#therin

In a dark corner of the Quicksand lurked a towering Xaela man standing no less than seven fulms tall, leaning back against the wall with arms crossed, clad in heavy black platemail with two bright flames of fire aether shooting from the pauldrons that miraculously did not set his raven hair ablaze. A large broadsword nearly bigger than he was strapped to his back. He periodically scoffed and grunted at nothing in particular, otherwise silent in his brooding until he caught the eye of a petite and waifish Raen lingering near the railing, much of her skin left exposed between her crop-top and miniskirt, porcelain pale and curiously absent of scales.

Here y’all.

Have a Lizurd.

"If you are not a doll version of Lucius, then why does everything you say sound exactly like everything *he* says? It's like someone...shall we say Corypheus?...pulls a string, and then you utter whatever random absurdity he has programmed you with."

"And if you know what the red lyrium is doing to the Templars, then you are as much to blame as Corypheus and your father, for the atrocities that will surely follow."

"Keep in mind that I have an intimate relationship with all that comes into contact with the Underworld. Not just departed souls, but minerals, gems and crystals."

"And I take abuse of anything that is mine, most seriously."

The Gryffindor Paladin — Ravana

His hair resembles a lion’s mane, coarse and intimidating, long enough to trail behind him like a cape. His mask was more akin to the skull of a lion — sabre teeth and all — and covered only the top half of his face, covered his eyes and their emotion and allowed only his dashing smile to fall through his façade. Bouts of carmine and gold traced intricate trenches onto the black of his armor, pauldrons and bandolier. He was stunning in every aspect of the word and he’d taken you hostage, claiming he was trying to protect his darling little prince(ss) — not hold them hostage.

In the light, his labrys and bonemask did no justice to his merlot-and-moscato colored eyes, eyes which held warmth despite the monster they belonged to. He is protective and submissive and beloved by all, a man who masquerades as a hero to hide the villain within.

The Ravenclaw Sorceror — Alecor

His cloak is made of feathers which reach the floor, his presence as foreshadowing as a raven. Pages upon pages surrounded him and you wondered if words were inscribed in his blood. Wings upon wings extended from his back, reminiscent of a seraph; but you knew he was everything an angel was not. Blood coated what little was left of his right wing, the surviving feathers splayed and crooked and broken when the others had been ripped off. And when he captured your chin between cold, long fingers, nails sharp enough to resemble talons, you swore he had to restrain himself from ripping off his crow-like mask and lapping up your blood.

In the darkness, his birdmask hid electrifying blue and keenly predatory eyes and perhaps that was for the better. He is possessive and reluctant and scornful, a wise man who could not decipher what he’s feeling.

The Hufflepuff Priestess — Merula

From her golden crown drifted a veil long enough to hide her face, black enough to extinguish all light that dared enter. She was the good one, the saint, the delusional seer who hid her eyes from the world so that she could sin without witnessing her own hypocrisy and evil. Her robes were thick, accentuated every curve of her body without revealing anything, and from afar, she looked more like a dementor than a holy woman. A black sheep, an outcast — it shouldn’t have been a surprise when she took interest to you. It shouldn’t have been a surprise when her thoughts never left you, when her actions grew harsher and less saintly. She was a demon disguised as an angel; she’d bend heaven and raise hell just to have you.

In the light, her black veil hid her canary golden eyes for she feared they would condemn her for who she’d become. She is obsessive and delusional and faithful all the same, a woman who hid from the truth before her eyes.

The Slytherin Emperor — Therin

His face was sunken and staunch, a mix of skeleton and snake all at once — and yet, he was beautiful. And when he looked at you, you swore Death had looked upon you himself. His crown, silver like mercury, sat atop elegantly-dressed pitch black hair, daunting and powerful when paired with pitch black, leather attire and gloves. Unlike the rest, he wore no mask or veil -- he wore his evils on his face, like a showman disinterested with the affairs of his critics. He had an air about him that made everyone kneel regardless of his status, and you realized: you’d rather die on your feet than on your knees before this man. 

