[video : accidental]
[The Forge flicks on, and not a moment later a black band shoots past it, black like ink except when it hits the ground it doesn’t splatter, but rather pierces straight through stone.
Follow the path of that band and it leads back to the head of a girl who looks harmless, unless you notice that several other clumps of her hair have grown to ( Read more... )
Follow the path of that band and it leads back to the head of a girl who looks harmless, unless you notice that several other clumps of her hair have grown to ( Read more... )
Comments 6
But there is guilt. And there is anger. If Iolanthe is dead, it's Deneve's fault. She talked the other woman into joining the fight but she wasn't there to back her up. To stop her from getting into a confrontation with Riful in the first place. She should have been there.]
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Actually, that's not true. One rarely knows exactly. Few wizards have the mapping memory skills for that, especially over long distances. But one can Apparate to a place one couldn't necessarily find their way to walking, as long as the idea of the destination is vivid and decisive.
Indecision or misimagining is what can lead to splinching.
So when Lupin saw this post and ran out from the Clinic, with that lightning loping run only those who knew about Moony could reconcile, and got past the wards (the ones he'd installed but were now blocking him from Disapparating himself), there was a millisecond's hesitation. Tonks had gone missing. Io was in trouble. How could he choose-?
He Disapparated anyway. He'd already made the choice. The world reassembled itself around him into the setting he'd seen over Io's forge.
What he hadn't taken into account-and given how many life-or-death things he'd been juggling in one brain for the past few days, ( ... )
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On the down side: If he were she wouldn't be awkwardly sitting here amidst the rubble after having gently pulled him out from under it.
She'd dug herself out moments before, after the hail of those damnable ribbons had stopped, to find Riful gone and Remus in her place. Her first reaction was panic - scrambling over stone and loosed rock - lifting the bits of it away from him, cursing him silently as she checked for breath.
What could she have done if he hadn't been breathing? Nothing.
Irritation as she'd dragged him, propped him up into an ungrateful (yet somehow relieved?) embrace because she couldn't just leave him here.]
Foolish.
[Muttering, sighing as she lightly taps at his cheek. Remus, is she really going to have to carry you back to safety?. Why are you even here? Everything is muddled.
Fighting had brought more clarity than this.]
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Well, he's woken up in her arms before, but not on top of an ex-building/rubble heap, covered in dust. And the way his hand stops on its own accord, not running under her hair to pull her head down into a kiss-ah, no, it all really happened.
One option right now is heartache. So he submits full willingly to the other option: sheepish irony.]
I came to help you.
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Has this sort of help worked before?
[It's almost a smile, and she shakes the dust from her hair, frowns and brushes it off his chest.]
You're late. I'm fine.
[Turning just a bit. Is that ...growling in the not so distant distance?]
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