had. There were dangers in front of him, and also he didn’t want to turn his back to her. She was an Avery, and she wouldn’t just let him go. That meant she was an enemy, even if she was one he didn’t want to hurt, particularly. “Just…Depulso.” That would be nice and easy; he could banish her and he could run. This time, Clara wasn't as lucky as she had been. The banishing charm hit her in the middle of her abdomen, sending her flying backwards and unstoppable until her back came in contact with the stone wall. She yelped at the pain, landing in an awkward angle as she hit the ground. Her wand fell from her fingertips, but thankfully it wasn't too out of reach. "Adustum Frigoris!" she shouted as she pointed her wand at her opponent's feet. She didn't want to freeze the man to death, but she wanted to make him immobile all the same. So it wasn’t quite banish and run. Her spell came very close to catching his fake leg, which would’ve been annoying. Dirk didn’t lose his balance very much anymore; he’d had the magical limb for almost a year. But this time, he did, falling and scraping his knees and elbows on the ground. That was enough to make his temper rise, and for his gloves to come off. If she wanted to frostbite him forever, he could respond in kind, and then some. ”Uncus Electrica!” It wouldn’t hurt her forever. The blue light hit Clara long before she realized what had happened to the man's leg. There was no time to react as jolts of electricity went through her body. She screamed in pain, unaware of her surroundings or who was nearby. Soon enough, Clara realised she couldn't move. She was paralysed. It had taken Ellis this long to get back to Clara; weaving and dodging through the battle that had started just as she was about to leave. This time, she was feeling considerably more vulnerable than the last times she’d scampered through the battlezone. She didn’t care about the fighting between vigilantes and Death Eaters. She did, however, care about Clara who she already knew that, like previous, would get involved. Memories of Clara’s severe injuries spurred her onwards. Clara was far more important than this. “Stop!” she exclaimed, skidding to a halt beside her downed friend. No wand out, no nothing but her hands as she placed herself between the vigilante and Clara. “Just stop. I’m not going to fight you I’m— I’m just going to get her out here. Not interfere.” That was Ellis. Dirk blinked at how very suddenly he felt like the villain here. (He wasn’t, he reminded himself. Clara would’ve frozen him to death, if she’d had her choice.) He put his wand up in a sign of surrender, showing his full hand. “I’m not gonna hurt you.” Dirk was glamoured, but he felt exposed. He kept his sentences brief, curt, so that she wouldn’t have a chance of knowing who he was. “I didn’t want to hurt her either.” It felt necessary to say that. “Get her out. I’m going.” Ellis released a breath she hadn’t been fully aware that she’d been holding. There had been absolutely no guarantee that even unarmed the vigilante, depending on who it was, wouldn’t have harmed her and kept going. They hadn’t, however, and so she nodded and then bent down to clutch Clara’s arm, and wrap her own across her shoulders. “Right. Okay. I—” she looked around to see fighting all around; this was serious. “Thank you.” She’d been well aware that Clara would have stepped up to fight (there’d have been a time when she knew she would have, too), the fact that she was getting out of here with one of her best friends was worthy of thanks. “Do what you need to do.” She just didn’t give a damn anymore. The people were way more important. The flash of a smile that brought to Dirk’s much older-looking face was probably out of place. He took a few steps back, and he knew that he’d probably have to watch them til they were out. He trusted Ellis, to an extent. But not completely. “I will.” He promised. “Get out safe.” Level 7: The Cafeteria Stop the vigilantes; save the Ministry. It was an easy enough idea that wove its way around any other thought that might have been in Davey’s head. There wasn’t really room for anything else as he billowed his way through the Ministry, identity hidden behind his mask. Stop the vigilantes. Save the Ministry. He found himself in the cafeteria, wand out and aiming a blasting curse at the first person he saw. The spell didn’t hit. Niamh turned in time, a shield slammed up hard, the blasting curse glancing off it. Her heart was in her throat, fear and nervousness colliding, making her blood feel like an ugly sludge. She was so used to braving everything out, brashly launching herself forward. That’s why she was here. The Ministry had been her mum’s. The Ministry