Margaret Shield (sophist) wrote in epiloguesic, @ 2015-05-09 21:48:00 |
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Entry tags: | !backstory, !log, character: lily evans, character: maren cuffe, date: 1984-may |
WHO. Lily Evans & Maren Cuffe
WHERE. A Muggleborn 're-education' camp, & the underground M safe haven.
WHEN. About three months ago.
WHAT. Lily and M come to Maren's rescue and get a little more sass than they expected.
WARNING. ... meh.
STATUS. Complete.
****“Re-education” was a liberal term which, when applied to the conditioning regimen undergone by Muggleborns at the camps, made dead cats in boxes seem all the more appealing. Maren Warren -- Maren Cuffe, bitch, liar, Mudblood -- whoever she was at this juncture, had enough survival skill to preserve some tiny kernel of herself that lead to a months-long project. Enough copper wire, and just a spark (it was all she could possess, all she could produce) of magic was enough to shock herself and those within a twenty-foot radius into a stupor. But in the absence of hope, she found enough willpower to steal her jailer’s wand and flee.
There was little in the way of cover and the guard towers, well-patrolled, were only blocked by her wildly uncontrolled magic. Black jets flew from her stolen wand as it sought to understand its owner. But even in their own fight, as if the wand could sense the just cause for which it was plied, she was able to stun the guards further. When she reached the gates and when exhaustion took hold - magic, for what it was worth, needed a stamina she did not possess - the Muggle talents took over. With a pin from her hair, she knelt and began to pick the lock. Each tumbler rolled into place, slow and incomprehensive of its very manual engineering, as fresh guards from the other side of the compound arrived. In fear for their own lives, their hexes flew wild. However, she was the recipient of several that caused her lips to bleed as she bit them to stay about her work. Then, when the gate was opened and she flung herself through the wards (pain on pain, doubled down and shaken together) she gathered what little strength she possessed and attempted to Apparate.
The hook through the gut, Apparition’s signature move, was bright enough to overwhelm and as she sought the thought of where she had been meaning to go it had been realised … finally, that she’d succeeded. Somewhat. There was soft heather to lie upon, there was a fiery pain in her right arm. Whether it was splinching or the curses to their work, she did not know. But when the sun reached zenith altitude, weakly pilfering through the dense clouds to pepper the ground with its gaze, Maren had gone to ground.
If rest could be had, it would be but for a moment -- wizards knew well to keep track of their prey, and it was but a brief respite before the distinctive sounds of Apparition, bubbles popping across the vast, sparse field, filled the air, wands at the read to reclaim their errant prisoner--
--only to be met with the unexpected barrage of spells flying their way, and what was lacking in precision was more than made up for with sheer passion. The pursuers buckled and went down under the assault, collapsing in heaps upon where they had stood.
And when the last form collapsed into the grass, a wide hole blown sheer through his chest and still smoking, the members of M moved forward, cautiously disarming their fallen prey and searching them for both information and valuable resources. The atmosphere was, overall, quite jovial. Nothing like a sheer and total victory to lift the spirits.
”Cor, this one’s got twenty galleons!”
”High roller!”
”Drinks on Farmer tonight, lads!”
”Hey--!”
Lily’s movements were perfuctionary. Quick assessment of status -- dead, or nearly (she would mercifully end their life as needed), pointed swipes through the pockets for anything of use (aside from money, rarely -- wizards, so ridiculous), and then move on. It was when she stumbled upon a woman in the grass that she paused, suddenly confronted with the unexpected. The prison clothes, the injuries -- they were not of someone who did the pursuing. Lily touched two fingers to the woman’s throat, noted he blood splattered across her lower lip. Pulse thready. “Got a live one here!”
Voices, she supposed, broke into the buzzing in her veins and her ears. And she remembered all the religion her mother had attempted to save her with, all the nights discussing the fundamentals of what happens after life ends, she found herself wondering if Mama was right all along.
Then, as the sun haloed the face above her, her slitted eyes could pick out pale features and emerald green eyes. She swallowed, hand extending to grasp the other’s outstretched arm by the wrist.
“ -- I’ll kill you if you take me back.”
And in response, Lily grinned, an edge of feralness glinted in her eyes. Her hand moved to cover the woman’s. “Don’t worry, love. You’ll never have to go back there again.”
The big, broad men of M -- they did so much, through their sheer physicality -- swarmed and took hold of the woman, scooping her up and holding her close as they Disapparated.
And after the mission was said and done -- another site burned to the ground, its captives brought to the safehouse in various states of disrepair -- Lily, run ragged, exhausted, half delirious, always made it a point to sweep medical. To assess. To comfort. She always vowed not to, and yet.
The first bed -- the woman, the one with steel in her eyes. Lily sat down upon the edge, partook in the act of study, as if visual assessment could yield clues as to the workings and mettle contained within. One thing she could divine at least -- “...I know you’re awake.”
Days, perhaps. Hours. Moments. Time was of no consequence here as she, her wounds bound and the dark magic plied against her held at bay, healed. With no consequence … or, perhaps … ? More. When she was conscious, when she asked where she was, her Healers simply smiled. And it had become, as much as possible, her modus operandi to understand or overhear. Now, the jewel-cut woman and those no-nonsense words.
Her eyes flickered open. “You’re M.”
Lily’s gaze met the woman’s. They were particularly clear eyed -- unhazed by the fogginess of potions, steady and sharp. There was little this one missed and, more importantly, little that shook her resolve. “One of,” Lily confirmed with a short nod. “You’re at a safehouse. We found you about fifty kilometers outside our intended target. Any further or nearer, and we’d have missed you all together. My name is Lily Evans.”
