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Post by Trevor Williams on Mar 18, 2015 18:37:01 GMT -8
Monday, March 5, 2012
9:00 p.m.
Trevor hadn't had so long a day since the day his girls had not appeared at the train station. The days that had followed had gone by slowly as well, but time had picked up again since the potentially-faked photographs of Teague had been given to him. There was mystery to solve, someone to find, something tangible and he was free to move about and search and find. But today had been slower than he could stand. He had left the old woman to go find a liquor store that was actually open so early and picked up his favorite whisky. A couple months ago it had hardly been anything to buy something this price, but now it was something that made him have to think long and hard before he spent the money. He wasn't near broke, but he had only been able to store away and transfer away so much of his own money before abdicating to avoid too much attention. It was enough, but only if he wasn't frivolous.
This was, however, a special occasion. He needed something worth the goods, and he was probably supremely lucky that this was all it would cost him. The woman was either a very good fake or truly gifted, and if she knew how to use her gift, then she was beneficial to him. Quintos Prynne was a natural, but he was trying to force things. Trevor didn't think that was the best idea, though desperate times called for desperate measures. This meeting with the old bat was another such desperate measure, but something had to work, something. had. to. The last he knew of his girls was from Seren's one useful vision, and even that was not enough to provide him anything more than motivation. His daughter, screaming, scared, afraid. It wasn't comforting to Trevor. He had worked for so many years to get her back, and now for her to be brought to the same fate yet again even though in different hands? It was too much. Trevor felt sick whenever he thought of it.
Hopefully the old lady could give him news, something that would either bring him closer or assure him Katya and Layla were both alive! He would kill for that news alone. He just wanted to know they weren't living in destitute conditions, weren't living each moment in fear for their lives. He didn't want them happy, for that implied too much, but to at least know they were safe, that no true harm had befallen them? Trevor felt the tears form in his eyes and the muscles around his nose tighten in a subconscious effort to reign them in. Not now. Not when it was a minute from nine, likely about to turn, and he was on the doorstep to the place he was to meet the lady. He needed to keep it together just a bit longer. Only the darkness was allowed to see his tears.
Trevor sniffled and rose his hand to knock. Hopefully this wasn't a mistake. |
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Post by Hilda Prewett on Mar 18, 2015 18:37:27 GMT -8
There were so many ways to see in the world. There were clouds, flour, shadows, dust, bones, entrails, numbers, palms, tea leaves, fire, crystals, cards....the list was exhaustive. Anyone could learn the techniques, but a true Seer had the Gift. Or, as she called it, the Curse. They were endowed with visions, a natural proclivity to the arts, and an inherent understanding of how to read the signs. That isn't saying that being a Seer came without training. Hilda had studied at Hogwarts and had taken Divination at her family's urging. The thought was that if she learned the techniques, she could master her 'issues' with her dreams. If anything, it had intensified them. Still, after graduation she had continued studying at the Ministry and eventually was declared a master in her field. She was treated like a celebrity, but she hadn't given in to that as an excuse to not continue her studying.
Had she remained faithful to the wizarding world, she would have attained Grand Master status in the field of Divination. Her studies crossed cultures and eras, allowing her to use techniques practically unheard of in England. All of that was a wash, however, as fear and addiction took a stronger hold over her life than many people felt comfortable confronting. Yet here she was, laying out the traditional Caribbean mat of woven sugar leaves dyed with esoteric patterns known only to the practitioners of the Hoodoo magicks. Four skin bags filled with herbs sat near censers surrounding the mat. She could see well enough, but a client always appreciated a good visual trip. A whiff of this smoke, she thought, and the gentleman knocking on the door will certainly go on a trip. A wry grin twisted her face into an even more crone like crag of misery, revealed to the man as she opened her door.
Without a word she ushered him into the dingy and dusty flat. Stacks of boxes filled with accolades, signed pictures, awards for service to the ministry, broken mirrors and tea cups, animal horns and various taxidermy cluttered the studio. A small futon was shoved against a wall near the only window in the apartment and on it sat the sphinx-like cats. They had their eyes half closed in a feline smirk, sure of themselves and their mistress. Hilda wasted no time in going over to the mat and sitting on the floor, but the motion took her some several seconds longer than her youth would have taken. Seated finally, she motioned to Trevor to sit opposite her. She still said not a word as she dumped the herbs into their braziers and lit them.
Pale fire grew and condensed into embers in each of the bronze disks that held the herbs. Copious amounts of dense and aromatic smoke rose and lingered over the mat. Seemingly from nowhere, yet likely from a stack of junk, Hilda produced a snapping turtle's shell filled with metacarpals of some unidentified animal. The bones were well marked with black ink and red dye that changed their appearance from old bone to occult mystery.