had been loved. She wanted to take it away from the people who didn’t deserve it. People who didn’t deserve it and wanted to attack her. The Death Eater was easy to spot, anonymous outfit still too telling. Niamh sneered at the figure and pointed her wand towards the bottom of his robes. “Incendio.” This spell did hit, flames licking up the fabric and serving as a distraction as Davey had to pause and extinguish them. It was a nuisance, but one that didn’t bother him too much through the calm of the Imperius. If Davey were himself, he’d be panicked — he’d never be at the Ministry in the first place. But he wasn’t really himself. Here he was a Death Eater, and his vigilante best friend was getting in his way. He aimed a series of slicing hexes next. Some of the hexes glanced off her shield, but another cut through, slashing open skin. Blood welled to the surface and Niamh swore, hissing harshly as she resisted the urge to press her hand against her forearm. “That hurts,” she said, although she didn't expect the death eater to care whatsoever. She expected him to care more about the chairs she charmed to attack to him. It was true, Death Eater Davey cared far more about the chairs that were suddenly coming at him, too much of a distraction for any niggling other thought to catch hold as they flew through the air in comedic fashion and bashed into him at irregular intervals. He sent one through the air back towards Niamh as the other slammed into his side and sent him stumbling forward — — right into an area affected with wonky gravity issues. Suddenly floating, Davey aimed a wild flaying curse. The chair that sailed through the air at her reached out, its legs acting like attacking arms, trying to grip onto her limbs and pull at them, entangling her. Niamh was suddenly disgusted by her own charms and tried to elbow the chair, as if brute force would somehow break it. It didn’t. It didn’t, but her flailing ended the charm on the chair and it crashed to the floor, breaking into pieces. With relief, she spun round, swaying close to the edge of the odd gravity field just as the Death Eater’s curse span into the air near her. It missed, but by a smidge — cutting through some hair instead of flesh. Niamh’s breath rattled in her throat as she sent a punching curse at the Death Eater, trying to guess where he was going to float to. The punching curse hit Davey’s stomach, knocking the air out of him as he floated backwards, flipping around a few times as he did. He shot off another couple of slicing hexes as he tried to steer himself back towards Niamh, only to hit the end of the erroneous gravity field and find himself falling dramatically to the floor with a loud thud and an even louder crack to the back of his head. He laid there, waiting for the stars to remove themselves from his vision. One of the hexes hit, digging into flesh at her shoulder, but Niamh walked on, letting the pain hit her as she took another few steps. They quickened as she realised the Death Eater was incapacitated. This was her chance. He was right there. He was right there, on the ground, undoubtedly seeing stars. She didn’t hesitate whatsoever as she bent down and reached for the mask. Her grip was steady and fierce as she pulled at it, mask coming away from the man’s face, and there was a savage twist to her mouth as she said, “I see you now, fucker.” The words died in her throat. She saw him now. Niamh’s chest froze, her lungs inflated and deflated, her heart burst out of her ribs, her bones turned to dust. Everything happened within a few seconds, her whole body crumbled and was rebuilt. Everything shifted. Everything changed. Again. There was surprise and then there was anger, nothing in between, no grief, no sadness, just fury. “Fucker,” she spat and she tossed the mask to the side where it shattered. “Davey, you fuck. You fuck you fuck you fuck.” Every repetition was accompanied by Niamh aiming her fist at some part of Davey’s body. Davey never should have been in this position. He never should have been in the Ministry, let alone behind robes. Let alone fighting his best friend. He wasn’t supposed to be unmasked. He was supposed to help save the Ministry, and Niamh was getting in the way. There was a twinge of something — of doubt, of realization, of decidedly not wanting to do this — but the imperius was too strong. It had taken hold for too long. He was too weak. Hands went to grab at Niamh’s wrists, to stop her from hitting him. “I’m supposed to stop you,” he said, because he was. Niamh tried to pull away from Davey and the strong, firm way his hand encircled her wrist. This was all wrong. Seeing him, in those robes, here, fighting her was all wrong. Bile rose