I AM BEAST. I AM CLAW
AND I AM FANG. WHEN I SNARL
THEY RUN AND HIDE. WHEN I HOWL
THEY CRY MY NAME. “ BEAST ! ” fenrir greyback for nocturnumrp as captured by petra.
date & time: may 5th 1979, evening.
location: the ministry of magic.
he trespasses on holy ground, but there is stealth within a battalion of pristinely tailored suits. BAGNOLD’S elocutions result in a lip that draws rearward -- taut like a bowstring -- and razor-bared canines. werewolves and vampires are but two adversaries she’s struck, and both bite. though he’s been known to bark, a global radius of wanted posters prove his malevolent capabilities. there is a furor of dissent that security proceeds to quell, yet tongues permeated by wine lacerate over crystalline-rimmed glasses. a leathered flask is slipped from an inner pocket, its cap revolved twice, then raised to pursed lips. ❛ she’s going to find a lot more than just her name scratched off the ballot. ❜
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The woman wilts like a lifeless violet as the chambers of her mind are flooded with obfuscating magic —- her blue eyes dim, her mouth falls agape, and her breathing slows to a dangerous pace. The nuances of her memory are gently coaxed into the dim corridors of her mind and the heavy velvet curtain of forgetful bliss is drawn back. The mind-addled woman disappears ( oblivious and smiling ) back into the pub. His work is done. A vine wood wand retreats into the cover of its master’s cloak, and the double-agent turns his attention away.
Tucked neatly into the alley behind The Leaky Cauldron is the figure of the man who initiated the attack: a brazen and foolish accosting of a muggle-born wizard just outside The Leaky Cauldron. Despite his impetuous actions, he has the gaul to glare at Théo for interfering —- his skin has the pallor of a sick moon from loss of blood and his eyes are sunken and hateful. It’s obvious that the vicious spell the woman used against him has left him lingering at death’s moribund door —- Théo knows how to reverse the damage, but he doesn’t lift his wand to help. Should the foul bastard bleed out in the alley, there would be one less shadow in the Dark Lord’s growing phalanx of foot soldiers.
“You’re hasty,” Théo imparts softly, his voice even with feigned indifference. “Picking fights with muggles outside the Leaky Cauldron won’t get you the recognition you so desperately desire from the Dark Lord.”
“You know nothing of the Dark Lord’s desires, half-blood —-” The insult is cut short by a guttural explosion of coughs. Specks of blood slick the cobblestone.
“Insult me again and I’ll finish the witch’s work.”
Théo prepares to apparate with the wounded and disagreeable figure, but the hollow knock of footfalls echoes and stops him in his tracks.
tormented vision peers at the wolf, and they recoil in his hostile gait. his charred soul belongs to the embrace of AZKABAN; where the thunderous sea blunders the hulls of fearsome vessels, devours them like an egregious kraken -- leviathan of the black salt abyss. he nearly collides with a woman’s stuporous stride. inhuman reflexes evade her dazed exterior, but those of the wizarding world can decipher her lackluster aura. THE LEAKY CAULDRON and its expectant conclave are exchanged for stalking shadows.
a corner is rounded, leather trench coat accompanying the motion with reactant sway. he observes the spray of pink mist abscond the wounded’s sputtering mouth. gaze departs from the veela at his left. the predator’s shoulder melds with grotesquely stained brick as his maw parts to instigate rhetoric. ❛ got yourself into trouble, fletwick ? ❜ lips draw back over grinning canines. the sight amuses him -- it isn’t the first time he’s stumbled upon the impulsive culprit.
dual moons have transcended since he last scrutinized the ashen-haired male at BORGIN AND BURKES. newcomers often defined spies, often put a crater in his own pack’s scrupulous itinerary. and credence of the fellow half-blood’s presence has yet to be sanctioned. ❛ let him bleed, delacour. ❜ the alpha’s slate gaze narrows in. ❛ he’s worth nothing to all sides of this war. ❜
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smoke plumes from the lungs of a distorted shadow leaning against the uneven rain glistened bricks. the pitter patter of rain doesn’t bother her, eyes closed as the breathes in, the petrichor filling her lungs as the smoke vacates ( twisting in the air, before dissolving with the touch of a raindrop. ) she flicks the cigarette over her shoulder, spotting figures approaching from the left with an eagle eye as she clicks her tongue against her teeth, before resting it flat as she regards each person that passes her by: her wand peeking out of her sleeve while she inclines her head, a show of respect ( because she knows she is just as bad as them, and she knows their faces: she knows the whispers from behind their backs, the ones that obliterate any respect left, obliterating what they deserve. ) sinking backwards into her shadow, she slowly digs her cigarette into the wall behind her, sparks falling onto her fingers and down to the floor, igniting in puddles before going out. dying embers are all she sees.
