`` hell's ditch . . . [eva]

[lancelot conall callaghan]

PROF. L. C. CALLAGHAN____

He strolled along casually, eyes turned upwards amongst the stars rather than paying particular attention to where his feet were taking him, content to allow them to wander where they may. He swung the silver chain lead idly back and forth in his hand, the lazy motion in rhythm with his steps out of sheer subconscious nature and perpetuated by its own weight instilled momentum. Up ahead somewhere Mordecai barked playfully and snuffled about through the crisp fallen leaves, chasing whatever small rodent he had flushed from its hiding place with an excited yip and dive into a large, wind-created pile of the wilted organic matter – contenting himself to play with the leaves rather than admit defeat to the small animal that had escaped his vision. Lance smiled as he imagined this scene, the evening an inky black already and lit only by a low slung moon, rendering the canine out of the man’s gaze when combined with the intricacies of the tree trunks he was walking amongst.

His breath puffed out in tenuous white clouds, condensing on the cold November air as it left his lips. He snuggled his stubbled chin down further into the thick scarf that was carefully knotted about his throat, immediately finding appreciation for the extra warmth that was bestowed upon his lower face and breathing another haze through the brightly striped material and watching the tendrils evanesce into the air for a moment. He was content in such a simple task, everything seemed easy and relaxed for the time being: he was settling nicely into the routine of his job (though he vaguely wondered if he would ever adjust to 7am starts), had a continuum of friends amongst the staff and students, and had that morning received a letter from his parents with happy news of his brother Eoghan’s engagement – it was as if all weight had been lifted from him and he was simply floating along. A trouble-free smile had formed upon his face, brow not creased with the familiar look of worry that had become customary to his expression, and he found himself appreciating all the little details of the grounds around him. He had perhaps ventured further than he had meant to, but dinner was still a way away and he was not required to be any particular place that evening besides it, so he saw no harm in having reached the boundary trees that encircled the Black Lake and simply continuing onwards – he would turn back when hunger got the better of him or it looked like the puppy was flagging.

Mordecai raced back towards him at full pelt, tongue lolling from his mouth, stumbling over his still over-large paws but managing to right himself without a fall – casually slowing himself to a trot as if the whole motion had been entirely purposeful. His big brown eyes turned up towards Lance’s, tail wagging behind him as he circled and fell into step beside the flying professor. And for a short time the only sound that they encountered was the crunching of leaves and branches beneath their respective feet, though neither appeared to mind this at first Mordy began to grow restless and let out a short bark with play once again on his mind. “Alright alright...” Lance grinned, removing a ball from his pocket and throwing it with gusto along the natural path that formed amongst the old trees – the Great Dane accelerating with surprising speed, yet unsurprising enthusiasm, after the luminous yellow object. But rather than being greeted with the happy yips that usually accompanied Mordecai’s retrieval of an object, a troubling sound reached Lance’s ears – a whine and yelp, followed quickly by a flurry of scrabbling pawfalls.

He glanced back and forth beyond the hastily enlarging form to see what the cause of the commotion was, a smirk of curio on his lips now and a slight shake of his head at the dog’s actions, “Wha’ddyah see y’nutcase?” he laughed a little under his breath, eyes continuing to scan for the offending creature or object that had spooked the puppy, “Somethin’ bigger than you, yeah? Gonna have t’get used to that f’r a while at least...” he commented to the dog, who was furtively looking up ahead from behind Lance’s legs as he continued on, a whimper still about his maw and tail tucked firmly between his legs. This cast a little more aspersion on the man’s initial reading of the situation, a young dog should be frightened of new things yes, but equally he should be curious about them – this reaction was not to something so normal as a rogue fox or deer.

