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Post by Curse Kameren on Sept 2, 2011 11:00:11 GMT -5
It was silent when Curse Kameren finally set foot on the grounds of Castle Innvar.
It had been three days he and Alex spent searching for this God-forsaken castle, and to say Curse was impatient would be an understatement. He was bursting, his temper edging into critical ever since he got notice of the attack on his home. Mosrael had taken his son. She invaded his family, used his loved ones to get to him. She may have invaded his mind, but this was too far. He wouldn't take this. She couldn't touch his son.
And, after tonight, she would never do it again. Curse would settle this with Mosrael in the only way he knew he could. He was going to take her down, take his son back by force. She was not as all-powerful as she figured, and he would show her that tonight.
Curse glanced over his shoulder as his brother appeared, also silently. It was an ability most aurors knew, and a valuable tool in their line of work. They had appeared on the outskirts of the grounds; the castle was still a ways in the distance, through forest. They were lucky to make it this far, though. The castle was so heavily protected the brothers had spent the last two days trying to get through it. It didn't matter now, though. Now Curse had one thing on his mind.
Protect. Fight. Defeat. Curse had tried his best being a peaceful man for as long as he could, but this was where he was meant to be. It was here, on the battlefront, where he was truly excellent. He bit the inside of his cheek, the horozontal scar on the outside glowing a soft silver as he did so; it was a power-boost, from a ritual he had done ages ago in Italy. He would need every ounce of power he had, but he was sure he could defeat Mosrael. She underestimated him, and that was his biggest strength.
Curse popped a cigarette in his mouth, lighting it quickly as he and his brother headed down towards the castle. Time to get his son back.
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Post by Theo Bowre on Sept 2, 2011 18:01:52 GMT -5
Still damp from his escape through London's late night, rain-soaked streets, Theo Bowre apparated to the edge of the castle ruins that he had only previously witnessed in a drawing. Seeing the devastated yet commanding structures in person left him with an anticipatory, foreboding energy: this was the darkness where Mosrael preyed and his brother unwillingly followed. Evil bred here; light was consumed by shadow. Somewhere within the moss-streaked walls, Theo would find the woman who had destroyed the lives of so many loved ones. He only prayed he'd find Jack within them as well.
Theo negotiated the stone foundation, his boots having difficulty gaining traction on the slick surfaces. Curses were whispered in to the cool Highland air and he found his eyes taking longer than expected to adjust to the odd, monochromatic light that pooled in from the setting twilight. Theo had decided not to call out for his brother: he was certain that Mosrael knew of his presence, but if Jack were to learn of it, the Minister would be reckless to sacrifice himself. His leave from the apartment study confirmed this fear of Theo's and while Jack refused to place his family in danger, Theo refused to go home without his.
The beater slid down a boulder in to the old remnants of a courtyard. The mosaic-like brickwork was familiar to Theo only because of the drawing in Jack's journal; he found himself looking up to where he expected to find a window and wasn't disappointed. This was the first moment that Theo noticed the absence of sound. Gone from the air around him was the music of nature: the steady wind off the loch had suddenly ceased, the auditory presence of insects and wildlife was gone. The silence was so significant that Bowre found himself in slight distress, as though he were searching for Jack inside his head.
Theo reached for his driftwood wand, pulling back a curtain of hair-like moss that left his hand moist with dew. There was an arched doorframe beneath the window - that much he remembered. And if he had studied the image correctly, it should be right behind the...
There.
Despite the fact that the door of the entrance was long destroyed, Bowre was met by an immense darkness that curtained whatever lay beyond. Reaching a hand in, he felt the immediate chill of the interior and fought an instant shudder that crept down his back. Jack was in there. Even within the unease and fear that surrounded his heart, he could sense his brother's presence inside. Theo took an empty breath...
"Lumos."
...and disappeared in to the black.
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Post by Mosrael//Ranna on Sept 3, 2011 5:09:06 GMT -5
The final moves in her game were beginning, the pieces assembling on the board like chessmen. Now she would see if her strategies, her planning and mental acuity were enough to survive this. It was all part of the challenge, after all. And maybe in the course of the night's events she would finally unlock that final dooor, the only part of her thoughts that always eluded her. It was all she had to hope for anymore, that small piece of clarity, of sanity, in the midst of a mind twisted and betrayed to itself.
Alarm spells triggered at several points on the grounds, and Mosrael knew tonight must be her greatest performance. To fail would mean death.
"For you...Daniel..."
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Upon setting foot inside the castle, any intruder would find himself stepping on a portkey flagstone disguised in the floor. It deposited them in the extensive labyrinthine inner courtyard of the castle proper, layered with magical and physical traps; spells that would hinder and also that were designed to prey on the intruder's fears and paranoia.
Mosrael was waiting for Theodore when he stepped into the corridor that seemed to stretch on for eternity, when it actually turned left twelve meters ahead: a simple optical illusion.
Tonight Mosrael was wearing a costume of light-leeching black: black dress and corset-bodice, black gloves and high boots, and a sweeping midnight cloak that appeared to be made of smoke. Her mask was the same blood-red face she had worn during the attack on the Kameren house.
Black eyes and immobile face met his vision when the portkey finished its work. She stood unmoving in his way, no wand in her hand.
"Theodore. Is it time for you to carry out that threat you made? Think you can do it?" Then she was suddenly behind him, her voice catching at his neck and hair in an icy whisper. "And you think you're the only one with family to protect?" Her figure blurred and distorted, like a pebble thrown into a lake creates ripples. Only an illusion; a reflection of the Mistress of Masks.
