Mad World Mods (madworldmods) wrote in madworldrp, @ 2007-10-03 23:17:00 |
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Entry tags: | meghan mccormack, vindictus viridian |
Vindictus & Meghan
LJ-SEC: (ORIGINALLY POSTED BY highland_keeper)
Who: Vindictus Viridian and Meghan McCormack
What: The Alliterated Ones Meet! Or, alternately, Vin Hexes Meg: THE SHOWDOWN.
Where: A slightly out of the way staircase between the library and Gryffindor tower.
When: 4 Oct (tomorrow! Slightly pre-dated)
Rating: PG13 for language and violence.
Complete
Finding time to study wasn't hard, exactly, it just wasn't on Meghan's priority list. Between Quidditch and Quodpot and Landon and general time spent slacking off, her four classes weren't really that difficult for her, anyway. Sometimes, however, even Meghan needed to crack open a book, and she was on her way back from the library, four Transfiguration texts in her arms. While they weren't exactly heavy, they weren't the most comfortable things to carry either, and Meg settled herself on a bench while she arranged them in her bag.
Something creaked above her and Meg craned her head around, trying to see, but it was lost in the darkness. Shrugging - probably a mouse - Meghan finished and flung her bag over her shoulder, hurrying towards her common room. It was getting late, and she'd like to do her homework in the comfort of her own bed, thanks, instead of the library. She took the stairs two at a time, pausing halfway up as she heard another tiny noise. Just a scuff, like a shoe trying to duck back into an alcove to avoid being seen. There was definitely someone up there. Maybe she was just being paranoid, she tried to tell herself, but that didn't stop her from drawing her wand. Caution never hurt anyone, especially when they were unsettled. And hearing noises like shoes squeak? That was a bit disconcerting. In the way where it was actually kind of terrifying.
"Who's there?" she demanded, voice echoing off the stone walls to bounce back at her and reverberate in her ears. Casting Lumos, she advanced warily up the stairs, hefting her bag on her left shoulder and trying to get it out of the way.
Vindictus was mad as hell; Septima didn't seem to be on his side, and he couldn't find Evan or Regulus. So he needed to blow off steam and try out a blinding hex he'd read about. He settled down at the top of the stairs and just ... waited. Soon enough, someone was coming. Vindictus fired off two shocks at a mouse; it scurried along the walls. When Meghan started up the stairs, he aimed just above her head, the same slight shocking hex; she stopped, looked confused, then demanded to know who was there, even drawing her wand.
Vindictus sighed, moving back further into the shadows as the light from her wand swept down the stairs. Now or never; he steadied his hand, aimed, and whispered the hex, grinning as it hit her square between the eyes.
She screamed in pain, clutching at her head where the hex could landed. Who the hell had done it? Reacting instinctively, Meg fired a trip-jinx back but with no sight, it was hard to aim, and she heard it ping off a statue. Frantically trying to think of something, she settled on the stairs, crouching down with her bag in front of her and sat as still as possible. She hoped it was dark. She hoped she could hear them before they saw her. She wished she could bloody well see.
Blinding hex, blinding hex, what was the counter-curse for a blinding hex? She was sure there was one, but her memory wasn't the best at that particular moment in time. Trying to breathe silently, Meg tilted her head, waiting, lips parted to shout another jinx at the slightest sound.
Vindictus wanted to laugh when she screamed, but moved quietly while she caused noise, not even ducking as the spell was fired and missed him completely.
He fired the Wackbards Hex, knowing if she heard him speak and fired something off, she'd be firing blind. Not to mention she wouldn't be able to retaliate. Vindictus found himself nearly enjoying himself, using these hexes; he could use them and they were useful and she was powerless.
He allowed himself to laugh then, chuckle softly. Oh, when Persephone heard about this, she'd think twice about dating someone- or even attending the ball with- someone who would not reflect well on the Viridian name.
Meg felt the hex blister across her lips and gritted her jaw, wrenching open her bag and tossing one of the heavy books across the staircase as a diversion. She slipped down a couple stairs and to the left, as quietly as possible.
At least, it would have been if she could see where she was going. Feeling herself over-balance and going backwards, Meg grabbed for what she hoped would be a railing somewhere. Clinging to it with one arm, Meg flattened herself against it, steadying herself as best she could. It wasn't often she found herself being toyed with, and the usual obstinate tendency to dig in her heels and refuse to play was kicking in. Meghan peered up the stairs, jaw set.
"Never could stand cowards," she said, instantly moving a little bit away from her held position. Except, due to the hex, it came out: "Kever nould stowards cand." Blinking, Meg had the good sense not to try it again, and kept inching across the stair, trying to get to the opposite side. If she could reach it and finish getting down safely, there was a niche there she could use for some sort of cover.