Lance paused then, shoving his hands into his pockets and listening, fingers instinctively clutching around the handle of his wand for a bit of security as he again looked down at the cowering Great Dane before returning his eyes to scan the trees surrounding them. “Hello?” he enquired dumbly, hoping that if there was a person there then they would reveal themselves or if it was an animal it may have been scared off. But there was no revelation. With a final look cast across the frosty scene, he turned on heel, “Come on then, y’wanna go home, we’ll go home...” he motioned with his head back towards the Castle, dismissing whatever it had been that Mordy had reacted to as trivial as he started to walk with hands in pockets and a heavier outlook on the evening ahead despite his best efforts. Mordecai continued to whimper, his fast trot causing a stalling motion to his walk as he continually drew ahead of Lance and had to hang back to fall into step with him again.

Behind them, something shifted in the darkness; something large, yet subtly graceful in its movements. The Great Dane bolted with a whine, taking off as fast as his awkwardly large paws could carry him towards the castle and the safety that he associated with it. “Mordy!” Lance shouted in commanding tones, frowning at the dog’s apparent stupidity. He dismissed him with a wave of his hand, but picked up his pace anyways, hoping to provide a beacon for the puppy should he decide to get himself lost along the road. But as he shifted his pace up a gear so did whatever it was behind him – not that he realised this, his ears oblivious to the gentle footfalls and his mind concentrated on his pet and getting in out of the cold.

And then it pounced, a snarling shape hurtling through the air that gave Lance no time to even turn around – the mass colliding with his back and knocking him into the leaf litter with an almighty crash and an all-too warm feeling across his back. The stench filled his nostrils as he attempted to flip over beneath the writhing creature, a task made all the more difficult by the claws that slashed away at him, trying to get through the many layers of clothing that he had wrapped himself up in. His mind whirred, eyes attempted to discern what the dark shape was through his raised arms which protected his face – to give him some clue of how to beat or escape the creature – though something in the pit of his stomach told him that he already knew what he was facing. With such a revelation something in his mind snapped and he tried to apparate away; rescuing himself from his attacker, which he had a horrible feeling was a creature with which he had already had two more run-ins than was healthy for an individual. But he couldn’t. He cursed, continuing to struggle, kicking at the Werewolf’s belly with his hands up trying to hold the gnashing jaws apart to prevent a bite – gashes and wounds he could get healed, a bite he could not.

A pause from the creature, a slight drawing back to remove itself from the man’s grasp, Lance’s arms not long enough to continue to hold on – and not particularly willing to even if he had been able to, the man preferring instead to shuffle back as far as he could in the sitting position that he pulled himself to. His breathing was heavy and his limbs bloodied, the moment’s respite over as the creature thrust forwards again an almost mocking laugh on its breath. This time however it sought not to use its claws, instead vying for him with its teeth; and Lance was too slow in the dark, his arms pinned to the ground, each under a forepaw, with the rest of the creatures crushing weight planted over his abdomen, groin and thighs – completely preventing retaliation. The Werewolf stared into his eyes, mockingly and toying with him, saliva seeping in thick strings from between his crooked teeth, seemingly choosing how to inflict his condition to maximum effect and visibility as he moved his head with snake-like swaying. Its head plunged forwards, teeth sinking in deeply to Lance’s shoulder, the pain so acute that even his roar to combat it took no edge off, his hands balled to fists with nails dug in, the entirety of his anatomy screaming. The Were relinquished his grip roughly, licking at the wound in mockery and running its tongue up the side of his face, a growl building in its throat as it moved a paw to Lance’s chest – though the flying professor was in no way to even register this, his stare blank and focused somewhere off in the trees, a silent call for help about his expression.