"If you call, will Jack come?"
---------------------------------------------
[[this is assuming Curse/Alex enters the castle and thereby are ported]]
The portkey dropped the Kameren brothers into a similar long hallway, and at the far end was a small figure sitting on a chair. He was gagged and tied to the chair, but otherwise unharmed. His wide eyes focused on Curse and he tried to shout a warning, but only muffled sounds could be heard. There was nothing else in sight but Curse and Alex and Mosrael. She watched through dark eyes to see, not if they would detect the illusion of Max - she knew her enemy's abilities - but how they would react to it.
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Post by Theo Bowre on Sept 3, 2011 19:41:48 GMT -5
((Character Note: With Theo’s new celebrity claim came a new “snack-size” height of 5’9” – only mentioning this because it plays a part below. Plot Note: I’ve included September’s decrees in this post; hope that’s okay.))
Theo continued down an impossibly long “hall,” the light of his wand doing little to dispel the inky blackness that oppressed the surroundings and his being. He felt as though he had been walking forever; it was obvious to the beater after the first several minutes that the labyrinth had been spelled. The exterior of the ruins could not hold such a vast facility, and yet there was no foreseeable end (or beginning now) to his current position. The stone walls grew narrower and narrower the deeper Theo went. It was when they were within touching distance of either side of Bowre that he had his first encounter with the depth of Mosrael’s sadism.
”You let him die.”
The sensation of cool breath against the back of his neck caused Theo to come to a sudden halt; he spun awkwardly in the cramped space and drew his wand up, revealing the pale vestige of a familiar yet ghastly thin wizard who towered above him. What at first appeared as dark, sunken eyes became solid black orbs. The gaunt face was marked heavily with rich purple scars and muscles flexed taut beneath almost translucent skin. Theo was so shaken by the appearance of his friend that he dropped his wand. The figure almost glowed.
“Kameren? My God, Curse, what happened to Max?”
”You took my son away from me.”
“No, Curse. No! He can’t be dead! I didn’t know that he –“
”You let me die.” The voice of a child came from behind Curse’s illusion and almost instantly the face of Max appeared. Like his father, Max’s eyes were nothing but black. “You’re a traitor.”
“Uncle Theo lied to us.” Theo was met with a chill from behind and scrambled to turn around in the hallway. Specter-like images of his nieces and nephews appeared as a group. ”You said you’d protect everyone. You broke your vow. You’re a traitor.”
“No…Mum? Dad? I’m bringing Jack home, I -” His voice nearly broke as Ralph and Jean replaced the image of the children.
“You’re not Harkness pedigree. You’ve let us down and you’ve betrayed your family.”
“I’m sorry…Maebh.”
”You betrayed your friends.”
“Ralin, bauy, what happened to you?”
”You left me to die.”
“NO! Reece…”
”Traitor.”
“GET OUT OF MY HEAD!”
Black eyes bore through Bowre’s mind as friend upon friend, family member upon family member, appeared in the immediate space around him. Although he could see that the figures were nothing but illusions, their anger and sense of hurt was so tactile that Theo felt their presence with overwhelming intensity. The beater squeezed his eyes shut only to find his shoulder being touched. He turned with great dread.
”You know, in school I only paid attention to the spells I liked.” Reckony Pike smiled down on the smaller man, all warmth absent from his expression. Without warning, he brought his hands up to Theo’s head and pulled down, giving Bowre a ridiculous set of bunny ears. The barkeep grabbed the beater by the throat and threw him down violently upon a table. Theo was shocked to see that they were no longer in the castle ruins but in the empty ground floor of the Three Broomsticks. The amber light fought against his eyes, which had grown accustomed to the castle’s shadows, and he began to panic as Pike’s grip around his neck tightened. The bunny ears disappeared only to be replaced by hundreds of spiders, which crawled down the barkeep’s arms and on to Theo’s body. Theo started to convulse.
”Just like the old days, hey bauy. Remember when we used to wait for you behind the Quidditch pitch? Remember the FUN? Ahhhh, but then you grew up and learned how much fun it was to beat on people yourself. Only you don’t need a bludger, Theodore. You hurt everyone around you without even trying.”
Even despite his waning consciousness, Theo found himself distracted by a growing sound that began to reverberate within the pub walls. Glasses and picture frames shook from the bass and before long, it was apparent that the men were being bombarded with the screeching repetition of a cricket chirp. Pike smirked at the cacophony.
”I’ve being trying to get rid of that bastard for years, and the longer it hangs around, the more annoying it gets. Just like you. Can’t take the hint when it’s no longer wanted. Why are you so oblivious?” The barkeep continued to manhandle Bowre, finally pulling him off the table and wrapping his arms beneath the man’s armpits to clamp hands behind the beater’s head. Pike used his size to lift Theo off his feet, frog-marching Bowre to a lone door upon the back wall.
”This is your door, Theodore. This is your one option, given to you because of –your– choices. Don’t you ever forget that this was your doing.”
They were almost upon it when Theo finally found his voice. He spoke in a hoarse whisper, as much a result of an assaulted windpipe as fear.
“Why are you doing this to me,” he whimpered.
”I’m not doing it to you, Theodore…”
The beater suddenly felt the hands behind his neck grow almost skeletal and cold. The bulk of Reckony Pike decreased and Theo found himself hanging from a strong but wiry frame with familiar attire. It was no longer Pike but Kameren. Curse’s illusion was sinister.
