headed straight for the witches' castle

[groundrules]

Welcome to the bashful event covering 17 September – 9 October, working double duty as a test drive meme (TDM).

Existing players can strut their stuff here, or make separate logs & network posts. Our TDMing guests are stranded in this playground, but can include network options among play prompts.

If you’re test driving a character, you can apply them until 8 October without a game invite. Apps stay open beyond that, but you might need an invite or please get in touch @ groundrules to figure something out..

SCALE THE TOWER

---

Cousins Macaluso and Vannozza Spina vie for the favour of the witches of Bessis, in their bid to succeed their grandfather Bonaccorso as liege of magical citadel Taravast. In exchange for their endorsement, the Bessis have asked both electoral candidates to present extraordinary sorcery at a fete commemorating the Bessis truce with fellow court witches of Attaryl.

On the day of the distasteful masque held in the upper levels of the Bessis tower, characters assigned to support Macaluso and Vannozza will split into two espionage missions — one upstairs alongside courtiers, charlatans and the Bessis, and another deep below, crossing abandoned aqueducts. Characters can participate in either effort, but should be discreet if they’re working against their patron.

It’s all fun and games if you’re enjoying Bessis hospitality upstairs — test drive characters might be rating their hotel stay a little less enthusiastically.

TDM TOURISTS | UPSTAIRS (TEAM MACALUSO) | DOWN BELOW (TEAM VANNOZZA) | COMMON TIMELINE | NOTES & MAP



TDM TOURISTS

Days ago, you woke up sequestered in an immense bird cage, chained near the ceiling of a tall, dark room that once served as a library or academic hall. Imprisoned with you are several strangers, equally warded from their supernatural powers and partly sedated — all the better to amuse the nearly two dozen (visibly) undead who roam the room, despite being loosely fettered to posts. They often swing for your cage, but fail to reach it.

■ Sorcerer sentries briefly release characters daily to feed or bathe in a repurposed nearby quarter with a large pool.

■ Characters receive basic devices that translate speech and writing, so they can understand their caretakers’ instructions. All along, the guards urge, Keep the animals distracted.

■ The undead reek of burning and wail their hurts. They are gifted in telepathy and often mentally share memories of carnage — two armies of sorcerers, one raining fire upon its enemies. At night, the undead seek to control the minds of caged characters, luring them to come down or harm others.

■ Necromancers sometimes visit to study the undead. The latest necromancer guest temporarily immobilises the creatures and throws three bundles of identical keys into the cage — he reveals he is employed by a Merchant, who wants the outsiders to travel east and return to their homes. They are currently in Taravast, captives of the witches of Bessis, who hold annual celebrations tonight. The keys will help with escaping the cage and accessing nearby tunnels.

■ The necromancer leaves behind rope, two daggers, and three potion vials that generate mist once smashed on the ground. Leave within an hour of your dinner, he says, before releasing the undead from his magic.

■ Get out. As soon as you can, running like hell from guards and the undead. If caught, the undead will rip you to bathe in your body’s waters and ease their burns.

■ The underground tower tunnels are patrolled by guards, who can be overpowered by groups. Characters will recover any supernatural powers within 40 minutes of leaving their prison. Escape tip? Steal the guards’ clothes.

■ The tunnels inevitably lead to the aqueducts, allowing you to meet Vannozza’s group.

» GET WET



UPSTAIRS

The halls of the Bessis sprawl over a pristine ivory tower, whose walls refract light in homage to the witches’ devotion to fire.

The tower receives guests today to celebrate the armistice between the sorcery schools of Bessis and Attaryl. The two groups futilely sought to slaughter each other many moons ago, with the Bessis notoriously gaining the upper hand — explaining the tense smiles of the Attaryl witches on premise.

The event is a standard Taravast masque: if there were coin to spare, someone poured it into the obscene dining displays and alcoholic fountains. Enjoy dimmed lights, the rare pickpocket or recreational narcotic — or test your luck at gambling tables, where winners can claim a forcibly extorted secret from losers over games of dice or cards.

Come masked and visibly unarmed — weapons are confiscated at the doors. Smuggle them in. Just outside the tower, take a walk through labyrinthine walled gardens surrounding a deep water moat and leading to abandoned aqueduct pipelines.