in her throat and she tried to force it down. “You’re supposed to be fighting with me,” she shouted back, her words thick, obscured by a creeping grief she was trying to fight off with fury. And because she couldn’t hit him anymore she reared back and headbutted him. It was enough to make him let go of her as he stumbled back, any response dying in his throat (and what response would it have been? The imperius didn’t mix well with complicated feelings.) He stared at her, growing still while the chaos of the room kept moving, kept going. Then the calm of the imperius reasserted itself and he aimed a flaying curse right at her. The sheer incomprehensible nature of her best friend sending a flaying curse at her hit Niamh before the spell did, a paltry shield which only half worked. Some of the flesh on her arm ripped away from where it was supposed to be and she screamed. The sound was long, loud, harsh: she was screaming because it hurt in more ways than one. Her eyes filled with tears and a sob broke but she tried not to let it stop her. As her knees buckled, she half flung herself forward, her wand pointed at Davey (her best friend, the newest Death Eater in her life) and she sent a string of blasting curses at the ground around him and at him. Her scream bothered him. It wasn’t supposed to bother him, but it bothered him all the same. It bothered him enough that he didn’t guard against the curses in time, the blasts disrupting his balance and sending him flying backwards. He hit the ground hard again, bits of a nearby table crashing on top of him. He didn’t move. Niamh waited for a couple of seconds to check that he really wasn’t moving and then she scrambled forward, kicking aside furniture, ignoring the noises of the ghosts floating past. Her best friend was on the floor, unmasked, unmoving. She didn’t know what to do. With trembling fingers (a movement she put down to skin missing from her arm and nothing else) she mumbled a spell and ropes sprang forth from the tip of her wand, coiling around Davey’s ankles and wrists, binding him tight. There was an unpleasant sharpness in every breath she took, a stinging sensation in every cell of her body. She couldn’t unpack how she felt, except she was looking down at the tied up body of one of the people who knew her best and she was shaking. She couldn’t stop shaking. She reached out, her fingers unsteady as they traced along Davey’s cheekbone, his jaw. It was really him. Her touch hesitated for a moment, the overwhelming urge to hit him and keep hitting him rising up. He’d betrayed her. Everyone was leaving her in some way and this was how he had done it, too. Pushing herself to her feet, Niamh jabbed her wand at Davey’s body. She had to find someone. Eventually, Davey would wake up to find that everything had changed. Level 2: The Department of Magical Law Enforcement Of all the days to visit Evan at the Ministry, Diana Selwyn had clearly picked the wrong one. How irritating. It would be simple to just depart, to leave this fight to the children, but as she turned to go Selwyn found herself thinking of the execution -- great ratings; terrible profit-loss ratio -- and the dead face of Igor, the dead face of Barty Jnr, the dead face of Thorfinn and the dead face of Prudence and -- the faces wouldn't stop, and Evan's could not be next. No. So she stayed. Wand drawn, cold blue eyes darting back and forth about the largely-abandoned DMLE offices, Selwyn frowned. It had been a very long time since she'd fought anyone without her robes, every inch of the sable fabric hand-stitched with dark glyphs that drank up magic. The suit she'd worn today was smart and fashion-forward, yes, but it would afford her no protection in a duel. Also: high heels. A mistake, in retrospect, as the floor beneath Selwyn’s feet began to melt, the carpet rapidly liquefying. "Ugh," Selwyn ughed. A woman emerged from one of the empty offices, her wand a flurry of movement even as she kept her eyes trained on the Death Eater. After everything that had happened, the sight of Diana Selwyn almost unnerved Lina — almost. But the odds were in her favor today: Zee was in lockstep behind her, for one, and she had never been more determined to win a duel. “Now, fancy seeing you here, Selwyn,” Lina said, hastily throwing up a Protego to shield Zee and herself. “I was hoping I’d meet Yaxley.” Her wife, on the other hand, wasn't as keen to meet Selwyn in battle, but this was what she'd been training for. And Zee had the utmost confidence in Lina… or so she kept telling herself. The consummate pessimist couldn't help but imagine the worst and she had to tell herself to focus. Reaching her hand out, she touched Lina's wrist -- I've