Fighting a fire with your bare hands
~ Out on the street in one of London's most grime-coated districts, no muggle is any the wiser as two figures materialise out of thin air back in an alleyway. They're small, practically children, but white lifeless masks are the only things visible in the shadows, the rest of their bodies are engulfed in black robes that move like smoke and could be hiding anything under them. Here, where everyone keeps their nose to their own business, no one wants to get involved with anyone who would dress like that.
It's dark now, how long the fight had gone on in the Auror Academy isn't clear but they'd been in there long enough for the sun to set. A sickly yellow street lamp doesn't even permeate the alley, just glints dully off the many dustbins that clutter the sides and makes the rain-slick bricks underfoot gleam like oil.
Regulus's hand still clutches Barty's arm. His desperate side-along apparation out from under Crouch Sr.'s nose seems to have worked, no one appears Splinched and, most importantly, Barty is here and alive. That is the only thing in Regulus' mind as he catches his breath amid the bins, just listening to Barty's wheezing breathing from behind his mask. ~
It's dark now, how long the fight had gone on in the Auror Academy isn't clear but they'd been in there long enough for the sun to set. A sickly yellow street lamp doesn't even permeate the alley, just glints dully off the many dustbins that clutter the sides and makes the rain-slick bricks underfoot gleam like oil.
Regulus's hand still clutches Barty's arm. His desperate side-along apparation out from under Crouch Sr.'s nose seems to have worked, no one appears Splinched and, most importantly, Barty is here and alive. That is the only thing in Regulus' mind as he catches his breath amid the bins, just listening to Barty's wheezing breathing from behind his mask. ~