OF NOTE:

■ Magical sentries — armed with swords and fire spells — watch the banquet halls, stairs and outside grounds.

■ Bessis practitioners showcase fire, wind, water and air dances in the reception halls, along with performing token duels. Get involved, if you want.

■ Don Urbano, a respected Bessis sorcerer returned from abroad, announces his betrothal with Wen Qing, as orchestrated and financed by Beitang Moran.

■ Come sundown, Macaluso invites fete guests, Vannozza and the Bessis to join him on the balconies and behold the canal moats, where swims his recently captured white dragon. The creature is magnificent but tense, its ice power crackling.

ASSIGNMENTS:

■ Run recon of the halls. Keep track of guards, divert them from the aqueducts and alert your friends downstairs of their presence. Be obnoxious, loud and attention-grabbing when sentries get near the opened aqueduct entrance.

■ One of the night’s most profligate gamblers, Caterina Zalle, leads a coalition that produces magical weapons. She is allegedly in talks with forces abroad that fight their undead oppressors. Even tipsy, she only speaks with those who best her at the gambling table — pair up and figure out how to cheat improve your chances, then drop a line here to win donna Caterina’s answer(s).

» SMILE AND CARRY ON



DOWN BELOW

A jaded spirit, Vannozza knows Macaluso’s historical patronage of the Bessis makes them unlikely to favour her. Better to take advantage of leaked information: the Bessis hide a secret that’s required them to mysteriously invite necromancers each day. Learn what the Bessis are shrouding, so Vannozza can extort them later.

The lady offers her protegees — and anyone dragged along for the ride — a map to abandoned aqueducts accessible through the sentry-patrolled gardens that surround the tower of the Bessis. Guards will be thinner at the start of the evening festivities, but keep in touch with your counterparts upstairs, who can distract them while you infiltrate.

■ The aqueducts can be entered through a shielded gateway that will require characters to dig extensively for access. Divert the guards creatively: use magic, tricks, everyone is a hapless beggar or a drunk...

■ The intricate waterways once served Bessis sorcerers who specialise in water arts. The pipelines range from roomy and rusted to highly claustrophobic and slick with a coating of dark tar that gradually starts to follow you.

■ You find out quickly why the pipes were abandoned: the tar starts to accrue behind you, taking your shape and diplomatically doing its best to choke or drown you. Luckily, the creatures disperse after scant minutes — characters who traversed the Stairs of Sighs will recognise this is the same molten tar found in the rocky corridors.

■ Brace yourselves — for a short stretch, the canal dips into the moat surrounding the tower, home to Macaluso’s dragon. The creature is currently peaceful, but its constant chill has largely frozen the waters. Swim across the moat through ice pellets to re-enter the canals.

■ The aqueducts ease characters into pool quarters, which show signs of recent use for bathing. In the nearby corridors, guards are posted before a room that erupts in frequent howls. Get in, somehow —

■ ...and find a large study hall with an immense suspended cage, a series of freshly freed newcomers and undead witches, who use telepathy, levitation and light mind control to their advantage.

■ Now, you take your newcomer fools, choose between returning through the aqueducts or daring the heavily guarded tower corridors — and you run.

» UP WE GO



EVERYONE TOGETHER NOW

Nothing spices a party like nearly two dozen undead witches that seek to salve their burn wounds with the blood of the living. Some undead invade the banquet halls, others the gardens, while a few head into the aqueducts. They use telepathy, levitation and mind control diligently — and wear the decayed insignia of witches of Attaryl.

The chaos and the undead that enter the moat agitate the water dragon, who goes on hours of rampage, breathing sheets and walls of ice around the tower and effectively locking everyone within for two-three days.

...with the wandering undead. The witches of Bessis assist with fire magic and torches, but it’s every man for himself. Beware: the dragon starts with magical attacks, but quickly progresses to throwing itself bodily to topple the tower.

TO-DO LIST:

■ Calm or immobilise the berserk dragon to ease the ice storms
■ Capture the fire-fearing undead
■ Protect and evacuate Taravast’s useless 1%
■ Stay alive?

NOTES & MAP

■ Old timers: GO HERE to vote on the fates of the dragon and later, the undead! And ask any questions you might have.

■ TDMers: TDM events count as game canon if you app in! TDM questions here.