got your back, the gesture said, and she held her wand up, ready, but not about to make the first move. Diana Selwyn didn't immediately recognise the two glamoured women on sight, of course. But it took only a few syllables of that disdain she'd come to know so well to recognise -- "Johnson," she said to the first woman, with a slow smile even as she wandlessly froze the melting floor with a flourish of her free hand. "Fancy meeting you here." Her pale blue eyes moved from Lina to Zee. "And is this the missus?" Zee felt a chill run down her spine as Selwyn's eyes locked on hers. This was the woman who had a hold on her wife for months, who had some sort of sexual obsession with her. Zee could feel her lip curling slightly and she clenched her wand tighter in her hand, trying to remember everything Dorcas had taught her. "It's a pleasure," Zee deadpanned, then: "Wait, no. It's not." As Zee spoke, Lina slashed her wand through the air, firing off a volley of non-verbal slashing hexes at the Death Eater. Make jokes while you can, Goldstein, Selwyn was about to say, but she was presently distracted by Lina's slashing hexes. She spun on her heel to deflect them, but one got through, cutting into the meat of her shoulder. Selwyn swore under her breath; she needed to adjust to combat without her enchanted robes. Another mistake like that could be fatal. "I'm flattered by the attention, ladies, but you're well out of your league here." With a swoop of her wand, Selwyn hurled a volley of ice-daggers in Lina's direction. “You’re not nearly as good as you think you are, Selwyn,” Lina shot back, taking a few hasty steps backward as she arced her wand. The daggers froze in mid-air just a few mere inches away from her shield, sharp and glistening. Another flick of her wand sent the ice barrelling back in Diana’s direction, quickly following it up with a snapped “Uncus Electrica!” Beside her, Zee threw up a shield charm. "Oh, but I am," Diana crowed, free hand fluttering to her chest in mock dismay as she used her wand to deflect each dagger in turn and -- with an elegant little turn -- dodging Lina's electrical spell. "I'm the best there is at what I do, Lina. Little Josie learned that easily enough." A swooping arm motion set the ground beneath the other two women to freezing, floor suddenly a sheet of slippery ice. Selwyn sneered. "As if Muggle trash like you could ever get the best of me." Zee really wanted to laugh at that, sneer at Selwyn's words even if she couldn't completely disbelieve them, but suddenly there was ice everywhere and after taking a second to steady herself, she knew the best way to refute the Death Eater was by proving her wrong. "Locomotor coatrack," Zee hissed under her breath, quiet enough that Selwyn couldn't hear her, and from behind the woman came a rather irate-seeming coatrack, A fresh wave of anger had broken over Lina as soon as the name ‘Josie’ left Selwyn’s lips. Her jaw tightened as she wobbled unsteadily for a moment, eyes quickly surveying their surroundings. Then her wand snapped out, a non-verbal stickfast hex erupting from the tip of her wand. Diana was advancing on Lina with a wild-eyed grin when the coatrack bopped her in the back of the head. She cursed under her breath, wandlessly smashing it to pieces with a twist of her free hand -- and promptly turning all her attention to Lina's wife. "I wasn't going to make her watch me kill another one," Selwyn said, shaking her head. "But I just had my hair done, Zipporah. Rude. Very rude." Whipping forward, a snap of her wand through the air had Zee beginning... to freeze. Toes, feet, ankles, calves, up and up and up, flesh transfiguring steadily until below the neck the obliviator was an immaculately carved ice sculpture. "Say goodbye to Lina," Diana instructed her. "It's kind of me to give you the opportunity." Frantic, Zee tried to turn her head to look at her wife, and as she realised what was going on, tears starting rolling down her face. No, not even her face, just one she'd adopted to hide her identity - they were both still glamoured, which had ended up being for nothing. She didn't know quite how this spell worked, but it seemed obvious she was going to die, and she couldn't even do looking at her wife's own face. "Lina," she pleaded. "Please… once I'm gone, kill her." Zipporah’s plea barely registered in the former Auror’s mind. Lina wasn’t going to watch another woman she loved die, not at the hands of Diana Selywn. Not at all. Fury and fear consumed her as she stormed forward, her wand snapping through the air. One flick sent the Death Eater flying into the opposite wall, and Diana barked a surprised cry of pain as she slammed hard against the stone. With