I want to come home...

Coming...well, coming home, for the first time, had given Credence a lot of time to think, particularly given how much of it he'd spent tucked into a warm bed to combat the shivers that had set in. Even now, his father- and wasn't that a kicker, to be able to say that now- his father had gotten him propped up in a somewhat battered but comfortable old armchair in front of the fire, a blanket tucked around his knees.

"Ma...Mary Lou...always said I was wicked..."

Though he tried, he wasn't sure if Mary Lou Barebone would ever leave his mind, the sting of the belt across his hands or across his back still sometimes resurging in a phantom pain from time to time. Her voice still rung in his head sometimes, whispering about him being a foul boy, a child of the devil.

He'd once thought it was, back in Berlin, when he'd still been clinging to the half-truths that Grindelwald had fed him, when his anger and his pain had been his fuel, but he knew now that it wasn't the case. He'd been an unknown and even in the few days since he'd come home with his father, he'd received more love than he ever had before in his entire life.

"I used to...used to imagine someone would come...rescue me from her..."

He's begun to wonder if Nurmengard is in fact no less a prison than the Second Salem Church has ever been.

Oh, of course, here he could practice magic, here he could pore over books and scrawl on the board in his room, try to figure things out and learn new things. He'd drowned himself in knowledge, devouring book after book and yet still...

Yet still there are so many questions, and a cage is still a cage, even if it is gilded. And all the books in the world will never sooth that unbearable pain that coils in his chest. He's not stupid, he knows Grindelwald's offer of revenge is also a claim to his power. Ever unwanted and unloved for who he is, only sought after because of the beast that claws inside him, begging to be unleashed. It's killing him. Slowly but surely.

Scrubbing a hand across his face, he lifts his head a little in acknowledgement, though he doesn't turn to look at Queenie, not yet, gaze remaining downcast.

　She has approached him quietly, uncertainty even but finds herself pulled in by the fear, the anger filling his mind. She feels as though they wrap around her throat, demand to be looked at.

　 Her arms stay folded in front of her stomach and her fingers pull unconsciously at her old engagement ring. Head tilded only a bit to the side, she's paying great attention to the boy, a hint of almost motherly concern is on her face. His emotions seem to seep through his thoughts and she continues to take them in until her chest begins to feel heavier with borrowed sorrow.

　Her shoulders raise a bit when she takes in a breath, she seems to want to talk. Unsure of what words would do any good, she softens.

Is this all that's destined for him? To be passed from master to master and used until he finally burns himself out and crumbles into ash? It's beginning to feel like it, and he's so so tired.

"I want to go home," he whispers, whether to Queenie or just to himself is hard to tell, "But I don't know where that is." It isn't here, that's for certain. It's not New York either, not with the shadows that undoubtedly linger there to haunt him if he did return. But it's not Paris either. Is it possible, to long for, to miss something that you've never truly had?

“there’s something you’re not telling me.”

“i can’t— i can’t tell you. i can’t. don’t make me say it.”

“you know… you know it’s, like… it’s not on you. you know that, right?”

“are you.. sure this okay?”

“please.. don’t lie to me.”

“you owe me the truth, at least.”

“why the fuck would i ever trust you again?”

“did something happen to you? something you haven’t told me?”

“you don’t have to say it. i already know.”

“i love you.. i do.. that’s why I have to leave.”

“if you won’t change… then i can’t stay. i’m sorry.”

“i won’t just sit here and watch you drink yourself to death.”

“what the hell’s going on with you? seriously. what’s going on?”

“i think you expect too much from me.”

“if i stay… can you promise this will stop?”

“this place isn’t safe for either of us, we need to leave.”

“do you think i deserved it?”

“i don’t want to hurt you. stop asking me that.”

“you didn’t have this scar the last time i saw you… what happened?”

“is this new? wait, are you hurt?”

“are you seriously getting into fights? really?”

“don’t start a fight you won’t win.”

“i’m not gonna fight with you.”

“i won’t just stand around and let you hurt yourself.”

“do you want me to leave? it feels like you don’t want me here.”

“how am i supposed to help you when you’re like this?”

“are you drunk? i thought you stopped drinking?”