In the darkness, his eyes shone serpentine green, slitted pupils analyzing your form as if you were an insect that had interested him, as if there was something in you worth looking at. He is manipulative and sadistic and cunning, a man who relished being the villain in his own story.

EITA! Eu não tinha parado pra pensar por esse lado. O Therin não é amigo dela? A Electra já não é flor que se cheire, imagine como vai ficar no meio da situação... Quem foi que pediu treta? Olha aí uma pronta pra rolar. Quero pra já!

Gaoth sentou-se ao lado do colega, dando-lhe uma boa olhada. Nunca tinham conversado, é verdade, mas sua fama de traquinas ia longe. E o fae divertia-se com algumas das histórias sobre suas pegadinhas que percorriam os corredores. Naquela noite ligeiramente frustrante e regada a álcool, portanto, decidiu aproximar-se de Therin. “Ei.”, disse, chamando-lhe a atenção “Você tem mesmo uma cara de quem está tramando alguma coisa, sabia disso?”

((I wanted to thank @castielamigos-whump-side-blog and @whumpwhumpwhumpwhump for being the biggest supports of this. It’s given me inspiration to get the posts out quick. Idk where I’m going but I can sure find out! So here’s Part 3! Part 1, Part 2))

They were being hunted, stalked. That was about all they knew. Therin woke up first, in the middle of a forest, there was a moment of panic when he sat up but a note fluttered off him. In neat, familiar script it said, “Make it back to the Academy. You have five days. - Master Carron.”

Looking around he’d found Ciel and Julietta. Apparently they were ready to start training together. It had been several months since he’d started training with his shields and Master Carron had said they would be moving up training. Apparently this was it.

And now, they were on day three and they knew people were behind them. Stalking them, watching them, hunting them. Ciel had two healing potions and a small bag of herbs. Julietta had her sword. And Therin has been left with his spell book. Not having their spell books meant they couldn’t cast high level spells. It seemed each of them had been left with the tools of their future positions.

On the back of the note was the name of the woods, and that was all. It surrounded the Academy, but none of them had been too far in it. They had to work together to get to the school. They noticed the people following them the first day. An arrow at his feet was the only warning they’d gotten. They ran.

“Cave, up ahead,” Julietta panted. And sure enough, there was. The people were closer, their own pace had slowed, the people’s had not. Therin nodded to the cave and they shifted direction to get in the cave, it wasn’t too deep, fifteen feet back at most and ten feet tall. They all but collapsed onto the floor.

“We can’t outrun them.” Therin grimaced, but Ciel was saying what they were all thinking. “We have to lose them or fight them.”

Therin let out a shaky breath. It was his call. He was the leader, the one with the spells. “We’ve got two more days. Let’s try and lose them tonight, if not we’ll fight. If we win, we’ve got two days to get back, if we don’t, we weren’t meant to be there in the first place. Hoods up, we’re going to circle back.” They nodded and flicked up their hoods.

****

They did not lose them. But circling back did reveal there were six of the hunters. They forced a fight at dawn. It was hard. Ciel only had his lowest spells. Therin sent him to take out the archers while he and Julietta took on the four melee fighters.

He was not a melee fighter himself but he had enough close ranged spells that he didn’t immediately get taken out. He heard a body drop and an angry scream. An arrow caught him in the shoulder and he fell. Pain ripped through him, different than a spell’s pain.

The next was cut out of the air by Julietta. He threw up a shield to stop the attack at her back, the sword clanging off it. “Focus,” he growled pushing himself to his feet. He saw Ciel take out the other archer. Four left, actually three, as Julietta sword connected. He snapped off the end of the arrow and raised his hands towards the two nearest, teeth gritting to ignore the pain radiating from the wound.

The spell went off a second too late and Julietta turned, a sword striking her back. “No!” Ciel yelled rushing over despite the three still up.

