(Untitled)

Oct 06, 2007 21:11

Who? Amycus Carrow, Sirius Black and James Potter the Elder
What? You really shouldn't dare a sociopath to try and break you. Sirius will remember that eventually.
Why? Because Carrow is an evil bitch and those Marauders are just begging to be played with?
When? Now.
Title: Kinda I want to.
Rating: Hard R for violence and torture.
Author's notes: ( Read more... )

amycus carrow, sirius black, james potter, after 19 years later, fic, roleplay

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amycus_carrow October 7 2007, 06:56:18 UTC
"Am I now?" He was grinning again. Oh how he liked to see the madness creep up. It was more fun to play with a rabid dog than a house trained pup. Keep poking it and kicking it until it's fury surfaced.

"You aren't looking so good. I do believe you won't win Witch's Weekly best smile this year. Too bad."

He stepped back and took another look at what he had coaxed out of his captive. Vomit, blood, insanity, it was quite the combination. He really did enjoy his work.

"I heard the chosen one lost a bit of his edge. Went a bit around the twist if you know what I mean. Couple days with Bella could do it to the best of sorts. Always thought he snapped long before his walk in the forest. Too much death. Too many people who died in his place. But!" The but was said with enthusasim. His eyes twinkled as he debated if he should use a quick spell to clean Black up. Nah, let him sit in it. Let Potter witness it. "But he got the lot of you back. I'm sure this little walk through our memories won't phase a bit. It's not like he has issues with you and his father dying. Again."

With that, he turned and walked out. Content to leave Black chained up and contemplating his next round with Carrow. This time they would have a guest.

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bigbadpadfoot October 7 2007, 07:04:03 UTC
Sirius waited until Carrow had walked away to close his eyes and finally allow himself a deep breath to calm his mind. Carrow seemed to like pushing him to the edge and it worked to give him what he wanted, to an extent, because then he didn't have to work so hard for it.

He wiggled his jaw around to assure it wasn't broken or dislocated and was glad to find that it wasn't. A glance down at his ribs showed the slices in his skin that would only bleed if he expanded his chest too much. His head was swimming and his vision was beginning to blur...but he fought the urge to fall asleep because he worried he wouldn't wake up the next time.

Eventually though he managed to wriggle his way to a position to rest his head against the wall and close his eyes, trying desperately to rest. They had to break you in more ways than one to get you to give in, and physically, he would not.

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