And then it left, duty seemingly done, pushing down hard into the man’s ribcage with a crunch as it bounded from him and back into the night. Lance spluttered a cough, a trickle of blood coursing from the corner of his mouth as he rolled onto his front in attempts to get up. He paused with his face in the dirt, stare still vacant and eyes unfocused, before pushing himself up roughly, finding his feet momentarily before stumbling over sideways and falling to a drunken sitting position. Dumbly, he examined the damage for want of anything more productive to do. His forearms were shredded with a crisscross network of shallow cuts, hot blood oozing from the slashes along his frozen skin; his left thigh had a less than superficial cut on it, stinging painfully as the air clawed at the exposed flesh; a rogue claw had caught the side of his face down a cheek and across his lip. He spat out some blood, liquid dribbling down his chin and still trying to get his eyes to focus. Rubbing an already purpling hand in his eye he forced himself to his feet with a grunt, spare arm wrapped around his battered ribs as he tottered into motion back towards the Castle.

He was stopped almost immediately though, the glint of something silvery catching his eye, the man stooping over to scoop it up. Unscrewing the small silver pill case he peered inside it, withdrawing a small piece of parchment with an untidy scrawl upon it - “Got you. Third time’s the charm, bucko.”. He read the simple words over and over, his eyes still looking blank and his breathing still laboured. A tear rolled down his cheek over the unchanging expression, teeth clearly gritted together and jaw set firmly, yet he remained outwardly devoid of anger. With a glance around he dropped the message to the ground beside the pill-case, his movements ethereal and almost as if the density of the air was much greater, more like that of water, and he was floating through it – although the jarred nature of his walk due to injuries lessened the effect.

He stumbled onwards, not entirely sure that he was heading in the right direction, such was the time that it felt like his return journey was taking. He had fallen into the leaves several times, each foray from his path taking him longer and longer to rectify – limbs leaden and unwilling to propel him onwards in the futile position he now found himself. But rounding a corner, his eyes were met with the happy sight of the Castle, quiet and dark of the late hour – the morning side of midnight must have been a few hours old by this point. He paused, not for the first time, propping himself up against a tree; he had enough sense in him to clean himself up some before heading into so populated a location (even if most of the inhabitants should have been abed he doubted whether Hogwarts’ halls were ever truly empty of staff or students – the ghosts’ presence also a point needing consideration). He withdrew his wand from his sleeve and, pointing at himself, muttered between ragged breaths a few words to wash himself clean of the blood and mend the rips in his clothing; yet that was as far as he went, not trusting his healing skills enough to have a go at his ribs or injuries. Shoving roughly off from the tree trunk with a grunt, he continued onwards with renewed efforts to normalize his walking pattern and maintain a neutral expression across his face.

Lance wondered briefly whether it would be worth trying to find the one person he thought he could trust with this information, the person he would have to trust with this information if he was to heal anywhere near properly or be able to continue to function normally. But it was late, she would be in bed (a bitter voice in the back of his head adding something about Percy being there too, piping up in the back of his mind unasked), he didn’t think he’d make the stairs let alone be able to navigate to the hospital wing. But as he crossed the threshold, a quick glance this way and that, he knew what he had to do.

His own room was closer to hand than the hospital wing - and now that he thought on it he wasn’t even sure where Eva’s quarters might have been – so he made for the familiarity of his own space, up a mere one flight of stairs and around one corner. This was still proving a struggle however, Lance almost dragging himself up the banister in as quiet a manner as he could muster. He fell against his own door, the hard wood seeming to be the comfiest thing that he had ever encountered as he paused there for a moment to recuperate enough strength to make it to his bed in the room beyond. Tapping his wand against the wood of the door, he stumbled into the room as it swung open – unwilling to hold his weight as it unlocked – catching himself on a pillar carved into the wall. With stiffening neck and through ever increasingly heavy eyelids, he took stock of the humbly proportioned room, everything as he left it and as it had always been to his knowledge. Chin lolling to his chest he forced himself across the office space to the smaller room beyond, falling onto the bed without an attempt to catch himself should his judgment have proved off.