Send one for your muse to…

★ - drag my muse by the arm ⁂ - grab my muse by the front of their shirt, possibly shoving them back ✱ - take my muse by the hips to carefully move them out of their way ➜ - smack my muse upside the head ⌧ - grip my muse by the back of the neck © - put a hand on my muse’s back to steer them somewhere ✂ - point sternly at a chair and tell my muse to sit down ✉ - push my muse back down when they try to get out of bed (perhaps involving illness, injury, or sleep deprivation) ☛ - press a finger to my muse’s lips to shut them up ♚ - put a hand on my muse’s knee while sitting next to them, to discourage them from standing up ♧ - slap my muse’s hand away from something they shouldn’t touch ♦ - grab my muse’s hair and yank ♤ - slam a door shut before my muse can leave the room ♞ - physically pick my muse up and carry them ♭ - grip my muse’s jaw to make them look yours in the eye ♨ - rub my muse down with a sponge/wet cloth  ☀ - pin my muse with their arms behind their back ☠ - slam my muse into a wall ☾ - wrestle/pin my muse to the ground

tws apply: grief/fear for someone’s life, mention of injuries, unconsciousness, hospitals, comas, mention of involuntary drugging. that’s the general vibe.

WORDS

“Theeeere you are. Hi. Welcome back.”

“Breathe. Hi, we found you, just breathe for me, okay?”

“This is going to hurt, but it will help you.”

“You’re safe. [Name], can you hear me? They’re here to help you, you need to let them help you.”

“I found them, they’re over here!”

“Does anyone have medical training?”

“N.. no, no, no, no, hey. [Name]? Hi, I’ve got you.”

“You can sleep, [name]. It’s over.”

“I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

“You were in an induced coma. Your body went through a lot.”

“I wasn’t –… Your doctors weren’t sure you’d wake up.”

“[Name]? Was that - did you squeeze my hand?”

“It’s okay. It’s meant to be there, it’s helping you breathe.”

“Can you hear me?”

“You.. you were so close to dying. I was scared.”

ACTIONS

[ GATHER ] for sender to gather receiver’s (unconscious) body into their arms, in the style of no no no not them.

[ STARING ] for sender to find receiver sitting alone staring at a wall, covered in blood, and to touch their arm.

[ WAITING ] for sender to be waiting at receiver’s hospital bedside when receiver finally comes out of a coma, or wakes from surgery.

[ STEADY ] for sender to catch or steady receiver when receiver tries to stand up too early or to push their body past what it’s ready for

[ TEARS ]  for receiver to find tears on sender’s face, when they’re finally reunited (either immediately after the trauma, or waking up in a hospital), because sender thought receiver was dead or dying

[ GRIEF ]  for receiver to wake up just as sender is saying goodbye, because the doctors told them to. feel free to specify what they might be saying. do not judge me, this is going in the meme

[ LETTER ] for sender to find a last letter, video, text, etc that receiver made for them, thinking they wouldn’t make it out of the situation alive. Obviously receiver does make it out alive, but the letter/video still exists (and receiver will detail what’s in it).

Aurelius wasn’t sure he would ever become accustomed to the feeling of apparition, the twist in his gut churning, but at least he managed to stay on his feet as they arrived at their destination, with only a mild sense of nausea and the brief loss of colour from his already pale cheeks. Sure, getting to places instantaneously was definitely a draw, but it was still not the most pleasant manner of doing things. Still, he wasn’t going to complain too much about it.

Their surroundings were unlike anything he had seen before, and for a split second all thought of their true purpose for coming here vanished from his mind, replaced instead by fascination. This place was old, he could feel it in his bones, and he was in awe, letting dark eyes roam across the landscape, taking in the fallen rubble, the canopy of trees, the ruined fountain.

There was something oddly beautiful about it, in his opinion.

Ophiucus wasn’t entirely wrong either when he said the obscurus might find some comfort here. Aurelius could feel it beneath his skin, practically keening in interest, dark tendrils of smoke already seeming to seep through his skin, coiling around his wrists, his shoulders, his head, intermingling with dark strands of hair. His eyes appeared clouded over, milky white for a few moments before he slowly closed them, tilting his head back before…

Darkness erupted with a primal howl, the young man seeming to disintegrate into thousands of pieces as the obscurus took over. Though it seemed to be close enough to the same size, more or less, it almost seemed to be more concentrated, more controlled and refined, flickers of red coursing through the black as it slammed into a nearby tree, then down into a pile of rubble, sending some stone splintering into the air.