her concentration broken, Selwyn's transfiguration reversed, and Zee was flesh and blood again. Another downward slash of Lina's wand sent white-hot arcs of lightning crackling toward the blonde witch. “How dare you,” she snarled, eyes bright. “You don’t touch her.” Before the lightning even connected, Selwyn could feel that she'd broken several bones in the initial impact. She reached up feebly to deflect the electrical spell but found her strength lacking, and a scream tore from her lips as she was soundly electrocuted. Her hair, she realised almost offhand, was singed and smoking. She'd need another trip to the salon after all. "That's it, Johnson," she said, slumped against the wall, her wand pointed at the auror. "There's that rage. Harness that. It makes you stronger. Makes you pure, makes you fury incarnate." Selwyn's arm burned with the twinned sensations of electrical feedback and her Dark Mark beckoning a retreat. "When next we meet, Lina: one on one. Winner take all. Two women enter, one woman leaves." She grit her teeth into a grin, mentally counting her broken ribs. "I'm looking forward to it." A kiss, blown to Lina, and Diana Selwyn was gone, a portkey dragging her battered body far, far away. Lina rushed over to Zee at once, grabbing her by the arms to steady her. Her eyes didn’t leave her wife’s face as she said, “You’re okay. I’m going to get you to a Healer.” Zee was shivering, and though she was miraculously alive, she could barely feel anything. She leaned on Lina, doing her best to stay up, and forced a smile. "You were fantastic," she said, teeth chattering. "And M-rlin does she have it for you, but she can fuck right off." Level 8: The Atrium “Great extension,” Reginald (Abel) called from the side of the enormous, newly implemented ice rink. Attempting to look as inconspicuous as possible (which took effort, considering Abel had knowingly spoken only a handful of words to Reginald Avery in his entire life) Abel sipped from the teacup that Bode insisted he bring with him. It seemed a little ridiculous, but the older man had given an impassioned speech about why drinking tea from fine china in the middle of an atrium wasn’t entirely suspect for the DMAC head. Besides, Reginald was just enjoying his hot beverage while watching his good friend Antonin Dolohov skate. What a fine day for terrorism and bigotry! “Ooh,” Abel marvelled as Antonin did a little spin. “Thank you,” Lily said, her wand clutched in Antonin’s hand as she surveyed her surroundings. Dark robes and masks were already appearing around them and it was only a matter of time until their disguises stopped being good enough to hide behind. And then, quite suddenly and loudly, she added, “I don’t believe in vaccinations.” “Of course not,” Abel agreed in Reginald’s measured voice, “what respectable bigo-- wizard would.” Keeping tabs on the Death Eaters around them, Abel calmly sipped his tea. Which was an odd thing to say, considering these two Inner Circle knights had supported Garland in his venture into anti-muggleborn vaccinations. Then again, there were several odd things in this scenario, Reginald Avery calmly sipping from a fine bit of china while Antonin Dolohov attempted to skate past, being one of them. So from the other end of the rink, the masked and robed Death Eater sent a silent revelio in their direction. Abel watched as Antonin Dolohov rapidly became Lily Potter, the robes dragging along the ice behind her. Finally. Relieved, he didn’t bother finishing his tea before tossing the cup to the ground. Wand out, Abel spotted the Death Eater that seemed to be staring directly at them. “Confrigo!” “Oh, thank god,” Lily breathed, staring down at her own hands now, her robes hanging awkwardly on her frame. Being Antonin Dolohov had been weird and she wasn’t sorry to say goodbye to that experience. But she spun around on her skates to face the Death Eater who’d upped their jig and sent a Confringo! of her own after Abel’s, aiming her wand lower. As the imposters became vigilantes, Garland erected a solidly protective protego, the double impact of the blasting curses producing enough force to impel him back by a few unwilling steps in order to maintain his balance. Lily Potter was a figure everyone knew of by now -- certainly, as the mother of the much hunted infant, how could any Death Eater not know her face? -- and Abel Meadowes was someone he'd faced in battle before. Garland supposed he'd found his fight. With a small sweep of his wand, the Death Eater sent five pairs of unclaimed ice skating boots flying straight towards Abel, blades first, then turned to deal with Lily. The ice beneath her feet began to deform -- not melting, but stretching