He seemed dead to the world then, the welcoming embrace of his quilt holding him facedown in perfect landing position for several minutes before he stirred, pushing himself roughly onto his back and raising his wand again. Swallowing thickly, he tried to get his throat to work, “Ex... expec.” he coughed weakly, fatigue from blood loss threatening to overcome him, “[Expecto patronum...” A small wisp of silvery spiralled from his wand, the man’s attempts at finding his happiest memory falling far short of the necessary levels. Mustering himself, again he tried, “Expecto patronum...”, the winged silvery horse thankfully surging from his wand and through the still open door and galloping into the dark of the Castle’s corridors towards help.

The Granian stallion moved soundlessly on ethereal hooves, carrying Lance’s message with it as it sought out the young nurse’s quarters. Achieving its destination with precision and in much less time than it would have taken the man himself to have found the room; it slowed its pace to a walk and stopped near to her bed. “Eva...” the voice was tired and not at all fitting of the majestic creature, “Cryin’ wolf f’r real this time. Help...” the message seemed cut off, the effort of sending it obvious. The patronus pawed at the ground, snorting and taking a step or two forwards before repeating the message.

Lance simply stared at the ceiling then, arms spread eagled with wand only loosely grasped in a hand, his mouth lolling open slightly with a trickle of blood running from the corner. His shirt was stained with red streaks again, blossoming outwards across the white material. He closed his eyes, grimaced as shocks of pain twitched at each of his injuries and exhaled heavily, concentration etched on his features as he attempted to keep the patronus corporeal so it had the ability to lead some help his way.

---

STATUS:: done.
WORDS:: two-eight-four-six.
OUTFIT:: click!.
NOTES:: looooooong.
MUSIC:: fairy tale of new york - the pogues.
TAGGS:: ms. e. m. tudor.

[evangalinna michelle tudor]

The day had started off as most do. Eva had woken up around 6:30 am as she normally does, went for a short jog around the lake before breakfast, and then attended breakfast with the usual crowd of staff members. After breakfast she went off to the Hospital Wing to begin her shift. The morning, thankfully, was fairly uneventful. Only a few students came in with injuries, and most were easy fixes with either a potion or a quick spell. The afternoon is where things got interesting.

One student had come in, just after lunch, with a transfiguration injury. Apparently a fourth year girl thought that she would be able to transfigure herself into a bat, and the result was a rather painful half wing on her right arm, some small claws on her left hand, and a half transfigured foot. Needless to say, that was one of the most unique injury Eva had ever delt with thus far in her career. She even had to disturb the Head Nurse, who was looking after another student, for advice as to how to fix the fourth year. Turns out that the spells were a lot less complicated than Eva had imagined, though still more advanced that a general spell for healing.

After that incident, the day calmed down again. Her shift was due to end only two hours after the student was fixed up and resting, and once again only students with minor injuries had appeared. A thought crossed her mind then about how no students must have been injured during flying class, and made a mental note to tease Lance a little bit at dinner about such events. Maybe mention that he was being too careful. Her shift seemed to fly by after that thought, which was rather odd considering she was eager to get to dinner to tease Lance a little bit. However, once at dinner, she could not find her friend.

This seemed rather odd at first. Then Eva realised that perhaps Lance had given detention to somebody, and they stayed through dinner. That was the only thought that came to her mind, and Eva hoped that was the case. Mayhaps Eva is just too optomistic for her own good, since no bad thoughts or fears crossed her mind.

After dinner Eva retired to her room. She caught up on a bit of reading, curling up in her bed long before she would fall asleep. It was a small comfort to her, curling up in a ball as she had since childhood, with a good book. In a way, this position, with a book in hand, eased any fears that the day may have once held, or still held. Hours passed within seconds to Eva as she read the familiar pages. It was not uncommon to find Miss Tudor reading a book that she could practically read by heart, and this book was one of those.

At around 11 Eva decided that it was time to actually go to sleep. Her typical cue is when the words become dreams. She quickly shut her book, and blew out the candle that lit her room, then curled up beneath the heavey blankets, embracing the warmth that they shed over her cool arms. Within minutes she was sound asleep.

