Post by Sylph on May 21, 2006 7:52:47 GMT -5
Invite only
So this is what it had come to; Talon, the supposed leader of all resistances to the threat of Scorpius and his Shadow legions, had been drained of his powers and fled screaming like a five year old girl, while the teachers squabbled unhelpfully among themselves and the man who knew more about their enemy than any other lay injured, perhaps fatally, in the hospital wing. Things - to put it in a nutshell - were a mess. If circumstances didn't change, and soon, the inhabitants of Firefox would be plunged into a crisis. A large crisis. In fact, if you got a moment, it would be a twelve-story crisis with a magnificent entrance hall, carpeting throughout, 24-hour portage, and an enormous sign on the roof, saying 'This Is a Large Crisis'. And, as everybody knows, a large crisis requires a large plan. This was the reason that the eighteen year old Gryffindor prefect found herself on the boarders of Fenrir's wood just before the twilight hour. Before his abrupt change into a blubbering piece of sputum, Talon had made a pact with one Lord Azrael, and his lieutenant in madness, Fenris Fenrir, and loath as she was to accept it, this murdering lycan held their only hope, unless by some miracle - which Sylph assumed would involve a qualified fire mage - Talon regained both his powers and courage within the next, ooh, twenty four hours.
Today the violet-haired girl was feeling reckless, and it showed. Death and doom lay at her feet, and seeing as how she could not turn from her path, she had decided to meet fate head on, wand in hand. A steely glint lay behind her shocking emerald eyes, and her face was set, grim and determined, but as ever a dangerous smile played at her lips, and the knowledge that she may have been walking to her destruction only seemed to enhance the sheer force of her indomitable spirit. Even the mad wolf would be made to submit to her fell mood. The devil-may-care grin grew a little wider on her face as she drew her wand from her inner pocket, pausing on the very edge of the tree line. Her violently-purple hair swirled in a slight wind that seemed not to stir anything else; indeed, the breeze appeared to emanate not from the skies but from her own tall and athletic body, driven it seemed by her own ire. A destructive tornado or a protective cocoon; none watching would be able to say which. A green fire was kindled in her eyes and she looked for a moment upon the precipice before plunging headlong over the threshold.
It was true that she and Fenris had never before shown any inkling of forming any kind of allegiance - to her the lycan was merely a crazed and slavering monster with only the desire to hunt and feast and revel in the hot blood and torn flesh of his victims. If he had been a real wolf, she wouldn't have paid it any heed, but in a man, even one such as he, it was both disturbing and wrong, and he had to be treated with extreme caution. Still, Sylph would not have entered his realm if she had thought that there was no chance of appealing to his better nature, however small and distant it had become. She was brave, not stupid, no matter what some said about the members of her house. The lycan still had a strict code of honor, warped though it was, and Sylph had known enough of him to figure out which buttons to push - or so she hoped. Her mission was but a small part of the war that waged intermittent around them in this otherwise sleepy corner of Spain, but it had to be done. She had waited too long already, and seeing as how Talon was otherwise indisposed, she needed to befriend an old foe.
She strode on through the woods, her tough leather boots crunching with satisfaction on the needle-strewn floor, her thirteen and a half inch wand held out in front of her at all times. Her peridot eyes were narrowed and hooded, her ears straining for any sound above the evening chorus or the gentle rustle of leaves. The air was close and stuffy, and the trees bunched together menacingly, but Sylph was not afraid. The rich and sickly-sweet scent of pine resin hit her nostrils and she breathed deep, cursing under her breath. Something'll get the drop on you, Sylph m'girl, a little voice inside her said nastily. All your senses are useless in here. Still, the green-eyes girl ignored it, and before long she stumbled upon a large clearing where the earth was black and the plants wilted. Great footprints were scattered over the barren soil, and it was these that stole her attention. To her great shock she recognised them as the imprints of a dragon, and a big one at that. Probably a horntail judging by the wicked furrows and scores that ravaged the tree trunks around the clearing. Stooping to examine a particularly well defined print, her mind and heart raced. A dragon? Here in the woods? So close to the school? Why had nobody noticed it? And who had brought it here?
Well, that was it. Who. A sudden twist in her stomach, a nervous jolt, and she was back on her feet heading deeper into the forest, putting distance between herself and the ominous clearing, jogging steadily whilst weaving in and out of the trees. The tabloids said that the Society had dragon tamers, an what with a dragon here, now... well, it didn't take a genius to figure it out. What was a puzzle though was why old Fenris allowed it. Whether to bring it up with him or not - that was the question. Perhaps she'd leave it until she asked her little favour. Her wand still raised and all her senses on high alert, she stopped running and screwed up all her mental energy, summoning such powers as her Seer blood bestowed her. Moments later she sent forth a telepathic message to the wolf-man; shouting out loud for him was probably not the best idea with a dragon hanging around the place.
Fenris, she sent, her mental voice commanding and firm. Come here. Little-miss purple-hair has a job for you. It's as much your business as mine, I suggest you hurry. A pause, and she sent forth two more words that would further grab his attention. Hayzie Roberts...