upwards, frigid, sharp tendrils reaching greedily for her ankles and shins. As icy hot pain pricked at her legs, Lily couldn’t help but protest, “Defacing the ice!” The too-large robes ripped as she kicked free from the ice, wobbling a bit as she stepped out onto smoother surfaces. She thought, briefly, of James and how the last time she’d fought at the Ministry had been at his side and her chest clenched. But she shoved her hand in her pocket and emerged with a potion that would explode on impact, throwing it at the Death Eater and guiding its trajectory with her wand. More like knives that skates, the boots rocketed towards Abel at ferocious speed, slamming into his shield charm with enough force to crack glass. One cut cleanly just above his head, embedding itself into the wall behind them. Abel was not so used to being on ice, and as he strode forward to help Lily, he slipped, overcompensating for his loss in balance with a lunge to the side. Shit. He tried to ground his weight, shifting back on his heels. “Vinculumus, he recovered, taking advantage of Lily’s explosion, flames streaming over the unseen surface of Garland's shielding ward. His attention was on that exploding vial, and not on Abel, who he thought had pulled away during the blades' attack. And so the arresting charm managed to cut through that selfsame shield which kept him from catching fire, a chain wrapping itself around his wrist and drawing tight. Garland yanked himself hard against it, raising his wand to hurl a Reducto at the narrow space between the two vigilantes. Lily was too busy volleying a pepper spray spell back at the Death Eater to pay the blue flash of his next spell much mind until the ice between her and Abel shattered explosively. Knife-like shards pelted her already tender legs and she hissed under her breath. She lost her balance almost immediately and fell hard on the ice, but her wand was out again, aimed at the ice’s edge. She forced the ice around the Death Eater’s feet. Abel hadn’t been so lucky. In the explosion, a larger piece of ice broke off, ricocheting off another shard and slamming into the former Hit’s calf muscle. Tendon and sinew severed cleanly, forcing Abel to collapse clumsily to one knee with a muffled cry of pain. Blood began to drip onto the ice. Shifting forward to compensate for the shard sticking out of his leg, Abel grit his teeth, determined. His father’s voice was in his ear. “Uncus electrica!” Bolts of electricity climbed up the ice and towards Garland’s legs. The smooth metal of his mask and its inlaid spells protected Garland from the peppery spray. That it would be the last time it did such a thing was a bit of prognostication that was beyond him, especially when he was hit by both ice and electricity. He fell to the ground with a hiss of surprise, a heavy thud of long limbs and dark robes now frosting beneath the influence of Potter's spell. But before he could think to stall it, his muscles convulsed again under the electrical current. Even fallen, the Death Eater was still dangerous, though. And the mask they wore told Lily they still had something to hide. She pushed herself up so she wasn’t sprawled across the ice, shifting her weight from the hip she’d landed on to her other. The ice had seemed like such a good idea at the time! Lily’s eyes darted briefly to Abel and his blood on the ice and she inhaled sharply as she returned her attention to the Death Eater. She didn’t dare look at her own legs. Instead, she pointed her wand and aimed an acid curse at the his mask. The stench of acid on metal was unmistakable. The stench of acid on flesh was even worse, and Garland did not want that in his nostrils. The second the electricity had dissipated, he pushed himself through the lethargy now gripping his muscles and reached up to yank at his mask, flinging it off through pure protective reflex, wanting it, needing it, off. But a drop of it spattered onto his jaw, hissing on contact with skin. With a grimace, Garland struggled onto his knees, gaze cutting to the other two and landing on the bright crimson surrounding Abel. Instinct demanded he stop what was burning his skin. Duty demanded victory. "Avada kevadra!" “Nex muscularis!” The entire area was bathed in wash of green, the two curses cutting past one another, reflecting electric light off of the ice below. Already lower, Abel instinctively flung himself forward, narrowly missing the killing curse, left arm bracing the majority of his weight as he held his wand steady. It wasn't a spell the Hitwizard would normally use in any circumstance. But this was a war and Garland Mulciber had made it clear that he would kill them both if given the chance. Abel was