Therin threw a shield up to block the next attack against her as the spell struck two of them. One didn’t move but the other scrambled for a sword. He ignored them, and launched himself at the man still up and felt a sword bite into his calf. Ciel slid under the blade to get to her. Therin slammed himself into the man, knocking them both over.

He called lightning, his favored element, to his hands and slammed them on the man’s chest. His face contorted in horror, then pain, then it went slack. He stood and immediately shot lightning at the man who cut him, the only one left. Nothing but a blackened crust of his head was left.

Therin wanted to drop. The adrenaline faded and his vision swam but he stumbled to Julietta. Exhaustion hit him, physically and magically, as he dropped next to her. In the back of his mind he knew they needed to hunt something. But that could wait.

“She alive,” Ciel confirmed, there was an empty healing potion bottle next to him. “But she’s not awake.” Her breath was shallow, the sword had cut from one should blade to the the other hip.

“Use the other,” Therin commanded.

“But your wounds,” Ciel tried.

“I’m still conscious. We won’t leave her, but we can’t carry her all the way. She needs to be up,” Therin’s time left no room for arguments. He could survive his wounds. He was the leader and that meant making the most beneficial decision. Healing himself wouldn’t put him at full strength and they wouldn’t be able to carry her. Ciel nodded and after this one Julietta opened her eyes.

“Welcome back, we need to keep moving.” Therin couldn’t hide his smile. “Let’s see what they’ve got then continue. Julietta, can you stand?” She nodded and got shakily to her feet. “Good, go search their weapons, at least the bows, it’ll give us more to work with.”

“And their cloaks!” Ciel called as she stiffly headed to the scattered bodies. “You sit. This is gonna hurt but I’ve got no healing potions left,” he said gesturing to the arrow.

Therin gritted his teeth as Ciel pulled it out. They wrapped it in strips of cloth and did the same for his leg, putting some of the herbs on it. It stung and he had to limp but he wasn’t going to bleed out, probably. They each had a cloak now, Julietta had a shield, and Ciel took a bow and the arrows. They left with Ciel supporting him while Julietta scouted ahead.

It was slow going, and Therin did his best not to stumble but the steps burned his leg. He could feel the blood deep under the bandages.

They actually managed to get a rabbit that night and Therin got a fire going. It was the first day they weren’t just eating berries. Therin’s arm throbbed with every movement, and his leg ached. He took first watch. Just because the hunters were gone didn’t mean they were safe.

He couldn’t get their faces out of his mind. He didn’t know if they’d been ordered to kill but it certainly seemed like they had been. It had been a do or die situation. He couldn’t be faulted for that, not really. Still, he saw the man’s horrified expression when he shut his eyes, the taste of electricity on his tongue.

Even when it was his turn to sleep it didn’t come easy. The dreams were electric white and blood red that faded to burned blackness. He awoke with a jolt early the next morning. Julietta glanced over at him but didn’t say anything, her expression less haunted in the beginnings of light. He tended the fire and when Ciel woke up they were off again.

It was slow going. He refused to let Ciel support him the whole way. If he was correct they should make the Academy by mid afternoon. He’d already been injured, he didn’t want to show Master Carron further weakness by needing support with those injuries.

The wound on his leg was steadily bleeding, despite the new wrappings, it couldn’t scab when each step tore it apart. But he limped on. They stayed in a tight formation, the other two on the defensive while he was on the offensive.

He must’ve been lightheaded from either the pain or the blood loss because it wasn’t mid afternoon, it was past dusk when they arrived. A guard ran to get Master Carron while they stood in the front hall. Therin swayed slightly, just wanting to sleep but they all straightened when Master Carron made his way down the stairs, a pleased smile on his face.

“Well done. Go, get your wounds attended to. I want your report, written and verbal, tomorrow morning,” the words were neutral but the smile didn’t leave his face.