"Breathe deep and ask your question, and leave your offering by the mat. I shall throw, and we shall see." Her voice croaked in an otherworldly strength as the old woman drew upon her natural powers and prowess. Here, she was the goddess of vision. Here was she in true form, ancient and omniscient. Here, she was power. |
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Post by Trevor Williams on Mar 18, 2015 18:37:49 GMT -8
Trevor had no problem falling in step behind the woman nor did he have any issue with remaining silent. He didn't trust his voice not to waver and betray the myriad of emotions assaulting him at present. He felt overwhelmed, a fact which humbled him to some degree. He wasn't used to this, wasn't used to lacking power or control over his situation in life. He wasn't used to having to put his fate to others or eliciting help from one supposedly skilled in the art of divination. Perhaps this one was less likely to be a con artist, but he knew nevertheless not to trust her--especially after the supposedly doctored photographs that had implied Teague's involvement in the kidnapping scheme. The real culprit could be behind every lead, providing him with yet another red herring to keep him from his girls. Suspicion was a necessary component of life now more than ever before.
Trevor's focus was on everything and nothing. He saw without really seeing. The clutter was not lost on him but merely background information. His focus was too low and his nerves too high to really absorb any detail about what he was seeing, yet he was alert should anything happen. He hadn't felt his heart race so fast in quite some time.
It took Trevor a moment to register the old woman's motion for him to sit across from her, and when the prompt registered, he did so a little too quickly, too eagerly. He made a slight noise at the surprise of impact. His eyes focused on the woman, eyes open wide and pupils dilated. He took in what she said and nodded a little too enthusiastically before he did as he was asked and took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then released it. His head was too muddy to settle on any one question at the moment, so he bought some time with another deep breath. Merlin, that felt better than it had any right to.
What did he want to ask? There were so many questions he wanted answers to. Where were the girls? Were they alive? Were they safe? Were they hurt? Were they starving? Neglected? Afraid? (Seren had seemed so concerned by what she had seen of Katya.) Did they miss him? How could he find them? (By himself or did he need an in? If so, who? Where? How?) Could he trust Teague? Why were his girls taken? (After all, no demands had been made. Unless they were wanting him to step down, but if Teague was to be trusted, what had really been accomplished in all this?) What had happened to them?
After a third deep breath, Trevor settled on a question and opened his eyes. "How do I get my girls back?" That covered everything, didn't it? If he asked that, he should get to them. He could worry about everything else once they were safely back in his care. Still feeling ill at ease, Trevor set out his offering on the mat. Hopefully that had been the right question. It had to be. |
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Post by Hilda Prewett on Mar 18, 2015 18:38:14 GMT -8
Already the fumes were affecting Hilda. Her eyes were closed and her head thrown back in an exultation of the magics being used. Every worn fiber of her being was thrown into becoming the conduit for this man's answer.
That word echoed in her mind and resounded, to her perceptions around the room in a rangy flash of iridescent not-colors that bounced from walls to floor to ceiling and through every object cluttering the studio. Like a bolt of lighting, it flashed down into the smoke cloud and she gave the turtle shell three counter clockwise swirls and heaved the bones into the path of the magical aura. To her mind's eye, the bones slowed and became imbued with their own hue and meaning. The way they fell showed her the desired outcome. Now what remained was for her client to see the answer that was so clear and yet so ambiguous to her.
Hilda grabbed her wand and passed it through the vapors in a slow and complex weave. In a guttural croak, the incantation escaped her throat and took life in the white-gray canvas between the witch and wizard. A scene unfolded in the first person perspective.
A tapered and animalistic nose filled the view, centimeters from the floor and a nearby wall. Everything was huge, including the very familiar Katya Williams standing alone in the common room of the Ravenclaw Tower. The being in whose memories they rode scampered forward, shifting as it drew closer to the girl until it was clearly a man's height. He tackled Katya while pulling out a bottle filled with shimmering purple dust. He flung the bottle into the fire and let his momentum carry both him and the girl into the amethyst flames and out into...
A cavern. Smudges of blue and yellow light. Faces all around, some with the fangs of vampires and some human. Goblins. The scene flashed piecemeal as Katya was taken to the center of the city and led into a room that was impossibly large within the center. A court of vampires greeted the man and the girl who was stewarded under a couple. The scene flashed again...