”YOU’RE doing it to you.”
The door flew open and Theo felt himself being propelled forward…
* * * * * * * * * *
"Theodore. Is it time for you to carry out that threat you made? Think you can do it?”
In the centre of Mosrael’s inner courtyard, Bowre hung his head and locked eyes upon his boots. He was humiliated, ashamed, heart-broken; his insecurities had found their way to the surface in the most vulnerable of fashions and Mosrael, the Mistress of Masks, exploited it. In his head, Theo knew that the Dark Witch was using him against himself. In his heart, he knew that what she said was true.
“And you think you're the only one with family to protect?”
“Let him go,” Theo whispered.
”If you call, will Jack come?"
“GIVE ME MY BROTHER BACK!” Raw anger surged from the devastated man, his expression doing little to hide the pain within.
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Post by Alex Kameren on Sept 4, 2011 0:01:20 GMT -5
In the past few days the small core inside of Alex had grown from its previously small hot ball, the control of his emotions. It had spiked and grown larger, threatened to cloud his mind again with doubt. It had thrown out flares like the sun, this anger and betrayal and fear that he tried to keep locked tight.
He hadn’t been very stable since that night he had visited Cedric in his moldy prison, he had challenged his own life-long held beliefs, he had stripped away the longing that he’d clutched, the wish for things the be the way they were. Perhaps he had been a sheltered child, but his mother had loved him, and despite his words, even Cedric had for a time. They had been happy for a short time and Alex had always looked for that since, though he was too wary to accept it. And then he had found his family, Curse and then Max, and he found a foundation for his wandering, a family.
He had looked at the pitiful old man in Azkaban, and realized his own folly. But it was a hard lesson to learn, hard to undo a lifetime, and then Cedric had died. Right when Alex needed his family most, Mosrael decided to mess with it. He was not as powerful as his brother, and since his near-death he had sometimes stuttered or been unable to form words, and his magic was erratic and sometimes uncontrolled. But she had made the mistake.
He still owed her for fucking with Curse’s mind the first time. He ran a thumb over a long smooth scar on his arm, knowing Curse had an identical one. No, she chose the wrong wizards to mess with.
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Post by Minister Jack Harkness on Sept 4, 2011 0:27:09 GMT -5
“GIVE ME MY BROTHER BACK!”
The man that was Jack Harkness stood and watched the man scream and cry at specters that grew from his mind and fears. He watched with seeming dispassion as Mosrael appeared, tormenting, teasing. Her words stung him, a single tear traced down his face under the etched silver mask he wore. Ah, my brother. Always you wear your heart on your sleeve. It is your greatest quality. If only you could see yourself as others do.
The man who was not Jack Harkness looked out from that same silver mask and sneered, his distorted mouth redirecting the single drop of water that had run down his face. The man was weak, letting the Mistress distract him so. He was already broken, was already lost. How could he have expected to win, if he was already so vulnerable? He reached forward and touched the scene, it shifted to show the Kameren men, approaching the castle.
No, the Mistress couldn’t spare him yet. She couldn’t play her ace yet, the shock factor was one of her aces. No matter what they thought they knew, they still didn’t quite expect it, didn’t quite expect him. He changed the scene again, flipping past a group that approached another way, focusing back on Bowre.
--
"You don't deserve it."
He stood behind Theo, more real, more solid than the others. He was dressed casually, in a jersey sweater and jeans, looking younger than he had in years. His eyes sparkled with mirth, and children's laughter rose in the distance.
"You don't deserve it." His voice was insistent, as if trying to pass on some important meaning. Abruptly his tone changed, his expression altered sinisterly.
"You don't belong. You were always a pest, underfoot. That time you glued your fingers together. You should have glued your mouth shut while you were at it. I never cared. I used that card to start the fire for my morning tea."
Jack flickered, almost seeming benevolent again. He reached out a hand. "Theos. You don't deserve it."
((Aww. Ok. The second part is a not-real Jack to torment Theo. Have fun. ))
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Post by Echo Ashaelyr on Sept 5, 2011 1:29:34 GMT -5
Silently, another group approached the dark figure of the castle looming over the valley. Night was falling fast around them, and torches were being lit 'round the castle, making it come alive as a creature of stone and vine and flickering shadow.
Echo paused to gaze at the structure, feeling as though they were all being swept towards the darkness, the unknown, and there was nothing they could do to halt the oncoming storm. That stillness that hangs in the air before a storm breaks overhead, the waiting tension, it was all around them.
She looked down at her twisted arm, clenched the blackened fingers. Mosrael had already taunted her with her own worst fear. It was a close companion that walked next to her own shadow, something she was familiar with. But how would the others fare, if the Dark Witch threw them into their own nightmares?
Echo drew her sword, feeling her courage steady as the familiar weight settled in her hand. Being able to track and see better in the dark, they'd asked her to take point. As the Black Watch members followed her closely, Echo knew that the caution they carried in their footsteps was merely for their own comfort; Mosrael must know they were here.
Finally they reached the outer curtain wall where a sizable hole in the wall allowed them entrance. When Echo entered the outer courtyard a jet of red light hissed towards her. Only quick reflexes saved her from being stunned. More spells exploded towards them and Echo drew her own wand, charging at the nearest wizard while shooting off stunning spells. When she reached the Sentinel, a quick slash of her sword put him out of the battle for good.
"Quick, find some cover!" She shouted, dodging another spell and running towards its owner.