Comments

DONNA CATERINA

[groundrules]

Drop a link here to your thread where you've finessed the art of.. cheating a good woman out of her secrets, and a NPC thread will happen for you. Feel bad. Feel very bad. You're cheating at the noble art of gambling.

hermione granger (hp)

[reparo]

(for the fellow tourists) birds of a feather

[The first night is hard. The undead reek, and their thoughts travel in ways that reek of Dark Arts, for which she spends the entire night with her fingers in her ears and her eyes closed, reciting passages of Hogwarts: A History under her breath to calm down, then passages of Beedle the Bard. She read that book from front to back in the last six months, trying to figure out why Dumbledore would've gifted her anything in his will, trying to figure out how she would help Harry, if she could help Harry.

(Also, as an aside: does she not deserve a break? Months on the run, her parents Obliviated and in Australia, and surviving the Battle at Hogwarts and what's her reward? Waking up locked up in a strange place with an army of undead beneath the cage that holds her? Madness!)

(As another aside: she might lose her mind.)

And yes, in conclusion, the first night is hard. The next day, they are given crystals, and in any other world, Hermione would marvel at the magic that imbues them, something that lets her understand her captors - and her fellow-prisoners - at last, except for the fact that what she hears is blood curling.]

Hey - hey - we are not animals! [Reckless. So foolish. Shouted at the guard - snapped really - before she can even stop and think. She realises, from the look she gets, that her words went in one ear and went out through the other. With a huff, she jostles the crystal, and tries to get it to work in reverse, make it translate her to them, still speaking it clearly:] We are not animals. Release us. We are not animals - release us. We are not - argh, bloody baubles!

(for everyone) escaaaaaaaaaaaape

[She's free - she's running. If a few days prior, she would have been upset to be on the run again, at this stage she is grateful to be free, and grateful she gets to run. So she starts running, her pulse skyrocketted, adrenaline high. Under her breath, the desperate plan:]

Get the wand, get out, get the wand - [Oh - no - she's running. The wand, the guards - she saw it in a box with belongings of the other prisoners, probably mistaken for a stick, and she'll be damned if she leaves this place without it. She stops mid-run, does a one-eighty degree turn and sorts through the group of fellow cage-dwellers on her way back into the room they were just freed from.

She sees that look, you!] It's fine, keep going! I just need to get my wand - and then I'll help!

e s c a p e

[downswing]

[ The guards, the dead, the girl, the riot —; outside, the spell of white, thundered sound and the thrashing that quivers stone walls, and he knows, in the belly of the tower, on stairs descending to the prison halls, knows the dragon creature's unleashed itself.

Too many steps, brittle and spiked energy and the crackle of fire as the witches come alive in the corridor. The dead descend on them — in this, hand steady on his sword, pose serpentine before the strike, Lan Wangji is fortunate. Their pursuers are different from the dead of before, faster, more predatory. Lan Wangji pivots, nearly sets to strike, but then...

...one of the girls who had swum in the crowd of manic-stricken, white bright-eyed fleeing prisoners turns in her path. Fights to carve her way back, where the flood of dead proves unending, and Lan Wangji raises his sheathed sword, Bichen's iced gleam warning, introducing it to the side as barrier, to cut the girl's advance. Listen: ]

They will bar your path. [ No, she is young in this, they are always young before slaughter. He must speak the plainer for it: ] They will savage you.

[reparo]

You are barring my path. [Snapped, impatiently, and definitely unkindly, because there is a sword in the way, and she can't walk through a sword. But the direction she is facing now - which is decidedly back, where she was minutes ago, looks grim and dangerous, and she might be the only fool trying to go back.

It's a stick, Hermione, it's just a stick.

She looks - makes brief eye contact with her would-be barrier, then nearly twitches in the direction again, a longing in her chest. Brightest witch of her age and you can't even handle magic without a stick?

There's defeat between her shoulder blades now, a tight knot. She sighs.] If I get to the guards' room, I can get my wand - I can fight the witches too.

[downswing]

[ She singes. Of women who would have their way, this is their instinct: jaw tight, tongue sharpened, their ache coiled and turned hard-tipped against you. He bars her path. So be it, arm strong and his sword held high, a wall raised amid stench of molten plaster and burning curtain velvets, of flesh shrivelled and the wails of the dead who remember enough of their humanity to yield animal sounds.

