โ๐๐ญโ๐ฌ ๐ ๐ฅ๐ข๐๐๐ญ๐ข๐ฆ๐ ๐จ๐ ๐ฌ๐๐ซ๐ฏ๐ข๐๐ ๐จ๐ซ ๐๐๐๐ญ๐กโ โฃ
โฃ
โฃ๐๐ฉ๐ข๐ต ๐ช๐ง ๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ค๐ฉ๐ฐ๐ด๐ฆ ๐ด๐ฆ๐ณ๐ท๐ช๐ค๐ฆ? โฃ
โฃtw: minor descriptions of branding & bl*od
โฃGrit stuck like glue beneath his nails, indents subjected on each thumb, small dents in pale skin like potholes in tarmac. His fingers would scrunch up by his side and dig those sharp edges into his thumb, one, or both, it served the same purpose. โฃ
โฃOnce it had been a coping mechanism; โ๐ฉ๐ฎ๐ฌ๐ก ๐๐ฐ๐๐ฒ ๐ญ๐ก๐ ๐๐๐๐ซ, ๐ค๐๐๐ฉ ๐ฒ๐จ๐ฎ๐ซ ๐๐ฒ๐๐ฌ ๐ญ๐จ ๐ญ๐ก๐ ๐๐ฅ๐จ๐จ๐ซ ๐๐ง๐ ๐๐จ ๐ง๐จ๐ญ ๐ญ๐ซ๐๐ฆ๐๐ฅ๐.โโฃ
โฃNot spoken out of the love, they were not bound in his head from the concern that came with. No, they were firm, and cold, the consequences for one would insist upon them all. So he did not tremble. Not after the first time. His knees knocking about, like an echo in the silent chamber, and saliva pooled at the back of his throat, too terrified to swallow for every sound seemed to reverberate. โฃ
โฃNow, some long years later, they were to spark pain where his nerves no longer reached, numb, and skin scarred so heavily in patches no feeling ever caressed it, locked in a frozen state of flesh and nothing more. โฃ
โฃThe life of a Death Eater was everything heโd expected. He had been taught, raised, bred for the moment the brand was burned into his skin, and something ripped inside choking off any screams as his tissue sizzled like a barbecue beneath the watchful gaze of those ruby red eyes. The mark left no damage but a tattoo, forever a reminder, forever a welcome, and a heavy something in his gut, like a stone pressing against his naval. That something was their ticket out, quite literally, leaving behind a carnage in the swirling mists, and they would land in the protection of the manor of their lord. โฃ
โฃOn the night of his first mission, his first fight against the order, his first death that stained blood on his hands as it pooled around an unfamiliar face, when that happened; heโd laughed ...
โฃThe adrenaline rush, maybe. Feeling it thrum like the coil of a snake rearing itโs head inside his itching skin, tort with a static energy despite the sweat that moistened his palms and the soft breaths that echoed loudly behind the roar of waves. Building, building, stooping higher they lapped in the tides of his ears with the howling wind, climbing, the quicker night drew the louder it got, so close, on the edge teetering between .. and behind the mask his identity was nothing to no one. Draped in those black cloaks he was apart of something ๐ฃ๐ช๐จ๐จ๐ฆ๐ณ. They surrounded them, the older ones, tightly knit in stance and experience, they seemed woven together in the sea of black cloaks and no spells would make it through that night. He was protected. For a second, he was invincible. โฃ
โฃ
โฃ๐๐ง๐ ๐ก๐ ๐ฅ๐จ๐ฏ๐๐ ๐ข๐ญ.