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Post by Curse Kameren on Sept 5, 2011 1:45:27 GMT -5
Curse's face was hardened stone as the two brothers came upon the castle. Whatever was going to happen, he was ready. This would push him further than he had ever gone in his abilities, he knew; Mosrael was powerful, but he was sure he could break her. He was calm, focussed. He knew what he needed to do, and how to do it. He was stronger, smarter. He hadn't been this way since the Dark Lady took over his mind. He was healed now, though, and knew how to keep her out. Now it was time to give back what she'd done to him.
The two brothers found a side door, molded over and almost cemented in place with age. The front door was too obvious; any auror knew the element of surprise was the most important in a Dark Magic battle. Though they didn't like to admit it, dark magic could often be more powerful, especially in battle. Curse had experienced this first hand. Aurors had to be strategic and know their craft well if they wanted to be successful. And Curse and Alex were the best.
As soon as they set foot inside the castle, however, everything shifted. Curse grabbed Alex by the arm, recognizing the feeling of a portkey as they spun. They ended up in a quiet, dark room. Then the lights came up, and Curse got to again experience the true sadism of Mosrael.
His son sat in a chair on the opposite end of the long hallway, bound and gagged. His look was urgent, pleading. He shouted a warning, his round eyes looking behind them. Part of him urged to turn his back and see what the warning was, but Curse's eyes stayed locked on his son. His breathing became ragged, his fear peaking before he could stifle it down. The fear enveloped him, but he set his jaw and crushed it. He was an auror. He would look into the face of danger and defeat it, whether or not it was his greatest fear. Curse spun on his heel and shot a killing curse directly through the chest of Mosrael.
This didn't make sense. Curse looked deep into the eyes of his torturer, and felt no pain. His curse went straight through her, as if she were a ghost. They had been transported directly to Mosrael and Max, something that the Masked Lady simply wouldn't do. This was wrong.
"An illusion," Curse took another step towards Mosrael, his hands still glowing a bright green, just in case. He examined her carefully, but suddenly stumbled back. His bad eye glazed over red, and he could suddenly feel the corresponding scars above and below his eye opening, dripping blood down his cheek. Next the diagonal scar across his face opened, his nose cracking at the bridge. His shirt soaked with blood as his other scars followed suit; he felt his dark pink poisoned blood dripping down his legs and arms.
"Alex. Alex," Curse looked urgently up at his brother, the blood gushing out of his scars only getting worse. He put his hands to the scars on his arms, trying to stem the flow of his magenta-colored blood. "I - I don't want to hurt you, stay back... It's an illusion, but I can feel it-" Curse wiped more forcefully at the blood, backing against the wall as his sealing charms failed him. He couldn't let Alex near him like this, it would kill him. But what if the blood wasn't real to Alex? Yet he felt it, hot and sticky on his skin as it dripped worse. He sank down against the wall, putting his head between his knees and closing his eyes. "This isn't real, it's only an illusion..."
"Kris." Curse shook his head, trying to deny the delusion as best he could. Her voice was soft, almost apologetic with an edge of accusation to it. How dare Mosrael use her. "Kris, get up..."
Arianna stood before him, looking just like she did the night they met. Her wide black eyes were dead inside, however. Like a doll's eyes, cold and lifeless. She held a bundle in her hands, wrapped in soft pink blankets. Tears streaked down his face as he looked up at the ceiling, over at Alex, anywhere he could without looking down at the bundle. Even if it was only an illusion, he couldn't do this. He of all people knew the damage illusions could do.
"Kris, you killed her. If you had been there, she would have lived." The baby in Arianna's hands was pure white, like snow. Like White Death. She only looked like she was sleeping...
"NO! THIS ISN'T REAL! ALEX!" Curse reached across the hall towards his brother and grabbed his hand, extending a fist towards the ceiling. The floorboards above them gave way and Curse propelled them upwards, levitating them to keep them from hitting the ground and falling back down into Hell. Curse breathed heavily, still trying to wipe away his imaginary blood as he met his brother's eyes. This was only the first mind game they would play with the Mistress of Masks, and Curse knew she may have others coming.
ooc: Hope that was alright, guys. Mosrael, I left their escape open for you, so you can direct us into what traps/parts of the castle they'll get into next. ^^
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Post by Siara Brightweather on Sept 5, 2011 2:00:07 GMT -5
Siara Brightweather followed Echo closely, her own hawk-senses attuned to the blackness of the forest surrounding the castle. The Headmistress of Hogwarts was here on behalf of the safety of the school and the children it shielded, especially one of its children that was in the clutches of the Dark Lady. Her golden eyes glittered fiercely as they entered the torchlight, and she heard the whisper of a spell ahead. About to warn Echo, Siara heard another spell to her right. She brought her wand up and blocked the petrifying spell easily, sending several incendio spells back along its path. Screams erupted from the shadows as firelight sprang up, but Siara didn't care. These people had threatened her students, and her friends.
"Everyone, do what Echo said!" Siara shouted, taking charge before the entire Black Watch could scatter in confusion. "Take cover!" Spinning on her feet, the tall woman conjured several iron blockades in front of the Watch members.
"INCENDIO DRACONIS!" It was a variation on the fire spell, one the spell-master had created as part of her final at Hogwarts. A dragon burst from the tip of her wand, entirely formed from fire. It swept towards the shadows where the cowardly Sentinels were hiding, its flaming wings sweeping them out into the open as they scurried away from the fire.