Layla leaving the school to board the train. A man dressed as an Imperium guard, blond and muscular, meets her and speaks with her. takes her bag and walks with her away from the school towards Hogsmeade and then into an abandoned home where a similar tackle and amethyst flame scenario plays out. Layla is not taken to the vampires, but to a district of humans that seem...wolfish. Notices of the next full moon and reminders to take wolfsbane are posted along every intersection. The man's eyes shift from blue to gold with his emotion and she is sequestered away from the general population, fed, and given a room. The vision fades.
Hilda opened her eyes once the vision played out to its end and lowered her head to meet Trevor's eyes.
"That powder is the key, but it will not be easy once you use it. You may very well find yourself just as much a prisoner as your daughters, but you would be reunited." |
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Post by Trevor Williams on Mar 18, 2015 18:38:37 GMT -8
The wand movements were entrancing at the moment, beyond what could be explained by Trevor's usually logical, detail-oriented mind. The smoke, he thought for a moment yet somehow could not bring himself to worry about the fact he wasn't completely aware beyond the present. He needed this insight. He needed something to incite hope within himself to keep moving forward. Revenge would only be fuel enough if ever he learned his children were dead. And though he hadn't before admitted it to himself, he had almost hoped this experience would lead to that so he could unleash his anger without having to worry about two very impressionable minds changing their views of him--especially the one he had barely had in his life after years of searching for her.
As the vision unfolded before him, Trevor found himself focused, his emotions raw for once, unshackled. As he saw his oldest daughter in the Ravenclaw common room, he yearned to reach out. In fact, he couldn't wholely say he didn't actually reach out. What his physical body was doing was beyond his scope of focus. The person... (No, he vaguely realized, too small to be a person.) scampered toward Katya, growing all the while. Animagus, he realized, the shifting viewpoint all too familiar. The rat man. Then, the man lurched toward his daughter. "No!" he exclaimed, unable to help himself, his eyes wide, his breathing growing heavier. Fuck. She had to be terrified as they emerged in the new location. She had to have been so terrified. There were faces, scary faces--not human faces. Even those who were more human-like had fangs. And two of them took her.
Trevor was reluctant when the scene changed again and there was no more Katya. He wanted to keep watching. He wanted to know. Was she ok? Were they treating her alright? Or was she some sort of easy source of food for the fanged creatures? What was going on?
Tears filled his eyes, though he quickly forced himself to focus again on his other daughter. Layla. At least her abduction had not been so terrifying. She'd been happy and innocent, thinking her father had sent someone for her. Thank Merlin for small mercies. But no, of course not! Of course it didn't stay so calm, so innocent. His eleven-year-old daughter was obviously growing scared, though in her stubbornness, she was trying to hide it as she entered the abandoned home. But her eyes gave it away, and her mouth opened in a scream as she was tackled. And those she was taken to. He didn't know which was worse: bloodsuckers or wolves. Was the kidnapper meaning to turn his daughters? To turn them into weapons beyond just the emotional kind against him?
Trevor's eyes searched the smoke desperately as the vision ended and Layla disappeared after being taken to a room. Come back...
There were so many more questions. This vision was too long ago to bring him any comfort, any assurances.
Trevor barely registered the old woman's words. Yes, he knew the powder was key, that there were dangers involved, but he didn't want to focus on that right now. Everything he was feeling was much too overwhelming. "More," he said. "I need more. I need to know they're ok, that they're still alive!" |
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Post by Hilda Prewett on Mar 18, 2015 18:39:03 GMT -8
Hilda's heart thrummed heavily in her chest. This magic was difficult to maintain, but her client had just witnessed an abominable act occur not only to one but to both his daughters. On top of that, they were taken by vampires.. If the old witch could shove a stick in the eye of those monsters, she'd do it. A grim nod, a freshening of the herbs, a wave and croak of the spell...the clouds of smoke swirled once more and showed the other place.
Katya and a vampire female sat on pillows on the floor of a lavish home. The two were talking animatedly, and the conversation can be vaguely heard.
"Our magics are much more subtle than a wizard's or witch's, but in the right circumstance they can be far more potent..."
Katya resumed asking questions eagerly, ever a Ravenclaw with her curiosity. It seemed the vampire had earned her trust and friendship. She looked happy.
The scene shifted to Layla, who looked anything but happy. She pouted, sitting cross legged on a double bed in a cozy room. A window overlooked a fountain in the streets below, in which a black glass wolf howled at the sky. The light from the buildings were caught on the contours of the statue, making it glow rather prettily. Layla didn't seem to care, and instead focused on a blank wall with a scowl on her face. The girl ignored, spat on, and abused both physically and verbally the woman and goblin who were visiting her. Again, a snippet of conversation could be heard.
"Miss Layla, please. You need to eat and change your clothes...we are only trying to help you adjust!"
"Get away from me, you mud blood animal! You and that monster pretending to be human need to get out!"