Not too long later Eva was woken up by the sight of a silver figure. Eva was startled by this, guessing that it must be a figment of her imagination. She rubbed her eyes to clear the sleepies that were there. Once her eyes unfogged she saw the form of a winged horse. Startled once more Eva sat bolt upright in bed, just in time to hear the familiar voice of Lance come through said horse 'Eva...Cryin’ wolf f’r real this time. Help...'

Needless to say the words confused Eva at first. She was, after all, still half asleep. Once the words sunk into her brain, Eva sprang from her bed. The horse pawed at the ground, seeming very impatient with the girl. "Well?" She said to the horse, now getting impatient herself, "lead the way will you!" So hasty in her efforts to get out the door Eva did not even bother covering up her pajamas as she ran through the corridors after the horse. She didn't even notice the cold castle floor beneath her feet as she ran.

Fortunately, Eva was smart enough to have at least grabbed her wand before exiting her room, hardly remembering to shut the door behind as she left. Lance's patronous led the way to where he was, and Eva stopped in her tracks at the first sight of him. At first the words 'crying wolf' made Eva think of just being injured. A simple injury she could handle with ease. Eva, however, was not prepared for what she saw. Lance was covered with gashes, some artificial, some quite serious. What caught her eyes first though, was the amount of blood that seemed to be on his shoulder. Her breath caught in her throat, hand clapping over her mouth at the sight. Eva had not been kidding when she mentioned it being hard to heal a friend, just the sight of Lance in such obvious agony brought some small tears to her eyes.

Once Eva gained her composure once more, she dragged her feet to start moving in the direction of Lance. Her feet moved very slowly across the floor, much like a car inching forward in rush hour traffic, until she reached a foot away from his bed. Her feet stopped there, the full extened of Lance's injuries coming into view. Her breath caught once more, and she tried to compose herself once more. "Lance," She began in a soft voice "What on earth happened to you?" She knelt down on the ground, close to his head, gettin a good view of the shoulder that seemed to be one of the worst injuries. Her eyes scanned him over, trying to gauge the severity of the rest of his injuries. Her eyes blinked a few times, everything running through her brain at a mile a minute. This was obviously much more serious that falling out of a tree or something, something only Lance could trust Eva with.

Something this serious a normal person would normally call on someone with more experience than Eva had to her name, with that thought her brain ran through previous conversations, landing on one in particular. Their first meeting. Shock filled her eyes, shaking her head in disbelief. The word 'wolf' had so much more meaning that she had originally thought it to. "Lance, no way." Her voice was softer than before, mind unable to come up with any other words. Her eyes were wide with shock still, brain continuously running through the random spells that she had learned over the course of her learning of healing. Upon realization that nothing she knew was as advanced enough for the extent of Lance's injuries, she 'accio'd' one of her spell books, waiting with as much patience as possible for the bok to show up. Once there, she began flicking through the pages, trying to find anything that may help.

[lancelot conall callaghan]

PROF. L. C. CALLAGHAN____

He groaned quietly to himself, screwing his eyes shut and clenching his jaw, lips peeling back to reveal his bloodstained teeth. The muscles across his frame reacted likewise as he attempted to shut out the pain and ignore the fire that was raging across the majority of his being; he scrunched his fingers and toes tightly into balls, arching his back off of the quilt and flexing his biceps and calves. But then the fight drained out of him with just as much suddenness, his limbs going limp as he sank back into the bed clothes as another noise of discomfort escaped through parted lips. His thoughts had emptied, his brain sluggish in action as he struggled to keep his consciousness, the simple mantra about the cruel coincidence of the situation running around in a carousel in his mind – a noise, which would have been a low chuckle under normal circumstances but sounded more akin to a cough given his current state, rumbling in his throat accompanied by a very slight shake of his head.