He flinches only once when a fright-stricken guest of the fete draws his axe out and rushes past, to meet a howled end at the claws of the incoming dead. Crossfire: so many of them have meddled and mingled in the ill-lit corridor that they assault one another without test or inspiration. ]

Weapons — [ And the grit of his teeth, grip on the hilt of her, Bichen< his soul fractioned — ] Can yet be recovered. Substituted.

[ Hypocrisy drenches him. Would he not turn for Bichen, were the blade lost to him, once again, thereafter? Irrelevant. This girl's instrument might house her affection — but it need not cost her life. ]

You cannot go alone.

[reparo]

[The bloody fight between someone and the undead is going to stay with her now. She's facing it when it happens, witnesses it in front row, a gruesome spectacle. Worse than the battle, and also not; back there - what, days ago from her perspective? - it had been friends falling victims to killing curses, and she had been surrounded by allies, and she had known the world and where she stood in it and how to fight in it.

And here, she doesn't even know for a fact if the wand - if her magic - will work.

There is no such place as Taravast on Earth, so wherever she is... If she wants to get back, she has to head East. Not die here.

She looks towards the barrier man again, and gives him a very brief nod.]

I cannot ask you to come with me. [A dying groan from the undead a little way away in the hallway.] And - alright, I don't actually want to die. It's just - it's just a stick! [A little hysterical laugh here, then she gives the stranger a serious, solemn look.]

If you see a fallen witch holding one, tell me.

[That said, however, she's ready to keep running.]

[downswing]

You have not asked.

[ And still, he shrouds her, Bichen unveiling like a silvered eye, weeping cold light in lone warning — the sword speaks of fire in the lost tongue of dangers that the dead still understand. They do not plunge for the blade, but two tense like taut string beside the walls, watching from the corner of unseeing eyes, before seeking purchase of their fresher prey, claws rattling the rib cage of a man collapsed, bringing out the thick rope of his intestines.

Lan Wangji looks away first, sickened by the blasphemy of assault without purpose, without result. This is no war, to name one man victor, the other righteously succumbed, and the greater cause served. They do not fight before the heavens.

Unbidden, he steps forward first, calling the girl behind with the wave of a hand, disrupting the crowd with his sword to gain passage — hoping she will know to keep the pace with him, in the spreading pools of blood. Back, and the corridor only tightens like wet ribbon here, grows small, and their odds of traversing discreetly lesson. He cannot watch her back. ]

Grip me if they assault your back. [ He hesitates, walks on. ] We seek what manner of... wood?

[ No. Surely not. But she says, a stick. ]

klaus hargreeves | the umbrella academy

[imprudency]

a gilded cage: tourists;

[ To say that he's woken up in stranger, more obscure places before is not an understatement. In fact, he'd wager that waking up, kept in a chained cage with the occasional scream and moan of the disfigured undead around him? Not so bad. ]

You're a real peach, you know. [ He laughs, sing song and low in his throat as he tips his head back against the bars. The comment is directed at one of the necromancers who mostly ignores him and allows one of the undead to give an angry shove at the cage. ] The sedatives really take the edge off, and the chains, darling, all you had to do was ask. No respect at all.

[ Another push, another swing and Klaus wonders if he'll throw up whatever is left of his stomach. Last week's (read: months and months) alcohol is doing its number on him and though the sedatives give him a warm, pleasant sort of high, it does nothing for the shakes and the sweats.

It does nothing for the god awful things in the cage with them. He becomes more and more unsettled by their wails, and no matter how tightly he closes his eyes in between taunts, they don't Stop. Images drift in and out of his head, and he groans, turning to look at the next unsuspecting victim. At least he can talk over the noise. ]

They go through all this trouble to play kinky in zombie land and they don't even give us the good stuff. I mean we've got Belinda over there with the missing jaw, and I don't know what is going on with John and Suzie over there but they should really get that looked at. Had a case myself once, the itching was terrible.

run boy run: the escape - open

[ The moment the necromancer drops the keys, Klaus scrambles. There's no calling the troops, no organizing his fellow cage-mates, there's just the adrenaline of fear and panic that has him fumbling his way out. He barely recalls the rope, the mist, the panic. The wails of the undead make his skin crawl, and for a foolish moment he raises his hands, blinks his eyes open and shut a few times, and sucks in a deep breath. Maybe, maybe, he can rally a different kind of troop.