“ -- you’re targeting the reeducation compounds?” Slowly, pushing to her elbows to meet the woman’s gaze on a more even kill, she took a breath. M was supposed to be a rumour made up by desperate Muggleborns without hope, an urban myth for the weak, the way the Muggles used Santa Claus to let their children dream of more.
“But wait. M really exists.” A pause. “Lily. Hi.”
“Reeducation? Is that what they’re calling them now?” Incredulity furrowed her brow -- tone infused with an air of heavy gallows humour before it too receded into the matter at hand. “If we didn’t exist, you’d very likely be back there right now. Or dead, more likely.” The government did not suffer rebellion lightly. Problem subjects were swiftly and promptly dealt with. “You escaped. How?”
“That’s what they’re calling them, and Lily? M is -- a myth. Nobody believes it. How many reeducation campus have you taken over?” She took a breath and sat up, wrapping her hands within her blankets.
“I found some wire, hid it over a couple months, and was able to create a circuit, electrocuted them a little bit.” I made a spark. That was my spark. No wand, just mine. “Then I stole a wand and made a run for it.”
The news of Maren’s escape was met with a raised brow of impressed awe. Perhaps it wasn’t precision or sophistication or strategy, but it was sheer determination, skill and utter commitment -- to live and die standing. “Nine, including today. We’ve worked very hard to cultivate that reputation. It’s what has kept us safe, those shadows, the ignorance of the general public, the sheer arrogance of the Empire.”
“And for as much as I’m going to thank you, because I’d be dead, there are still people dying without hope. Because they don’t know that 9 camps have been overturned. How do you do it?” Her brow arched to hear nine. Even with all her abilities to listen in on the news that came through Barnabas, this hadn’t been a thing. This hadn’t been a known entity. A pause, then -- “Do you use magic?”
“Don’t you think I know that…?” was snapped out, and then almost just as immediately regretted. Lily’s hands twisted in her lap before she realised the habit and commanded them to still. A breath, first. “We use what knowledge of magic we have. Some of us have even had some schooling. Perhaps the wizards have a right to fear us -- some of us are simply… powerful, but...it’s our commitment, I think, that has kept us going for this long.” And so little left to lose. “We’re not...many of us have had our own experiences with your reeducation camps. There wasn’t really a name for them though. Death camps seems more fitting, don’t you think?”
Her crooked smile, empty for all she attempted to pour into it, was quickly vanished. “There aren’t many of us. We have to protect what we have, because there aren’t many of us who volunteer who can actually fight back. There are even less of us today. Every time we do this, we always seem to lose more….” Faces flickered across her mind -- but just as quickly, Lily would have them tabled. There would always be collateral damage, and every member of M knew what they were signing up for. These were the things Lily always had to remind herself of, every day, like a mantra.
“What was yo --” Maren stopped herself, understanding that this woman would only share as she found herself comfortable with sharing. But if words were their only commerce then, maybe she could help them. She could help M.
“You want a safe way to get the word out, Lily Evans? I can help.”
After a blink and a swipe of her hand to push back the errant hair that always seemed to fall across her face, Lily eyed the woman -- the identification bracelet, before it had been removed and destroyed, had read her as Cuffe, Marren -- more closely, not simply for initial threat or possible emotional state -- but sincerity now. Truth. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that there are ways.” She swallowed. “There are ways to communicate with Muggleborns, there are ways to expand this revolution … to bring in, you know. Everyone.” Maren leaned forward, finally noticing the lack of the identification bracelet upon her wrist. Her palm grasped that bare length --
“You know who I am, who I was. Know that there are gaps in the Wireless, there are ways to protect us while reaching out to them.”
“What you’re proposing is courting danger.” What Maren was describing, the concept was new and terrifying. It would no longer be them simply moving within the shadows, darting out only to drag their enemies into darkness with them, remaining safely cloaked all the while. It would be reaching out a blind, open hand, not knowing if it would get bitten.
It was on Lily’s lips to automatically dismiss the notion, put Maren off with a simple, we’ll see.
But the small gesture in Lily’s periphery drew her focus to the bracelet’s absence upon Maren’s wrist too. As a rule, they were immediately confiscated and destroyed, with new ones issued proclaiming new identities as muggles. Lily had kept hers, though. Had gone about removing the tracking spell on it herself, but hadn’t been able to follow through on obliterating it from existence. It stayed at the bottom of a shoebox hidden in a floorboard of the flat she occupied, and though the shoebox had seen a frequent change of locations, the bracelet had remained. “Then again, Maren Cuffe, that seems to have been the story of your life. If you think you can do it….”
“ … I think we should try.” And if their transmission failed, then there would be other ways and means by which they could fight. She didn’t know if it was right, wanting to be assimilated into wizarding culture, or to break it all down and start anew. She supposed the only thing she could rightly do was first try to give others the hope she now had.
“I remember thinking I was the only one, Lily. That there were no others like me. I know we all have a similar story, but … no more.”
There was a weight heavy within Maren’s gaze, speaking to what her words could not. Lily imagined hers held it too, as did so many of them here. Would there ever be a time when they could meet one of their own, clear eyed? Wasn’t that, ultimately, what they worked so hard for now? Decision made, Lily finally stood up, her shoulders set with purpose. “Rest. Get better. When you’re well enough to stand...we’ll talk further and get you what you need.”