"Petrificus totalis! STUPEFY!" Spell after spell shot from Siara's wand as she dodged behind a blockade, popping up to zap the ones unlucky enough to be caught in the open.
Her senses once again alerted her to an incoming spell, one that descended on the Watch members crouched behind the blockades. A black and purple orb of some kind of spell energy shot towards them.
"PROTEGO HORRIBILIS!" The blue-white shield shimmered into place just in time to absorb the spell, and then shatter apart from the force of it. Tawny eyes glared in the direction it had been cast from.
Blood-red mask. Black hair and cloak.
The dark figure of Mosrael, standing on the wall above them, across the courtyard. Not an illusion.
"MOSRAEL!" Siara shouted, her voice rising like the cry of a hunting hawk. "Come down and fight me, coward!" The Headmistress raised her wand and cast an explosive spell at the Dark Witch. It slammed into the stonework and blew a sizable hole in it. When the dust cleared, there was no sign of Mosrael.
But Siara's attention on the Masked Lady would cost her.
An incendio spell hit her left arm, bursting into flames. She screamed and batted at the fire, finally managing to put it out with her wand. The smell of burned flesh and the white-hot pain sickened her, but she gritted her teeth and focused on the battle, quickly taking out the wizard who had shot her. Luckily it was her non-wand arm that had been hit, as she could hardly move it, keeping it pressed against her stomach to keep from shifting it.
"MOSRAEL!" Fury coursed through Siara's cry as she ducked behind the blockade again. "Is that all you can do, kidnap little boys and cast illusions? Why not fight face to face?!"
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Post by Ralin O'Faerlun on Sept 5, 2011 3:04:52 GMT -5
Ralin was afraid.
Not for himself; he was far too concerned about others to worry about his own safety. It was the fear that drove him on, forced him to ignore his own weaknesses, the protests of a battered body. Ralin had to get to the others.
They were his family. Being an orphan had one advantage; he got to pick his own family. And so it was his friends that made the majority of his family, and they were in the middle of the war. In Mosrael's path.
Worry twisted his gut, made him feel cold inside. Chills made goosebumps rise on his arms. Was it the fear, or a fever? He didn't pay attention. He was most worried about his brother. Where was Theo? He knew, somehow, that he would find Theo and Jack in the middle of everything. Salt had indicated as much.
The young man paused to catch his breath, taking another sip of the potion he'd bought in Diagon Alley. It was a temporary booster, something to give him strength and energy for a short while. He'd also purchased a wand, although it didn't fit him just right, he hadn't had time to find the right one. What he really wanted was his trusty raven-feather core wand, but he doubted he could even find the pieces.
Climbing to his feet with a painful groan, Ralin kept walking up the slope towards the castle. "Come on, just a bit further." He started talking aloud, trying to convince himself. "Theo will be fine, so will Jack. Then I can give Theo a hard time about missing the battle and..." the words choked in his throat. Try as he might to dismiss it, there was hurt hiding in his heart that Theo hadn't been there, hadn't been able to save Ralin from Mosrael's wrath.
"He had more important things to do...right? Like save Jack...he's family too. How could he have known? I sent him a patronus...didn't I? But maybe Jack matters more to him. Theo's a Harkness, they're all close family, real family. I'm just an orphan, maybe those bonds run deeper." His voice quavered. He didn't need Mosrael to unleash his own fears on himself. He was already doing it to himself. "And what if I do complain about it? He might think I always need him around to hold my hand. When I'm the one trying to protect him! And his family! Why do they all have to be so stubborn!" Realizing that his eyes were beginning to burn with tears of frustration and pain, the young man leaned against a tree and buried his face in his hands. "Snap out of it!" Ralin muttered angrily, his thoughts running in circles. "Just focus on getting there, doing whatever you can to save them..."
What would he find in the ruins above the valley? Would he be too late? Ralin had always been the one to try and keep his friends connected, united. And now he felt as though they were all slipping away from him. Curse. Nuri. Theo. Reck. Jack. Max... Names kept ringing in his thoughts, like the chimes of a mournful bell, like names read off of tombstones.
Despite the warnings of his body that he was pushing himself dangerously, Ralin started walking faster, almost running, stumbling through the undergrowth, all of his thoughts bent on reaching the battle ahead.
"Don't...leave me," he sent a plea on the chilly night wind. "I know it's selfish but I don't want to be alone. Everyone, just hang in there, please..."
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Post by Mosrael//Ranna on Sept 5, 2011 4:18:55 GMT -5
Mosrael orchestrated the illusions in the labyrinth, but she never entered it. She knew what the mirrors would do to her. But already those trapped inside were beginning to shatter the illusion. The closer they got, the more they would be able to hear the battle raging above their heads. The real battle; not an illusion.
The masked witch recalled yellow-gold eyes burning into her. The Headmistress of Hogwarts was a skilled spell-caster for certain, but if it was one thing that Mosrael despised, it was any leader of Hogwarts. Siara would be punished for her predecessors.
But first, Mosrael turned her attention on the man inside the cage of mirrors. Theo was battling his own demons, but he'd need to be strong, she wanted him to be strong, to fight through it. Or did she? For a moment her attention wavered. What was wrong with her? There were insipid little thoughts slipping into her mind, alien notions that disturbed her. What was awakening inside?
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Within the labyrinth, Theodore was suddenly surrounded by mirrors. Every one held his reflection prisoner, and many eyes gazed back at him. Measuring. Weighing.
