[It all happens so fast that reacting is impossible. One moment she is chiming those strange notes he's heard before, the next moment is fire and agony.
The fire, his brain decides with a foggy detachment, is the primary threat. So he jerks away in a panic. He smells burning hair and skin, and he knows the sound that isn't dragonsong is him screaming.
There's another noise too. A slick wet popping sound like twisting a undercooked wishbone. The pain is sharp and terrible and not nearly as clean as a blade taking his arm from the shoulder would be. But her strength is so overwhelming that it's effortless. So fast that he doesn't, at first, feel it.
He reels back, his feet tangling and hitting the floor with a grunt. Put out the flame he has to put that out first or it will spread and stick like he knows her fire does. So he rolls frantically, his skin screaming at the rough Potion's Room floor scraping his exposed nerves. But it works- he lays there smoldering and quickly soaking in his own gushing blood.
Don't pass out don't pass out...
But his vision is darkening quickly, he lays there gasping like a fish, trying to reach for his magic, his spells circle sputtering off and on as his concentration breaks apart.]
cw for all of the above, eye squick, drowning imagery, u name it
But that's not how her voice sounds. And even if she tries, no words come out of her mouth. She still can't see, as if someone had shielded her view with their hand but she can move. Just barely. She struggles to try and sit up but her body won't cooperate and more of those eerie strings of melody are coming out in place of words. Even so, the cadence of the song makes it clear she's trying to say his name.
But then something changes. It's like being pushed under cool, dark water and letting it fill her mouth and lungs. That voice that is and isn't hers singsongs little fledgling, little fledgling, go back to sleep and she feels her body move of its own accord.
On the table, she sits up with an eerily smooth and easy movement. Her head is tilted back as if scenting the air then it turns to find Hubert. The rose in her eye is still there – if anything, it's grown even more, bulging out of her eyesocket. Her remaining eye is glassy and the pupil is slitted like a cat.
[The dark edges were pushing in deeper, his head lolling back on his neck. So this was it. He was finally going to die. He had given into his sentimentality and tried to save Bryn instead of quietly slitting her throat on the table as he should.
Well, by now he had expected it. This beast with her face would devour him, and he at least hoped he would bleed out before-
And you will leave every one of your charges to die, coward.
-his father's voice rings through his head like a slap.
Get up, Hugh. NOW!
He groans, biting his lip hard enough to bleed, cutting into his foggy mind with a new pain. The focus is just enough for his spell circle to become more solid. Still wavering but there. MAYBE a Luna would be enough to stop her, but if it wasn't enough such a strong spell would drain him completely. No, he has to... has to... lead her away.
With a 'pop' of rushing air and purple magic he is gone, leaving a pool of blood and his fucking arm behind.
He doesn't get nearly as far as he had hoped- his Warp was already crippled by the wards of this place, but even so at best he is outside the room. Another hop. Another. The trail of blood is strange, looking more like pools of gore were simple dabbed there by an amused god rather than someone actually dragging themselves away. He reaches the stairs:
If you go down you will lead her right to them. Up, as far away as possible and hold your ground. If anyone is patrolling the sound will bring them to you.
Wise enough words. He struggles to his feet, only willpower keeping him going. He can't warp again, he's too exhausted. So he will have to walk it.
All. The way. Up.
Praying he gave himself enough space with his magic that she won't catch up instantly he makes his way up. Step by agonizing step. By the time he reaches the Solarium there is nothing left, and he hits the ground with a weak cry.]
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the cws just keep going
The fire, his brain decides with a foggy detachment, is the primary threat. So he jerks away in a panic. He smells burning hair and skin, and he knows the sound that isn't dragonsong is him screaming.
There's another noise too. A slick wet popping sound like twisting a undercooked wishbone. The pain is sharp and terrible and not nearly as clean as a blade taking his arm from the shoulder would be. But her strength is so overwhelming that it's effortless. So fast that he doesn't, at first, feel it.
He reels back, his feet tangling and hitting the floor with a grunt. Put out the flame he has to put that out first or it will spread and stick like he knows her fire does. So he rolls frantically, his skin screaming at the rough Potion's Room floor scraping his exposed nerves. But it works- he lays there smoldering and quickly soaking in his own gushing blood.
Don't pass out don't pass out...
But his vision is darkening quickly, he lays there gasping like a fish, trying to reach for his magic, his spells circle sputtering off and on as his concentration breaks apart.]
cw for all of the above, eye squick, drowning imagery, u name it
At first, she wonders if it might be her.
But that's not how her voice sounds. And even if she tries, no words come out of her mouth. She still can't see, as if someone had shielded her view with their hand but she can move. Just barely. She struggles to try and sit up but her body won't cooperate and more of those eerie strings of melody are coming out in place of words. Even so, the cadence of the song makes it clear she's trying to say his name.
But then something changes. It's like being pushed under cool, dark water and letting it fill her mouth and lungs. That voice that is and isn't hers singsongs little fledgling, little fledgling, go back to sleep and she feels her body move of its own accord.
On the table, she sits up with an eerily smooth and easy movement. Her head is tilted back as if scenting the air then it turns to find Hubert. The rose in her eye is still there – if anything, it's grown even more, bulging out of her eyesocket. Her remaining eye is glassy and the pupil is slitted like a cat.
Or a beast. ]
no subject
Well, by now he had expected it. This beast with her face would devour him, and he at least hoped he would bleed out before-
And you will leave every one of your charges to die, coward.
-his father's voice rings through his head like a slap.
Get up, Hugh. NOW!
He groans, biting his lip hard enough to bleed, cutting into his foggy mind with a new pain. The focus is just enough for his spell circle to become more solid. Still wavering but there. MAYBE a Luna would be enough to stop her, but if it wasn't enough such a strong spell would drain him completely. No, he has to... has to... lead her away.
With a 'pop' of rushing air and purple magic he is gone, leaving a pool of blood and his fucking arm behind.
He doesn't get nearly as far as he had hoped- his Warp was already crippled by the wards of this place, but even so at best he is outside the room. Another hop. Another. The trail of blood is strange, looking more like pools of gore were simple dabbed there by an amused god rather than someone actually dragging themselves away. He reaches the stairs:
If you go down you will lead her right to them. Up, as far away as possible and hold your ground. If anyone is patrolling the sound will bring them to you.
Wise enough words. He struggles to his feet, only willpower keeping him going. He can't warp again, he's too exhausted. So he will have to walk it.
All. The way. Up.
Praying he gave himself enough space with his magic that she won't catch up instantly he makes his way up. Step by agonizing step. By the time he reaches the Solarium there is nothing left, and he hits the ground with a weak cry.]