He opened his eyes in an asymmetrical fashion as the sound of rushed footfalls reached his ears from the corridor that ran down towards his quarters, pupils pinpricks as the light of his patronus rushed back towards him before shattering into a shower of glitter, like a firework, over him. Readjusting, he focused his eyes upon the form of who he hoped was the young nurse, head lifted ever so slightly for a better perspective on them. As his vision cleared, relief flooded through his system, some of his prior internalised panic relinquished – despite her incredulous questioning over the course of the night that had led to him to be in such a predicament, he was comforted merely by her presence, a friendly face and voice amongst the tumult of the situation. He breathed a weak scoff, chest aching against the action, and swallowed thickly, regarding her through heavy eyelids as he replied with a feeble smile on his expression, “Oh, the fun I’ve had this evening...” He turned his head then, nose a few inches from hers, and raised a hand towards her, fingers curling and extending with idle rhythm, “You wouldn’t believe it...” He laboured nature of his speech was obvious, his words quiet and tone fluctuating over the slurred together words.

He was quiet then, having to content himself with watching her figuring out what to do – helpless to do very much more, and hating himself for it. The smile had gone from his face, a frown affixing itself upon his forehead and his mouth settling down to a tense line. His mind was moving at a greater rate of knots now, willing her to reach the conclusion over what had happened to him – putting together the pieces of the puzzle in a timely fashion – and equally hoping that by some miracle she knew of a way to prevent the full force of the affliction hitting him. Perhaps there was a way to stop the infection before it took a full grip, prevent him developing symptoms, heal up all the cuts and slashes with minimal scarring... He knew deep down that he was grasping at straws, yet his tendency towards optimism would hold on to the evanescent tendrils of hope until futility was wholly apparent. A pleading expression overcame his features as she drew her conclusions, Lance managing a slight nod of his stiffening neck. “Karma’s a bitch.” he laughed shortly again, the pain of the action evident.

Unable to do much else, his brain continued to speed up. Other doubts set in about his mind – his own selfishness at the forefront of it all: he had just dragged Eva into a highly dangerous situation, someone who he barely knew yet trusted beyond anyone else at the school. He cursed himself inwardly. Ever since Hallowe’en the authorities had been cracking down on Werewolves and those associating with them, he had effectively made a fugitive out of her due to the decisions he had made and the course of action he had therefore set in motion. He wondered if she quite realised the severity of that side of the whole state of affairs, at present she would be in shock over it all, acting on impulse and adrenaline without thought for the consequences. He made further motion with his hand, grabbing for the material of her pyjama trousers and turning his eyes back to her face then as she continued to wrack her brains and summoned spell book for anything that might help the stricken professor. “Thank you...” he choked out, a resolute look to his expression despite the obvious wave of unconsciousness he was fighting, “’Ppreciate your efforts...” He closed his eyes as he spoke and took an obvious breath, adding in continued murmur, “...glad I got someone t’trust.”

Despite the weakened physical state that he was inhabiting, his senses seemed heightened – although his vision was for the most part unfocused, he found himself noticing minute details he would previously have overlooked; his ears keen on picking up the sounds of Eva riffling through the pages of her book, the twitch of a pained smile lingering about his lips; his nostrils full of the simple scent of her deodorant and shampoo despite the overwhelming metallic stench of his own blood-drenched being. He wondered vaguely if he was already being affected by this affliction, or if he was simply looking for a little bit of positivity amongst the tremendous number of negatives that the attack had bestowed upon his shoulders; his body was perhaps merely reacting to the stress by shifting its focus to different aspects of his physiology. He opened his eyes again, almost checking, regarding the young woman – something about her was definitely different in his perception, but if anything, things were all the less clear.

---

STATUS:: done.
WORDS:: nine-seven-five.
OUTFIT:: click!.
NOTES:: thank you for indulging me =P .
MUSIC:: links 2 3 4 - rammstein.
TAGGS:: ms. e. m. tudor.