"Who are you?" They whispered. "All you see is failure inside, lacking, weakness. Is that all you are? Who are you?"
Mosrael withdrew her mind briefly, puzzled. That was not the message she'd intended to send to him. She wanted to distract him, delay him.
The mirrors wavered and changed to show two faces staring past him. Faces of Nuri and Reece leaning on each other, weary and shocked.
She's unstoppable.
Curse, fury on his face, racing into his house. Was it all just an illusion, a reflection of the man's feelings towards Mosrael?
I'm going to kill her, Theo, before you can reach her.
An image from Mosrael's own eyes, her wand pointing at Ralin. Bloodied and afraid, but still trying to fight. A knife suddenly sprouting from his chest. Blood leaking from his mouth as he sank to his knees, eyes glazing over with shock.
Reckony cradling a still, broken form in his arms and crying out a silent name.
Some have already lost the war... They will not be coming back.
Fog surrounded Theo, erasing the images. The grey mists curled around him, embraced him.
Theodore, is this what you fight for, what the world see as a losing battle? A cause that is always scoffed at, derided, held as naught? Family...is it really all that important? Is it worth fighting for?
Those thoughts again. Mosrael was distracted now as she stamped down on the annoying, whispering voice deep inside. Satisfied that it was gone again, she returned her mind to the labyrinth.
---------------------------------
If Curse and Alex were expecting another vision of horror, they were caught by surprise when they stepped into a room, and suddenly they were at home.
The Kameren house was intact, just as it had been before the battle. Sunlight filtered in through the windows. Max walked in from the den carrying his latest invention and when he saw the two brothers, his face brightened.
"Dad! Uncle Alex! Hey mum's been looking for you, did you bring the turkey?"
Arianna came in and walked over to Curse, putting her arms around his tall frame and kissing him warmly. "Hey hon, welcome home. We're almost ready, but if you'll let me take that turkey off your hands, we can get it cooking. How was work? Oh Alex, Elle arrived an hour ago." She winked. "She can't stop talking about the ring you got her. It is beautiful, Alex. Nice choice."
Just then a little girl with bright eyes the same color as Arianna walked in, her brown locks bouncing around her face.
"Daddy! You're home!" She squealed with delight, her arms latching around his leg.
"Are you two just going to stand there?" Arianna said, her eyes sparkling. "Come on," she took Curse's hand in her own and tugged him towards the living room. "It's time you relaxed after a long day's work. You can help me make the pie."
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Post by Alex Kameren on Sept 5, 2011 14:53:05 GMT -5
"Alex. Alex,"
"This isn't real, it's only an illusion..."
Alex’s eyes met Curse’s, trying to reassure the man. He didn’t know if he was getting through, after Mosrael had disappeared like mist on a breeze, Curse had started stumbling, falling against the wall and babbling. He took a step to shake his brother out and back into reality, but in the space of that step Max disappeared and he was surrounded by Curses, all muttering in unison.
“It’s not real…” His voice faded as he hesitated, unsure which one was the real Curse. Who was flesh and bone and who was shadow?
"NO! THIS ISN'T REAL! ALEX!"
Suddenly they all lunged at him, Alex lifting his wand reflexively as dozens of images of his brother dived at him, arms out. He breathed hard, adrenaline pumping as he still worked to find the real Curse, and then a hand closed around his and they shot towards the ceiling.
They stood in a circular room lined with doors, and Alex led the way, opening the one closest and walking inside.
---
As they stepped into the house, Alex sighed, pulling off his cloak. He hung it on one of the coat hooks that hung behind the door in the short entranceway. He clapped Curse on the shoulder tiredly as they entered the dining room, meeting Max. He held a contraption that looked vaguely like a dragon, half-formed yet as it struggled to escape enclosing fingers.
He smiled as Ari entered, slipping the turkey from Curse’s hand so he could greet his wife. “Hey Max. What’s that?” He asked as he sidled past his brother and Ari and headed towards the kitchen with the bird.
“Oh Alex, Elle arrived an hour ago." She winked. "She can't stop talking about the ring you got her. It is beautiful, Alex. Nice choice."
Alex laughed and made some noncommittal comment about the ring, reaching out to tousle the girl’s brown curls as they passed. He was midstep when it all fractured for him, white cracks appearing and shattering the happy scene as derisive words mocked him. Elle was in the kitchen doorway, her hand out, but her face splintered and shattered into a hundred shards of light as he fell.
You’re not worthy. We don’t want you. You were a mistake.
He recognized the faces around him. The man, barely reaching his chest but with an erect bearing and demanding face, was his great grandfather Black. The witch, stiffly dressed in old-fashioned black, was his aunt, his father’s sister. An younger sister who had died young, but still demanding as ever in her portrait. They crowded him, witches and wizards from all eras of the Kameren family.
“I could have had you die in some sort of horrible accident, leave a real Kameren to head the bloodline."
Could have. Should have. They chanted, closing in, touching, pulling at him. He staggered, loosing his balance, he struck out at the leering faces, trying to reach his father. He’d show them, he would, he was a Kameren, he was strong. Pure magic flowed in his veins.
“You should have died that night.” Cedric mocked, standing in a pool of Alex’s blood, leaning down and glaring over Curse’s shoulder. The paltry light of Knockturn gave his emaciated face eerie lines. “Disgrace….” He hissed as Curse took his own strength to keep Alex alive. “Should have died, you’re a disgrace, who would want you? He doesn’t. She doesn’t. I don’t. Your mother never wanted you.”