And there it was, bursting forth from its host. Salazar had hoped that with MASTERY over the craft, it would shrink it size. That perhaps learning magic he had been forbidden from practicing, perhaps it had weakened the parasite. He was fascinated by it. That didn’t mean he wanted it to DESTROY the boy. Aurelius’ survival thus far had been a display on its own how powerful he was, how powerful he COULD be with the right guidance. It would be quite the accomplishment to destroy the obscurus entirely and rid the host of parasite. While he was curious to see it in action, he was all the more curious on how it could be STOPPED. Countless of their kind in ancient times had fallen victim to such a thing in fear of the Muggles. How much more power could he gain with knowledge of how to ‘cure’ such an affliction?

Alas, it was the same mass of chaos, of pure magic taking form. Perhaps learning magic had allowed a greater control judging based off the appearance of it but not enough to halt it just yet. Salazar was left to wonder just how much TIME the boy had left? How much longer before he succumbed and was to weak to even practice magic? Healthy as he may be now, it could happen at any point. A turn for the worse—— all because some horrible Muggle had decided to PUNISH him for what he had been born as. Something he could not help. The founder was almost disappointed he hadn’t killed her right then and there when he first came across Aurelius but even by then, it had been too LATE.

As rubble was thrown around, shards of both stone and wooden splinters flying through the air, Salazar gave a small wave of his hand to cast a shield for the shrapnel. They turned to dust as they neared him though he doubted such a weak shield would be much against the obscurus. But it had not attacked him as he sat at the center and a prime target. He wasn’t a THREAT like others were. He wouldn’t even raise a wand or his hand against the mass of darkness flying through the air. Instead, green eyes simply WATCHED it. Waiting for it to still and be finished.

After approximately fifteen minutes of thrashing back and forth, it finally began to still, coalescing along the side of a tree, roiling almost gently around the bark. Though the mass had no eyes, it almost seemed as if it turned to look at Salazar, flickers of red and white more muted now but still slicing through the black mass.

At the man's words, the obscurus let out a keening howl, seeming to restrict a little in size. It did not want its boy to hurt, did not want its boy to die, but all it knew was how to survive in the moment. Its boy had been so scared, so angry, and it had protected him for years, doing its best to end those who threatened him harm.

It wasn’t entirely uncommon to have some of the members of his own house try to have a go at him. As such, in truth it was honestly a miracle he was even having lunch in the great hall. A lot of the time he would take some food and go and hide out in the library or elsewhere in order to be alone, where he wouldn’t be interrupted with his book and where he wouldn’t have to deal with the assholes he already shared a dormitory or common room with.

He quite liked his own company, though he supposed it could get a little bit lonely from time to time. Then again, he’d been accustomed to being on his own at home even before he’d come to Hogwarts, with his father being absent at best. Friends weren’t something that had ever really happened to him, much to his dismay.

Of course, he was familiar with Edward Munson, at least in principle. He knew of his family, had heard his father mention them in the past, and he’d heard more than enough about the older boy’s reputation in the school, along with his little club, which certainly seemed more rowdy than anything he was used to.

“Uh…” he blinked slowly in confusion, briefly glancing sideways at the others who were now backing off a little, before turning back to Eddie with a slightly uncertain frown, “Why?”

Eddie seemed to thrive in being seen as the disappointment and a disgrace to the name of a pureblood wizard. He was an outcast in his own house and he loved it. It made him feel like he won something. 

Brown eyes hid their intent best they could. His usual curly long hair was tied back in a ponytail.  One thing Eddie was, is he could be very unpredictable given his hyper nature. Still he resumed his more calm if not happy expression to not startle the boy.

The question did make him blink and stare before thinking, “well, the more of us there are, the less likely we can be singled out.” He points out and looks at each of his own group of outcasts. Each looking uncertain to, withdrawn. Edward looked at them, “I know lost little sheep in need of a herd of friends when I see one.” He beams.

“Oh- or unless you think I’m in on some prank or crap? Nope no nada! Not good ol’ Eddie!” He stepped on the bench and sat on the table. “You look so lonely here, man. Give it a few days, just a few. If we are not what you’re looking for you can leave, we won’t bother you again.” He looked so hopeful. “Our names don’t matter in our group either. Nor our blood, muggle born or purest of blood don’t matter, we’re all equal.” He was hopeful, just hopeful that that alone didn’t get a disgusted look like he sometimes got.

Facing his father was difficult enough as it was. The man didn't even bother to hide his disappointment that his son hadn't become a younger copy himself. No, Corvus Lestrange the younger was far more interested in studying the art of healing, in consuming knowledge, than he was in the dark arts, in torture and cruelty.