practical. The curse, changing with the angle of Abel’s dive, jumped up and directly into the side of Garland’s face. That was not acid. The sharp sting that had rooted itself in his jaw now became something else, something deep and throbbing and wrong -- this was a curse of the darker variety, and Garland would have recognised that evil signature even if it had been cast in silence. He'd certainly cast enough dark magic in his years bearing the mark, and he'd certainly been introduced to a wide variety of them under the tutelage of both his father and Rodolphus Lestrange. He sucked in a breath, refusing to let the pain grip him. He had to break the connection, and he had to put an end to both of these vigilantes. Gritting his jaw -- and already the muscles on the left side of his face burned and twisted under the effects of the curse -- he shakily got up to his knees, trying to slice through Abel's aim with a Volnero dashing towards his wand arm, and then following that up with a volley of Confringos, one at the ground before Lily, and one aimed (as best he could) at the centre of her chest. And then he fell back, throwing a desperate series of blasts at Abel. When Lily’s wand shot out with a shield charm, it was for the first spell Garland aimed at Abel. It was horrifying, watching what was happening to the Death Eater’s face, but it was in their best interest that Abel hold the dark spell. The desperate slashing hex and the shield charm clashed and both spells blinked out of existence. The blasting curses, however, met their mark. The ice at Lily’s folded knees exploded, flinging both flames and shards of ice at her. She recoiled with a pained cry, throwing an arm instinctively across her face and leaving her open for the second spell to hit her square in the chest. The wind was knocked out of her as she was thrown back, sliding several feet along the ice. Abel gritted his teeth, seeing Lily fall to the ice from the corner of his eye but unable to break his focus on the curse currently incapacitating Garland. However, without Abel’s experience in casting dark spells, it wasn't enough. With a curse, Abel’s connection was broken as one of Mulciber’s desperate hexes hit the ice just in front of the former hit, spitting razor sharp shards into his face. He rolled, dodging the second and throwing a strong shield charm up to catch the third. Nimbly, Abel ignored the screaming pain in his calf to come back up on his knees, keeping low to maintain whatever small advantage. Lily was injured. They needed to end this now and Mulciber already appeared to be in poor shape. “Immobulus!” "Protego," croaked Garland, only the word was somehow garbled in his ruined mouth. Only sheer iron-minded will managed to force the protective spell into being, though it was weak, flickering on impact with Abel's attack. The freezing charm managed to push its way through a crack in his shield, and his left shoulder went numb just as the mark deeply embedded in his forearm began to burn and burn and burn. Instinctively he knew that the Dark Lord was not pleased. That they were being called to retreat. Garland hauled himself up to his feet, a loose REDUCTO thrown at the two in order to cover him as he began to run to the nearest exit. Still gasping for breath, Lily had managed to haul herself to the heels of her hands in the time it had taken for Abel to volley back his spells. She hefted her weight to one arm so she could could throw up a quick shield. It engulfed the new spell, but Garland was beating his retreat and she wasn’t sure she had it in her to chase after him. She turned to Abel, catching his eye and shrugging helplessly. “Stupefy,” Abel ordered, desperate. The spell hit the ground behind Garland harmlessly, allowing the Death Eater to make his exit unimpeded. Abel sighed, turning to Lily, his own hastily summoned shield charm dissipating. They’d had him. Damnit. Not that Abel was in any condition to do much more than kneel here anyway. Wincing, the former hit settled back down onto the ice, mindful of the shard still impaled in his leg. Garland didn’t seem to be the only robed figure making a hasty exit, and Abel watched, taking that as a good sign. The sign they had fought for. He breathed heavily, looking back to Lily, shifting onto his side so that he could drag himself closer to her. “Alright?” Lily shook her head and didn’t bother asking Abel if he was all right. Instead, she let herself collapse against the ice and dug in her pocket. After a moment of rummaging, she held up her portkey to Hogwarts and pressed it into his hand. “I think I’m over ice skating,” she said breathlessly before activating the portkey and disappearing from the atrium with Abel. |