Alex felt disjointed, floating in his own blood he couldn’t feel his limbs as tears ran down his face-- from fear or anger, sadness or terror, he couldn’t tell.
“STOP IT.” He screamed, flailing in an effort to get up, stand on his feet, confront his father the only way he knew how. Curse shimmered and shredded like smoke as Alex’s fists tore through him. Cedric only laughed and faded away.
No true Kameren….
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Post by Curse Kameren on Sept 5, 2011 20:17:46 GMT -5
This wasn't home.
As soon as Curse and Alex set foot in the second illusion, the magic was broken for him; there were just little things, things that didn't really matter. The carpet was just slightly the wrong color, and the stains from food and Max's various projects were gone. Sunlight came in through windows that usually had curtains. Small, strange things. This wasn't his home. Mosrael made a mistake in trying to create an illusion for him; his mind had changed since she had been inside it, she didn't know him as well as she thought she did.
"Dad! Uncle Alex! Hey mum's been looking for you, did you bring the turkey?"
Wrong. Max either called Alex simply Alex, or Uncle Al. Never Uncle Alex. If Amelia was cooking in his kitchen, this illusion would be completely surreal. If Max was referring to Arianna as mum, this was also wrong. He wouldn't do that to Amelia. The boy was very perceptive of both parents, and knew how Amelia felt about Arianna's relationship with Curse.
"Hey hon, welcome home. We're almost ready, but if you'll let me take that turkey off your hands, we can get it cooking. How was work?"
Curse shied away as Arianna embraced him, not kissing her back when she kissed him. This wasn't Arianna, either. Part of what he loved about living with her was coming home to find his ink-stained fiance buried under a pile of parchment. She wasn't a doting housewife, and he liked that. Sure, she had her moments of it, but there was something about this that was just... off.
"Oh Alex, Elle arrived an hour ago." Curse turned to his brother, arching a brow. Elle? Elle Callahan? As in his doctor? Merlin, did he have some kind of naughty nurse fantasy or something? "She can't stop talking about the ring you got her. It is beautiful, Alex. Nice choice."
"For Merlin's sake, Alex, stop it." Curse looked at his brother as he played along with the scene, smiling and laughing at Arianna's comments. Come on now, they both knew Alex wasn't that friendly with Arianna any longer.
"Daddy! You're home!" Curse's eyes widened with shock as what he assumed was supposed to be Ashlynn wrapped herself around his leg. But she was the wrong age, he could tell just by looking at her. Mosrael was trying to scare him with something she didn't understand. She wasn't a parent, she didn't have a family. How could she mold a family life for him if she had never experienced one?
"It's time you relaxed after a long day's work. You can help me make the pie."
Curse just laughed at this pretend-Arianna. Merlin forbid the day ever come that Arianna ask him to cook with her. He would burn the house down. At least, the parts of the house Mosrael hadn't already scorched. "Enough, Ranna! This didn't work when you had control over my mind, it isn't working now." Curse's eyes examined the room around them, trying to find the flaw in her spell, the place where he could unravel her sorcery.
“STOP IT.”
Curse turned around to face the screaming Alex, who was on the floor trying to fight his invisible enemy. Curse knelt next to him, dodging his fists as he lashed out. He caught his brother's hands, sticking them together with a small binding charm and meeting his brother's eyes. "Alex. Stop. We don't have the time or energy to give into her illusions. She has Max, I need you to back me up or we'll never get out." He helped his brother up, unbinding his wrists and looking around them for a way out. "Look for what's wrong, the things that are off. You'll know it's fake. That'll keep you sane." Curse spoke with experience, his green eyes finally falling on something. A mask, laid carelessly on his bookshelf in the living room. Curse quickly crossed over to it, looking at Alex before the two touched it at the same time, and disappeared.
The portkey brought them back to reality, into a different room. It was dark, and if Curse was feeling correctly, it appeared they had transported to the middle of a staircase. Curse could hear spellfire outside. "The Watch is here," He said, standing up and dusting himself off as he looked around. "We better hurry up. If the Sentinels take them down we might not stand a chance."
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Post by Maebh Breandan on Sept 5, 2011 21:38:39 GMT -5
Everything was happening so quickly. One minute Maebh was on assignment, studying the criminal element, the next she was in St. Mungos and then the next in the ministry. When was it all going to stop? A castle loomed in the distance as Maebh followed the rest out of the forest. Eyes open, she scanned the field, ignoring the twinges in her shoulder. It was entirely healed but it was enough. Ralin was in worse shape. Brown eyes glanced to the young werewolf.
I will look after you, lucky one, she thought just before the first spells were fired. Theo would never forgive her if something happened to Ralin and she was nearby. In that regard he was similar to Reckony. Maebh instinctively moved closer to her lover, wanting to protect him. The man was brute strength but spells had never been his forte and it might just be his downfall.
How did this all happen and why? What was the point of fighting. Why did someone always want to hurt another human being? Why must pain exist? It was all lost of Maebh. she wasn't a thinker. Not really. Knife in wand hand, wand in the other, Maebh threw spell after spell at the Sentinels. Ducking behind an edge of a wall, she paused to look for Ralin. Nothing. No glimpse of a shiny red head or toothy grin. Wait...there he was, on the hill, heading towards the castle. The boy was stumbling yet running. Fool. He was going to get himself killed. Maebh left Reck's side to follow after Ralin, making sure his back was covered. The fool was probably going to find Theo and Jack. If it was true and Jack truly was in line with Moseral then Theo would be there. When Curse found them he would kill them. Maebh didn't blame Curse but she doubted he had all the pieces of information and really, theo should be innocent until proven guilty. Maebh was determined to be there and ensure that Curse Kameren didn't do anything rash and kill the man before everything was uncovered.
