Post by Sylph on Dec 7, 2006 16:00:02 GMT -5
W. H. Auden wrote that Murder is unique in that it abolishes the party it injures, so that society has to take the place of the victim and on his or her behalf demand atonement or grant forgiveness; it is the one crime in which society has a direct interest. True words indeed, but they did not appear in the mind of the girl who had taken on this mantle of society, for she was desolate and fey, fury dwelt within her breast and tore at her mind and heart, ravaging them from all logic and reason. She sat in the cranial hollow of an enormous mottled grey dragon, long legs spread either side of the great creature's neck, her back rigidly straight and unbending and eyes staring out blindly in front of her, her gaze lingering somewhere in the middle distance. Great leathery wings beat ceaselessly either side of her causing the landscape to rise and fall rhythmically before her green stare. It helped. Repetitiveness helped. That which was grasped in her right hand was not her own wand; that slender willow stick had been smashed earlier in the day, but the loss of such a faithful instrument was nothing on the subsequent loss she had suffered scant minutes later.
Hayzie Roberts was dead.
In the winding streets of Drakborough, Fenris Fenrir, that monstrous killer that lurked on the edges of nightmares, had lain waste to the native population. Guts and entrails already littered the cobbles when Sylph arrived on the scene, confident of her own victory against the beast she had so often battled, but it was not to be. Seconds after Sylph faced the beast, her old friend and ex-prefect had skidded to a halt beside her, ready to help defend their village and the people that lived there. What a foolish act it had been. Hayzie. Thinking the blonde girl's name brought a renewed sense of despair and nausea to Sylph, and her stomach plummeted. Leucetios, the dragon, sensed this and directed his course accordingly, trying to make the ride as smooth as possible for his passenger. Expressing her weary thanks via a firm slap on the neck, Sylph swallowed hard and fought the feeling of sea-sickness as best she could, wishing for all the world she could have a stiff belt of firewhiskey at that moment in time. The wand in her hand twitched, but she used it not. It had been Hayzie's. This wand would only be used for one more purpose.
To kill Fenris Fenrir.
Yet another wave of revulsion swept over her as she recalled with heart wrenching accuracy and pin point detail the moment when Fenris had bitten off Hayzie's head, sending the now lifeless skull bouncing over to meet Sylph's nose as she lay sprawled hopeless and useless on the ground. Hayzie's blood still spattered her wan skin, which seemed drawn tight around her bones. A massive shiner was developing rapidly over her left eye, and mud plastered her hair. Cuts and bruises covered her body, and her clothes were torn in many places. It was a good job Sylph was used to such things. Unnaturally bright green eyes resumed their lifeless staring, pools of flashing emerald in a face drained of all colour. She looked ill.
Without command, Leucetios dipped his right wing and began the circling descent, maw pointed determined at the grounds of Firefox. He had grown considerably since he had last viewed these places in times of peace. His length was now measured at over forty feet, despite having been created scant months before. Stone eyes glinted and his metallic scales shimmered and shifted, chameleon-like, lightening in hue to match the clouds that hung somberly above. Shining talons flexed and spiked tail whipped through the air, acting as a rudder to steer him closer to the ground. Landing as softly as a forty foot storm dragon could, the Stormstrike touched down, long claws tearing the soft turf of the dueling field as he did so to gain purchase. His wings beat once more before folding away above his arched and studded back. He felt so much more at home in the air; it was how he had been created, a love of the skies and storms woven into his very being. Somehow he also sensed that Sylph felt the same today; that being back on the ground refreshed her misery. He was not wrong.
Without removing herself from her saddle, Sylph sat up straighter than before, if it were at all possible, and pointed Hayzie's wand to her throat, wincing as she did so and taking no pleasure in using it. Sonorus. When she spoke, her voice was oddly displaced, as if it did not come from her own mouth, the words bitter on her tongue. Her usual accent too was conspicuously absent, and her tones devoid of all emotion - a considerable feat considering the churning raging torrent that threatened to overwhelm her. Part of her felt that Hayzie's death was Sylph's own fault, that if the violet haired girl hadn't been so intent on fighting Fenris that she would have lived. She should have lived! The anger surprised even Sylph. Only the day before Hayzie had packed up shop and told Sylph she was leaving Spain. If only she had left then and there, she would still be alive. Leaving the magical world was a joy compared to no life at all, and for a moment, Sylph thought she might weep. It did not come. Strengthening her resolve, drawing on the power of the creature beneath her, Sylph spoke, her voice magically magnified, her empty hollow words echoing through every room in the palace.