her boots press to the corner of the stones as she recognises the imposing figure she spots coming from her right. if she were anything but a cynic, she’d probably be fearing for her life: fenrir greyback was a known affiliate of the dark lord, but she knew better than to believe he believed in the absolute of pureblood purity. the still bruised and bandaged warrior lets her lips twitch upwards into an almost disturbing smile, ❛ fancy seeing you ‘round these parts. ❜ there’s an unhampered respect in each of her words. her knuckles rub against the hard leather of her jacket as she watches the dried blood fall to the floor, before she meets his eyes.
as the lupine traverses the threshold of diagon to knockturn alley, parchment depicting beastly attributes recedes alongside twilight. in emblazoned publication: W A N T E D by the MINISTRY OF MAGIC : FENRIR GREYBACK. savage werewolf. convicted murderer. suspected death eater. * APPROACH WITH EXTREME CAUTION ! *. canines blaze before weathered placards -- quite the leviathan they’ve forged of him. they expect his wolven reign to be of ephemeral fabrication, but he is ALPHA ; they’re OMEGA. he has grown weary of their oppression. he has grown weary of mangled bones beneath marring moons that twist, shatter, and reconstruct. an index sheers sepia fibers from fragmented brick. plastered, charmed anatomy cascades, is conquered by a murky pool. the sole of his boot compresses, obliterates fatalistic identity.
tendrils of clouded nicotine engulf the werewolf’s augmented senses. embered sparks seize his sapphiric peripheral, and ash descends like snow. she is the only one who dares address him, who dares to fathom his resolve. ❛ meadowes. ❜ he hails, bulgarian timbre un-afflicted by severed allegiances. a suppressed grin emerges -- the barest twitch from mouth corner. this is a witch he ceases to loathe. an arm extends at his approach, palm upward, the gesture hushed in its request for the woman’s hand. the scent of iron from bludgeoned knuckles is sharp and potent. ❛ what war have you won today ? ❜
BACK AT IT AGAIN WITH THE SECOND CHARACTER~ hello ! i’m admin petra ( *jack sparrow vc* BUT YOU HAVE HEARD OF ME ), twenty-one, operate in the cst timezone and go by she/her pronouns. i, like the rest of you, am an absolute HP H O E. a fun note: you can find me supporting maximum angst and problematic scenarios with deplorable outcomes ! i hope to plot and speak with you all soon; my IMs are always open ( as well as discord if desired ) !
* △ — the dark lord has targeted [ FENRIR GREYBACK ] ! the muggles say he holds resemblance to [ SEBASTIAN STAN ]. the [ THIRTY-FIVE ] year old [ CIS MALE ] was [ INDOMITABLE & TACTICAL ] before the war, but now have become [ BARBARIC & INSURGENT ]. though they were once a part of [ DURMSTRANG ], they now have taken up the position of the [ LEADER OF THE WEREWOLF ARMY ]. whispers throughout the ministry claim that the [ HALFBLOOD ] is actually [ A DEATH EATER ], but i wouldn’t report that to the daily prophet.
* law and order noise *
full moons, bloody hands, lone wolves, the colosseum, pompeii buried under meters of ash and pumice, the catastrophic event of mount vesuvius, a confessional aflame, gunmetal, winter’s barren tundra, vermillion stained canines, blinding fog, the howl before the scream, scarred flesh, black fur, a decaying forest, melting glaciers, a scratched leather trench coat, whiskey, black coffee, shadows.
fenrir lycaon greyback.
6′1 & demisexual & bulgarian.
for quite some time, he was the top of his class at durmstrang, and was expected to go quite the ways in the wizarding world. he also had an immense passion for the wizarding world’s creatures.
at thirteen, fenrir witnessed a werewolf attack his ten-year-old sister. though he defended her, he ended up bit in the process, and also witnessed his sister’s death.
at the next full moon, he wiped out the remainder of his family due to the curse.
for a long time, he despised what he was. the wizarding world made sure to place werewolves at the bottom of the totem pole, and eventually he decided he’d no longer allow his species to be placed low.
you can often find him skulking around knockturn alley with a few of his highest ranking wolves, including in pub where only werewolves may enter.
he does not fully support the dark lord -- nor does he hold the dark mark or support the purist movement -- but is a very valuable ally in which the dark lord requires. in exchange for fenrir’s aid, the dark lord considers him a death eater for the sheer purpose of keeping him in his inner circle.
fenrir hopes to achieve werewolf equality through the war, and has chosen darker means to obtain it. throughout his life, he’s been driven by vengeance.
he often attacks those who speak wrongly of his species ( consider why he attacked remus, due to his father saying that all werewolves deserved death, were vermin, etc ).
however, fenrir has also changed people of their own request as well as providing them an alternate route if death is approaching. of course, they must be a part of his army if they choose to accept. he’s been known to destroy anyone who dares defect.
the alpha of his pack, fenrir actually holds immense respect among the wizarding world’s werewolves. if you manage to befriend him, he’s quite the ally to have by your side.
HONESTLY THERE’S S O M U C H HMU ILY XOXO ADMIN PETRA
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