Like a book was a diversion at all, Vindictus watched her, following her on the stairs carefully, debating his next move; he wanted her to do something bold, but at the same time ... he was feeling so exhilarated. So free. So ... in control. It was like nothing could stop him. Especially not the Gryffindor he had at his fingertips.
"Expelliamus," he hissed lowly, not in the mood to actually catch the wand. He chuckled lightly again as it clattered down the stairs, rolling to a gentle stop just past the bottom step; he reached out for the girl, touched her arm lightly, slid his fingers down to her wrist, squeezing tight and holding his wand at her neck. "I think that's it for now," he said lowly, knowing it disguised his voice. "And you get to be the messenger to all the little half-breeds and Muggleborns around here that they shouldn't cross lines where they don't belong. All right?"
He squeezed her wrist again, smiled, waited.
"Oh, yuck sourfelf," she snarled, lip curling up in disgust. While garbled, the sentiment of the statement still got through, and Meg didn't back down, thrusting her chin out blindly. Let him hex her again, shove her down the stairs, strangle her, do what he may - Meghan wasn't quitting.
She shook her head violently, indicating what was obviously a "no" to the "all right?", spitting in the direction the words had come from. She hoped it landed in his eyes. What was surely a wand-tip did little to faze her, and she pressed against it, testing it, before her next move. This was pure adrenaline - her usual problem of over-thinking things was gone, replaced by a sheer rage that ran through every muscle and sinew in her body and had her trembling in his grip like a tuned violin.
He tightened his grip, twisted his head away at the spittle; she was fiesty. "You just get my message across," he hissed, throwing her arm back at her and withdrawing up a step, then two, just to watch what happened next.
Adrenaline was powerful, but she was only a test, a simple test and now a simple messenger. He didn't need to let himself get out of control. Dedalus Diggle on the other hand ... he could go out of control with him. And whomever his sister wanted to date; those hexes would come later- closer to the ball. The night of the ball if he had to.
He crouched on the step, his head tipped, an odd smile on his face, just watching and waiting.
Meghan was a little shocked at being let go. She had figured that a reprisal would come for spitting, at the least. Still, she caught her balance on the staircase again and glared ahead, jaw set solidly, and thought of all the things she'd enjoy saying to her attacker if only they'd come out right. "Say it yourself." "I won't be your messenger." And, naturally, a heartfelt "fuck you, mate." Thinking him to be gone, Meg lashed out in angry frustration, kicking at air. When you weren't well-balanced, that wasn't the best thing to try, and she slipped off the edge of the stair tread. Reaching out desperately, she latched onto something soft and a little hard to hold.
Grabbing for it with both hands, Meghan tugged at his hair like a lifeline, realizing it for what it was and determined to pull it out just for the measure of pain it would bring to him, if not keep her from falling.
He grinned at the lashing out, the look of helplessness and determination on her face; some people were fighters, she was certainly one of them.
He was unprepared, however, for her falling forward and latching on to him; still, he had grown up with Perse pulling on his hair all the time; he reached down and hit her solar plexus; physical was physical after all, no need to grab his wand when he could actually see his victim.
Piss and vinegar only got so far, and her luck had just run out. Winded badly, Meg curled in on herself, one hand wrapping around her stomach as she tilted backwards, bringing only a few strands of hair in her closed fist. Biting her lip hard enough to draw blood, she tumbled down the stairs, head bumping off the treads as she went.
When she finally came to rest, curled in a small, unconscious ball at the foot, her wand rolled to a stop on the stair above her.
"Fuck!" Vindictus hissed. He hadn't meant to actually hurt her like ... that! Just a few hexes! Nothing like ... unconsciousness! That was reserved for the pure scum of the universe.
He knew there was a hidden staircase nearby, he made as much noise as possible, setting off as many blasting hexes as he could, slipping behind the staircase when he heard angry voices.
Holding his breath, he watched as Filch knelt over the girl, closing his eyes briefly when he muttered that she was alright. With a shocking tenderness, Filch lifted the Gryffindor into his arms, sniffing the air as though he could smell the guilt on Vindictus. He waited a long moment until they had passed, then, with a slight shakiness in his step, made his way to the Slytherin commons, the tremor gone by the time he uttered the passcode.
He passed unnoticed to his room and slipped between his pulled down curtains (as he was always leaving them untied back). If anything, he could say he was napping. But still, despite the slight guilt at making her fall, he was happy the hexes had worked. And so well.
He smiled. It was game time.