No answer. He stares at his hands, dumbfounded, and tries again, before he's shoved by another newcomer. ]

Shit, shit, shit.

[ Panic claws its way up his throat. Too many days without something to numb out the noise and suddenly the chaos makes his skin crawl. One guard swings at a cage dweller and he swings back, flooring the guard and immediately having to dodge the swipe of one of the undead. ]

Sheesh, don't you think you're coming on a little strong? [ He kicks one square in the chest as it lunges again, and he turns to run the moment he hears doors open, the moment there's a way out. He springs for it, and when he hears a very human wail behind him (one of the undead ripping a cage deweller apart) he all but slams into someone else round the bend and falls, scrambling to get back to his feet amid thundering escapees around him. He raises his hands up over his ears when another scream echoes out, shrill and agonized, and he realizes the sedatives are slowly beginning to wear off. He's not really looking at the other person as he pushes up to his knees, his feet. ]

Fuck. Love to stay and chat but we have to go.

lorna dane | the gifted

[chromiums]

BIRDS OF A FEATHER

TOURISTS

[ it's not the first prison lorna's been subjected to, and she reacts about as well to this one as she did with the others. the first few hours lead to her rising unsteadily to her feet to try charging at the walls of the cage, but the movement makes her nauseous, her head spinning and vision tilting, every step forward feeling as if she's moving underwater. the reek of the decomposing creatures swinging at her and the rest of the prisoners doesn't help, but worse than the nausea is the lack of her ability, the usual undercurrent of metal detection totally absent no matter how hard she tries to reach for it.

there's no collar constricting her throat, but she's still being sedated, kept from being able to fight and save herself, and more than that she doesn't recognize anyone here. they'd followed clarice, and that's the last thing she remembers from home. is this where she'd lead them? if it is, why is she the only one here?

is she the only one of the underground left alive? ]

ESCAPE (part one, tourists)

[ no matter how angry or frightened you are, you learn to recognize how to cope with different prisons, if only to retain your own sanity so you don't fall victim to them. the telepathic projections are a shock at first, and lorna nearly vomits from the assault on her senses, but after a few months of living with telepaths she's learned a few things about tuning projections of thoughts that aren't hers out. after a while, they're a nuisance, but not debilitating anymore.

the necromancers come by, tossing them keys and weapons and explaining why they're here and how to get out, and lorna's eyebrows raise as she listens. to her credit, she doesn't lunge for the daggers right away, but she gets her hands on one eventually, tucking it into her sleeve. even without her ability to manipulate metal, she's still pretty handy with a blade.

another prisoner spots her, and she nods to them, another raised eyebrow turned onto them. ]

You're welcome to the rope, if you want it.

ESCAPE (part two, open)

[ lorna's not the one who drops the vials and starts the escape. she's not sure who is. but she's ready for it when it starts, ducking to pull up whoever might be seated or not paying attention and pushing them towards the exit. ]

This is our chance, run! Don't let them touch you!

[ once a few people are ahead of her, she follows, the dagger slipping out of her sleeve to slash at the limbs of the guards who try to reach for her and whoever's running with her or behind her. she tries to avoid the throats of the guards, to draw the undead to them instead of the prisoners, and she doesn't look behind her when she hears them scream as their flesh gets torn apart.

maybe it should bother her. it doesn't. her only focus is getting herself and as many people as possible out of danger. ]

WILDCARD (open)

[ feel free to mix and match to make things work for you! ]

run boy run

[rumorate]

[The body collides with hers, and it feels almost like the wind's been taken out of her. As all the people rushing out, trying to get away - not that he blames them. Who keeps zombies in a basement?

... Actually, the basement may be the best place to keep zombies. Better question: who stores live people in a basement full of zombies?

When she recovers and looks up to meet the eyes of the other person, annoyance is immediately replaced with delight.]

Klaus?

[He's not wrong, they have to go, but she wants to make sure it's him.]

escape!

[lancifolium]

[ Wand?