Credence was both relieved and baffled to hear Mr Scamander’s voice come from inside the case. It seemed so bizarre to him that he could be in there, that there were stairs in there as well. What else could be hiding in what seemed like a perfectly ordinary and relatively small suitcase?

A little uncertainly and with quite a considerable amount of awkwardness, Credence slowly climbed onto the chair and then into the case, gripping onto the ladder tightly as he descended. It went on longer than he expected before his feet finally reached solid ground and he let himself turn and take in the sight.

It was huge. Dark eyes widened and looked up and around himself, taking in all the shelves stacked high and Mr Scamander standing in front of him, Dougal perched beside him and a…piece of paper and a quill hovering in mid-air?

  In truth, the storage room was little more than a glorified garden shed. Wooden floors and walls that only served to separate the space and keep Newt’s stocks out of range of the more hoggish creatures in his care, with neither insulation nor fancy design elements. Despite his current supply shortage, the open shelves bent under the weight of jars and boxes filled with a myriad of food items. Wheat, oats, lentils, beans, potatoes, chestnuts, mushrooms, ginger roots, carrots, honey, dead beetles, worms, crickets– even the ceiling was stacked. Bundles of dried lavender, basil, lemongrass and chili filled the air with pleasant aroma. The room seemed organised, but not terribly tidy.

  Along one side of the shelf Dougal was sitting on, a strange purple vine with pink flowers snaked its way down from the upper level and over to the cooling chamber. Newt flicked his fingers against one of the leaves reaching for the door handle, and the plant quickly coiled back in on itself. From the open door on the other side of the room, the distant sound of singing birds and wind rustling through treetops wafted into the room.

  “This is where I keep most of the food for my creatures”, Newt explained as Credence climbed down the steps of the ladder.

Or something like that anyway.

Mr Scamander spoke about his creatures, but Credence wasn't entirely sure just what he meant by that. Of course he'd seen Dougal, and the little black creature that had stumbled upon him last night, and the little one that seemed to reside in Mr Scamander's coat, but he didn't actually know what any of them were. Was it just them? Did he have more? Surely this case couldn't be all that much bigger?

“We’re going to die here.“

“Well, that killed the mood.”

“What’s going on? You lied to me.“

“The walls move. Everything changes.“

“She’s threatening me with a chair leg.“

“Did you just say ‘it’s okay, we’re nice’?“

“Oh, look at you. Oh, you are beautiful.“

“You’re possessed. You’d say anything.“

“Okay, I need everyone to shut up, now.“

“Well, not today. No one else dies today.“

“Okay, whatever that is, it’s not real, yeah?“

“Well, apart from anything else, that’s just rude.”

“This could be the most exciting thing I have ever seen.”

“Well, they certainly didn’t mention that in the brochure.“

“Now, tragic though that is, this is no time for sentiment.“

“I must have passed out, because suddenly I was here.”

“I’m sorry, I just have to see what it is. I just have to see.“

“Could I have a lift? Just to the nearest galaxy would do.“

“Chances are, if you hand me over, he’ll leave you alone.”

“And while we wait, people keep dying. And we’ll be next.“

“Then, you realize it could have never been anything else.”

“This is what happened to the others. It’s all so clear, now.“

“I don’t know. Something must have yanked us off course.“

“Are you kidding? He’s going to kill us all. How cool is that?“

“I won’t leave you. I promise you. You have my word on that.”

“This is not Earth. This has just been made to look like Earth.“

“This is what happened to the others, and how lucky they were.“

“I can’t save you from this… There’s nothing I can do to stop this.“

“What kind of things? Interesting things? I love things, ask anyone.”

“No, I’m sure it isn’t… but, just in case, let’s run away and hide anyway.“

“How can you be excited about a rubbish hotel on a rubbish bit of Earth?“

“But, don’t tell him I said that, because the smugness would be terrifying.“

“I’ve never been threatened with a chair leg before. No, hang on, I tell a lie.”

“Why is it up to you to save us? That’s quite a God complex you have there.“

“What does it matter? Sooner or later, someone will come along and rescue us.“

“That’s what I don’t understand… Aside from all the other things I don’t understand.“

“And what’s the alternative? Me standing over your grave? Over your broken body?“

“If we can wedge a chair under the door handles, that should stop anything from getting in.“

“No, it’s amazing you’ve come up with a theory even more insane than what’s actually happening.“