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Post by Theo Bowre on Sept 6, 2011 1:42:29 GMT -5
"You don't deserve it."
A red-eyed Theo slowly turned in place, looking over his shoulder as if expecting another taunt from the Mistress of Masks. His expression was one of great apathy, as though the dark witch could not do or say anything else that would hurt him further; but upon making eye contact with the figure behind him, Theo froze. His tightly-clenched fists dropped open.
“Jack.”
Theo’s eyes bore in to the other man’s, analyzing, searching. Although he took some immediate relief in the fact that “Jack” was free of the empty gaze that marked all of his previous encounters, he shuddered at the fakeness that seemed to enwrap his older brother: the youth, the humor, the happiness. It was Jack in another lifetime. Or a brother he’d already lost to the darkness. Was he willingly in league with Mosrael? Did she pay him in happiness?
“I don’t deserve you at all, Jackie, or I don’t deserve you back?” Theo challenged the man before him, uncertain whether he could handle an honest answer. He hid his doubts with defiance. “Where are you really hiding? I know this isn’t real. Why don’t you come on out and face me? Or are you her new favourite doll?”
"You don't deserve it."
The slight infliction on the statement caused the beater to subconsciously tilt his head, like he was a cat trying to make sense of an observation. The insistence in Jack’s voice was enough to halt Theo’s questions - Oh my God, you're there.. For a brief moment, he considered that it was his brother playing Mosrael and that Jack - his Jack - was sending a message from behind the mask. He was there. But Theo had little time to consider it further. Jack’s presence quickly seesawed between benevolent and volatile.
"You don't belong. You were always a pest, underfoot. That time you glued your fingers together. You should have glued your mouth shut while you were at it. I never cared. I used that card to start the fire for my morning tea…Theos. You don't deserve it."
There it was again. He couldn't let Mosrael see that he caught it.
Jack’s hand reached out, but Theo flinched out of reach. His expression grew cold.
“Maybe you didn’t hear me. I’ve come for my brother. Take your puppet and shove it.”
As if in response, Theo was suddenly surrounded by mirrors and endless faces. He was startled backwards in to a pane of reflective glass. The impact caused him to jump.
"Who are you? All you see is failure inside, lacking, weakness. Is that all you are? Who are you?"
“What?” Bowre was left stymied. Dulcet-toned voices questioned his insecurities; the bile of malice that accompanied Mosrael's previous traps was replaced by the gentleness of understanding. It was a reversal of strategy: a good cop/bad cop situation whereby he left the gauntlet of judgment and entered an arena of therapy. What was the witch doing now?
Theo had little opportunity to question Mosrael’s intentions. As if turned on by a light switch, the feeling of failure suddenly returned at a terminal magnitude, becoming as much a physical assault as an emotional one. Guilt and despair raged around and within the man; he felt the sensation of standing accused in the middle of a fervent trial. Loved ones admonished from every mirror face. Voices collided. Theo fell to his knees beneath the weight of their indictment.
She's unstoppable.
I'm going to kill her, Theo, before you can reach her.
Theo felt the voices of Nuri, Reece and Curse upon him, but it wasn’t until the mirrors played the events of Ralin’s attack at Godric’s Hollow that he managed to look at the evidence laid before him. Blood poured from his adopted brother’s mouth and the illusion of Ralin’s body fell in to the space before him. Theo was frozen, unable to move. He watched helplessly as Reckony Pike cradled a deceased Ralin in his arms. Theo shouted out in horror, his body ragged with sobs at the realization that he had lost and failed his greatest friend. His mind raced to the Daily Prophet article that Ryan had shared with him, the names of those lost in the attack were unwritten. But here in front of him, Theo’s worst fears were confirmed. He felt the last sliver of his soul slip away as his shaking figure was devoured in a fog.
Some have already lost the war... They will not be coming back. Theodore, is this what you fight for, what the world see as a losing battle? A cause that is always scoffed at, derided, held as naught? Family...is it really all that important? Is it worth fighting for?
The thunder of exploding rock and spell-fire broke through the fading voices, allowing reality to slowly seep in to the labyrinth. The mirrors disappeared as the actuality of the surroundings came in to focus: these were the ruins of Mosrael’s castle and within them a brother was missing. Theo rose to his feet, numbed by loss but pushed by love. The war was raging closer - it was nearly upon them - and Jack was bound to get caught in the crossfire. He spotted his driftwood wand on the floor and reached down for it.
“Family’s worth everything. It’s especially worth dying for.”
Theo stood at attention before the might of Mosrael, leveling his wand at the physically absent mastermind. But instead of making any threat towards the dark empress or engaging in any semblance of his own attack, Theo placed himself in front of the figure of his brother and turned towards the entrance, waiting for whoever should enter. Jack's life was threatened on two fronts and only one of them he had any chance of defending. He prayed his brother had the strength to face the other.
Theo spoke softly to Jack, appealing to the last remnants of the man he loved as blood.
“If you can hold on to any reality, Jack, let it be us. Let it be family. You won’t be alone, not even for a second. I love you…Please don’t wait until the end to figure that out.”
Theo heard a noise at the wall.
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