Lily had been so focused on covering their retreat that she nearly misses the word being used by someone further up ahead, and the surprise of it causes her to trip over her own feet. She had become used to being anomalous in this world for her use of a wand, and hearing someone else asking of one sent a ripple of hope through her. Merlin's beard they even sounded English.

Regaining her footing as the young woman moving against the flow of the rest of the group came into view Lily darted to her side. ]

I can help you.

[ Giving the stranger a solemn nod she held up her own wand before tilting her head in the direction they had come from. ]

Let's go.

[imprudency]

[ He's heard and seen so much, flashes of agony and death and pain from the undead, that he nearly believes he's just made up her voice in a sad attempt at comfort. Allison always suffered him gladly, and to think she could be here beside him in all of this?

It's as horrifying as it is comforting. But he looks up into the face of the person he's collided with, and — ]

Al? Is it really you?

[ Weary, hoarse, he stares at her in disbelief. He reaches to grip her hands, but startles when he hears another scream among the thundering feet. This is no poolside reunion with cigarettes and margaritas, no. He closes his eyes tight again, the way those things tug at his mind making his stomach churn. ]

Shit. Come on. Hope you got your running shoes on because those pumps would do you no favors here.

[rumorate]

[If only. The party upstairs would have been much more their style, but in some ways, Allison is glad that she was here. Picking up her brother would certainly be much higher on the priority list than kissing Vannozza's ass.]

Don't worry. I figured this would get messy.

[It's not far to where she and Diego split up to cover more ground, and they should find him so that he doesn't fall victim to all of this too. She squeezes his hand tightly, before starting to weave through the people to the exit.]

C'mon. I know the way out.

[imprudency]

[ Allison being in this mess does nothing to settle his frayed nerves. While he's not always the debonair, organized leader of their family, he cares about them. His sisters, especially, and knowing she's in all of this, too? It makes him wonder if the others ended up here, and just how horribly the time traveling went wrong this time.

He holds tightly to her hand and follows after her, shouldering his way through. She feels real, she sounds real, and for now, he determines that she is. Especially if it gets him out of here. ]

How long have you been here? This doesn't seem like your first rodeo. [ She moves with the confidence of someone that's been here a while, not someone who was just dropped into some wild cage-zombie-fantasy. Then, even though he sounds exhausted, he sighs: ] And we're definitely not in Kansas anymore.

birds of a feather

[leviable]

Oi. ( there’s movement in the corner and a thin hand appears out of the shadows, one finger pointing directly at the girl who’s been making all that noise. )

Are you trying to get us all killed? ( levi had been remaining still for hours now in an attempt to conserve his energy. he'd been bidding his time -- waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. now that the sedation's worn off and his disorientation's gone, he's ready to come up with a plan for an escape. because fuck this shit. )

Quit bringing attention to yourself. ( his voice comes out somewhat raspy and broken. unlike the girl, he hasn't spoken a word since he'd found himself in this stinking hell hole. )

[reparo]

The kind that produces magic. It's - like a focus. [It's difficult to explain wands to someone who's never seen them, and run from the undead and the guards at the same time. Nevermind that it violates the statute of secrecy - sod the statute of secrecy right now, because wherever she is, she doubts Aurors are going to show up and whisk her away. In fact, she'd even prefer it, but that's something to try another day.

She keeps up with the man, simply because she's been running for so long this past year that the pace doesn't surprise her.]

Oh, god. [She walks faster past the blood and the corpses, trying to not look, trying to not remember them, shoulders tense and jaw clenched. Not the right time to have a panic, definitely.

So she latches onto something safe and known: asking questions.]

You - are very good with that. Is it a magic sword?

[reparo]

[She might not recognise the woman who speaks, but she recognises the wand she brandishes, immediately. Hermione's heart leaps, and a fragile sort of hope blossoms in her.]

You're a witch!

[Of course there's also the other part. The smile. Recognition - familiarity!] Oh thank Merlin, I thought I was making a mess out of explaining wands.

[At this point, though, after a very reasonable human barrier has made the fine point that backwards lies danger, she's no longer keen to drag anyone towards mortal peril for the sake of a wand.]

This place - this city, wherever it is, can I get one anywhere else? [There are spellcasters all around, surely someone will have heard of wandmaking? And then it hits her, all of a sudden - the box was open last she saw it, and this here is a witch.

You're a witch, Hermione!]

Can you accio it?!