The goblin looked angry...murderous even, but the woman just sighed sadly. She touched the goblin's shoulder and urged him to leave with her.
"...let's go, Valnok. We'll let Cedric know she doesn't want to eat. Maybe he can help her settle in."
The pair left the small room and the scene faded once more. |
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Post by Trevor Williams on Mar 18, 2015 18:39:27 GMT -8
Thank Merlin, Trevor thought as the woman didn't protest but gave in to help him. He wasn't sure if it was tears or the smoke that stung his eyes at this point, but frankly, he didn't care. He watched as the scenes unfolded. While seeing Katya seemingly happy despite her situation should have been a comfort to him, it wasn't. He wasn't sure how to take such a thing. There were so many reasons that could be, and the fact she was being well-treated wasn't enough. He leaned in, trying to observe the scene closer for any details, but the scene shifted. Layla was there, looking pouty and upset as she often did when he wasn't around (Honestly, that behavior disturbed him a little bit too much.), but even so, he felt relief. She was herself without a shadow of a doubt. He could only hope she was being smart enough to keep herself alive and her strength up. Surely she had hope he would come rescue him. The strong-willed child wasn't bending her knee just yet. It had to mean something.
As the scene faded entirely, Trevor closed his eyes tightly and tears were pushed out. Whether it was the effect of the smoke or the emotions he was feeling had no bearing on Trevor now. This old woman was no one. Well, she was someone, but she was no one all the same. She wasn't a worry or concern for him, for these people to get word. This would have played differently, he was sure. She'd seemed to genuinely want to help by the second question, not even demanding further payment. Surely he could trust her, couldn't he? But then he thought he could trust so many others.... And magic could allow for so many disguises, so many faked identities. Emotions could be feigned.
Trevor opened his eyes and looked at the old woman before him. All at once, he wanted to thank her and to kill her, if not because she was a threat then because of the loose end she might become. If she knew anything of the wizarding world, which was extremely likely, she knew who he was now. She knew and she didn't seem to want to kill him. She didn't seem to hate him. Or if she did, she did well to hide it. Perhaps he could manipulate her memories, erase this brief stint in time with a Confundus charm, but he had no Dr. Lionel now. There was no way he could manage such a complicated charm that was even tricky for some Obliviators. What choice did he have now? He could change his appearance again so that it would be no detriment to him for her to know this one, but that didn't change the fact that she knew what he knew and these people could realize how close he was getting and move shop.
He knew what he should do, but for the first time, he felt conflicted by it. Fatherhood. It was funny what effect it had had on him.
"Swear to me you will never tell anyone what you've seen here," he said, his blue eyes searching the old lady's face. "Swear it." |
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Post by Hilda Prewett on Mar 18, 2015 18:40:09 GMT -8
Swear it? Not even to the current sitting Lord, much less this hollowed out shadow of the man who held the country months ago! A Seer didn't need to swear such things. It should have been implicit by who she was that she didn't tell secrets that didn't belong to her! The offense at the assumption was clear on Hilda's wrinkled scowl. She grumbled an incoherent phrase and jabbed her wand at the smoke,mc learning it immediately.
"...swear it my wrinkly ass...I'm a Seer certified and vouched for by the highest level of Ministry officiating! If I can't be trusted to hold my tongue then you may as well expect the moon to turn green. Never in my LIFE has anyone dared..."
Her ranting built up until she was going full speed, complaining about an untrusting generation and about how in her day honor had meaning among pure bloods. While she griped, she cleaned in the fury that a pent up woman could possess. The braziers, the bones, the mat...all of it was cleared away and stored....somewhere. In her flurry, she dragged a small table between them, oblivious still to any response her ire may have drawn from Trevor. On it she spread a map of the city
"Now. Pay attention because this isn't going to work more than once. I've given you a seeing for a price, one for pity, and now a third for murder. You're to kill a vampire when you go get your little ones. I hate the bastards. But that's not important right now. This. Look. "
She jabbed a gnarled finger into the paper to get his attention on it. With her other hand she gestured to the bottle Trevor bought and levitated it to the table. She opened it and drank straight from it before explaining her next piece.
"...you've more help than you know...get yer untrusting head out of yer ass and you'll see clearly that MacTail ain't the leader you wanted, but he's still the trustworthy tool you made him into...use him. And go... Here."
Her eyes rolled back in a moment, her head fell back, and she set the map alight with her wand. The flames rapidly consumed the frail paper and left a small circle of unscorched map around the neighborhood of Teague's home.
Hilda didn't know the significance off he place. Hopefully Williams did because she was more interested in finishing the bottle than dealing with his problem anymore. |
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