So this is what it had come to; Talon, the supposed leader of all resistances to the threat of Scorpius and his Shadow legions, had been drained of his powers and fled screaming like a five year old girl, while the teachers squabbled unhelpfully among themselves and the man who knew more about their enemy than any other lay injured, perhaps fatally, in the hospital wing. Things - to put it in a nutshell - were a mess. If circumstances didn't change, and soon, the inhabitants of Firefox would be plunged into a crisis. A large crisis. In fact, if you got a moment, it would be a twelve-story crisis with a magnificent entrance hall, carpeting throughout, 24-hour portage, and an enormous sign on the roof, saying 'This Is a Large Crisis'. And, as everybody knows, a large crisis requires a large plan. This was the reason that the eighteen year old Gryffindor prefect found herself on the boarders of Fenrir's wood just before the twilight hour. Before his abrupt change into a blubbering piece of sputum, Talon had made a pact with one Lord Azrael, and his lieutenant in madness, Fenris Fenrir, and loath as she was to accept it, this murdering lycan held their only hope, unless by some miracle - which Sylph assumed would involve a qualified fire mage - Talon regained both his powers and courage within the next, ooh, twenty four hours.
Today the violet-haired girl was feeling reckless, and it showed. Death and doom lay at her feet, and seeing as how she could not turn from her path, she had decided to meet fate head on, wand in hand. A steely glint lay behind her shocking emerald eyes, and her face was set, grim and determined, but as ever a dangerous smile played at her lips, and the knowledge that she may have been walking to her destruction only seemed to enhance the sheer force of her indomitable spirit. Even the mad wolf would be made to submit to her fell mood. The devil-may-care grin grew a little wider on her face as she drew her wand from her inner pocket, pausing on the very edge of the tree line. Her violently-purple hair swirled in a slight wind that seemed not to stir anything else; indeed, the breeze appeared to emanate not from the skies but from her own tall and athletic body, driven it seemed by her own ire. A destructive tornado or a protective cocoon; none watching would be able to say which. A green fire was kindled in her eyes and she looked for a moment upon the precipice before plunging headlong over the threshold.
It was true that she and Fenris had never before shown any inkling of forming any kind of allegiance - to her the lycan was merely a crazed and slavering monster with only the desire to hunt and feast and revel in the hot blood and torn flesh of his victims. If he had been a real wolf, she wouldn't have paid it any heed, but in a man, even one such as he, it was both disturbing and wrong, and he had to be treated with extreme caution. Still, Sylph would not have entered his realm if she had thought that there was no chance of appealing to his better nature, however small and distant it had become. She was brave, not stupid, no matter what some said about the members of her house. The lycan still had a strict code of honor, warped though it was, and Sylph had known enough of him to figure out which buttons to push - or so she hoped. Her mission was but a small part of the war that waged intermittent around them in this otherwise sleepy corner of Spain, but it had to be done. She had waited too long already, and seeing as how Talon was otherwise indisposed, she needed to befriend an old foe.
She strode on through the woods, her tough leather boots crunching with satisfaction on the needle-strewn floor, her thirteen and a half inch wand held out in front of her at all times. Her peridot eyes were narrowed and hooded, her ears straining for any sound above the evening chorus or the gentle rustle of leaves. The air was close and stuffy, and the trees bunched together menacingly, but Sylph was not afraid. The rich and sickly-sweet scent of pine resin hit her nostrils and she breathed deep, cursing under her breath. Something'll get the drop on you, Sylph m'girl, a little voice inside her said nastily. All your senses are useless in here. Still, the green-eyes girl ignored it, and before long she stumbled upon a large clearing where the earth was black and the plants wilted. Great footprints were scattered over the barren soil, and it was these that stole her attention. To her great shock she recognised them as the imprints of a dragon, and a big one at that. Probably a horntail judging by the wicked furrows and scores that ravaged the tree trunks around the clearing. Stooping to examine a particularly well defined print, her mind and heart raced. A dragon? Here in the woods? So close to the school? Why had nobody noticed it? And who had brought it here?
Well, that was it. Who. A sudden twist in her stomach, a nervous jolt, and she was back on her feet heading deeper into the forest, putting distance between herself and the ominous clearing, jogging steadily whilst weaving in and out of the trees. The tabloids said that the Society had dragon tamers, an what with a dragon here, now... well, it didn't take a genius to figure it out. What was a puzzle though was why old Fenris allowed it. Whether to bring it up with him or not - that was the question. Perhaps she'd leave it until she asked her little favour. Her wand still raised and all her senses on high alert, she stopped running and screwed up all her mental energy, summoning such powers as her Seer blood bestowed her. Moments later she sent forth a telepathic message to the wolf-man; shouting out loud for him was probably not the best idea with a dragon hanging around the place.
Fenris, she sent, her mental voice commanding and firm. Come here. Little-miss purple-hair has a job for you. It's as much your business as mine, I suggest you hurry. A pause, and she sent forth two more words that would further grab his attention. Hayzie Roberts...