[reparo]

[Ask her how much she likes being scolded in general. She stops shouting towards the guards, at least - and they, thankfully, ignore her for the most part anyway, safe for a word about how the food is chatty - but now her disgruntlement is directed towards the rude person.

Alright, let's not call him rude. He's been locked up here with her - benefit of the doubt. Maybe not rude.

She shrugs in answer, but speaks to him, rather than to the whole room.]

It's been a rough day.

a gilded cage

[reparo]

[Next to Klaus sits a witch, who is being reminded right now that she has the tiniest bit of vertigo, and that this is the reason she doesn't fly if she can help it. The undead are playing with their food, and she has run out of things to recite as a distraction, so when Klaus speaks, she pays attention.

And it just so happens that what he says makes her let out a snort of laughter that surprises even herself, followed by more.]

Do you get tied up in these situations often?

[leviable]

( a rough few years more like it. the last thing he remembers is fighting the beast titan and unleashing his anger on the monster. they'd lost so many men during that battle. who knows how many even survived. so far, he's yet to see a single familiar face in this strange dark room they're all trapped in. )

It'll get worse. ( how can it get better? just look around them. what the hell are these creatures? they smell of rot. it's like he's back in the underground again -- the one place he never wanted to revisit. )

Where are you from?

[downswing]

[ A stick of magic. A sword of magic. Perhaps, the next breath raw when sulphur and smoke strip it, their heartbeat of magic also.

They cut path — injuries here and there, cast. He thinks, absently, he may have severed a man's limb. He flails, screams, but they all flail and scream, and before them the fumes coil, inching wet. Earlier, in the aqueduct, the slick mounted and accrued to give chase. Now, oily, it seems to coat his lungs.

At the first rattle above, he turns, empty hand hovered over the girl's wrist, not yet gaining purchase. If the ceilings of the great pipes collapse, no sword can fight debris, however willing —

But no. Only sound. Only vibration. He hesitates, but resumes their course. ]

Do you speak for fear or habit?

[ He does not say, To excess.. Cannot stay her, but at least appease his mind. ]

[reparo]

[Her heart clenches tight at the thought, an actual pain her her chest, but Hermione pushes through, trying to answer just the question - trying to not latch onto the pessimism.

She's survived the war. She survived Bellatrix, Dolohov, and hell - even Umbridge. She can get out of this one.]

England. Yourself?

[reparo]

[Well that is...perceptive.] Oh - fear. [She's just a little embarrassed to admit it, but given the fact that they're sorting through rubble and bodies, maybe she can be cut some slack.

Fighting Death Eaters hadn't been easy either, and those got taken out with curses - not cuts that bled everywhere.]

My friends would probably say habit. [Will she ever see them again? She just saw Harry come back, restored and safe and alive, she just saw Voldemort defeated, and now... To be here, on the run again, feels like someone has a vendetta against her. Fate, if she could believe in Fate.] Am I drawing attention to us?

tourists - birds of a feather

[reparo]

[She's beginning to understand why prisoners stalk to each other despite the terrifying situation they are in. Before Taravast, before this blasted cage, there was nothing she could compare it to - even in Malfoy Manor, it was Ron and Harry that ended up in the dungeons with the others, not her

(don't think about that)

- but she understands why now.

They are being fed, and told to wash, but other than that, the only interaction they could have is with each other. After all, the undead below are more into forcing thoughts into their heads than having a spirited debate.

Hermione finds herself at Lorna's side one of those days, pulling out a parcel wrapped in fabric, and offering her a dry biscuit.]

Might help with the nausea.

[downswing]

[ Habits. The worst — the Wei Ying — of creatures. But there is familiarity in this, playing escort for those lessened of their natural advantage, learning the arc of their sways, how they bare their backs or bellies at each step to weakness. She has no shielding, no training. If she stepped within an armoury once, it would have been to take the measure of the room, the libery, the curtains.

No matter. As weights go, she looks threadbare. Portable, should crippling strike her. He spares only the corner-eyes' vantage — bony, but taken from hip and beneath her arms, she can be carried to a pittance of trouble. Contingency plans.

For now, walk on, between grit and rabble, mindful of the slip of his footing. ]

A dragon draws attention to us. [ Dry, empty. ] What will your stick of magic achieve?