People of Firefox! I ask you to come to me! One of our own has been murdered! Hayzie Roberts is dead, slain by a madman, a killer we would all see rid of, given the chance. This is the chance! Together we will drive him out, and avenge countless people's deaths. Firefox, join me![/b]
Quietus. The wand lowered inexorably slowly from Sylph's throat, her insides writhing but her mind stricken. Again a dry sob wracked her rangy frame, but still no tears fell. There would be time enough for that later. She remained utterly motionless, waiting for the outpouring of students and teachers. None knew more than they the evil of Fenris Fenrir. Together they would triumph.
The words of W. H. Auden may have escaped her, but one single axiom fluttered repeatedly through Sylph's mind, the repetitiveness comforting and steeling.
Hayzie Roberts was dead.
In the winding streets of Drakborough, Fenris Fenrir, that monstrous killer that lurked on the edges of nightmares, had lain waste to the native population. Guts and entrails already littered the cobbles when Sylph arrived on the scene, confident of her own victory against the beast she had so often battled, but it was not to be. Seconds after Sylph faced the beast, her old friend and ex-prefect had skidded to a halt beside her, ready to help defend their village and the people that lived there. What a foolish act it had been. Hayzie. Thinking the blonde girl's name brought a renewed sense of despair and nausea to Sylph, and her stomach plummeted. Leucetios, the dragon, sensed this and directed his course accordingly, trying to make the ride as smooth as possible for his passenger. Expressing her weary thanks via a firm slap on the neck, Sylph swallowed hard and fought the feeling of sea-sickness as best she could, wishing for all the world she could have a stiff belt of firewhiskey at that moment in time. The wand in her hand twitched, but she used it not. It had been Hayzie's. This wand would only be used for one more purpose.
To kill Fenris Fenrir.
Yet another wave of revulsion swept over her as she recalled with heart wrenching accuracy and pin point detail the moment when Fenris had bitten off Hayzie's head, sending the now lifeless skull bouncing over to meet Sylph's nose as she lay sprawled hopeless and useless on the ground. Hayzie's blood still spattered her wan skin, which seemed drawn tight around her bones. A massive shiner was developing rapidly over her left eye, and mud plastered her hair. Cuts and bruises covered her body, and her clothes were torn in many places. It was a good job Sylph was used to such things. Unnaturally bright green eyes resumed their lifeless staring, pools of flashing emerald in a face drained of all colour. She looked ill.
Without command, Leucetios dipped his right wing and began the circling descent, maw pointed determined at the grounds of Firefox. He had grown considerably since he had last viewed these places in times of peace. His length was now measured at over forty feet, despite having been created scant months before. Stone eyes glinted and his metallic scales shimmered and shifted, chameleon-like, lightening in hue to match the clouds that hung somberly above. Shining talons flexed and spiked tail whipped through the air, acting as a rudder to steer him closer to the ground. Landing as softly as a forty foot storm dragon could, the Stormstrike touched down, long claws tearing the soft turf of the dueling field as he did so to gain purchase. His wings beat once more before folding away above his arched and studded back. He felt so much more at home in the air; it was how he had been created, a love of the skies and storms woven into his very being. Somehow he also sensed that Sylph felt the same today; that being back on the ground refreshed her misery. He was not wrong.
Without removing herself from her saddle, Sylph sat up straighter than before, if it were at all possible, and pointed Hayzie's wand to her throat, wincing as she did so and taking no pleasure in using it. Sonorus. When she spoke, her voice was oddly displaced, as if it did not come from her own mouth, the words bitter on her tongue. Her usual accent too was conspicuously absent, and her tones devoid of all emotion - a considerable feat considering the churning raging torrent that threatened to overwhelm her. Part of her felt that Hayzie's death was Sylph's own fault, that if the violet haired girl hadn't been so intent on fighting Fenris that she would have lived. She should have lived! The anger surprised even Sylph. Only the day before Hayzie had packed up shop and told Sylph she was leaving Spain. If only she had left then and there, she would still be alive. Leaving the magical world was a joy compared to no life at all, and for a moment, Sylph thought she might weep. It did not come. Strengthening her resolve, drawing on the power of the creature beneath her, Sylph spoke, her voice magically magnified, her empty hollow words echoing through every room in the palace.
People of Firefox! I ask you to come to me! One of our own has been murdered! Hayzie Roberts is dead, slain by a madman, a killer we would all see rid of, given the chance. This is the chance! Together we will drive him out, and avenge countless people's deaths. Firefox, join me![/b]
Quietus. The wand lowered inexorably slowly from Sylph's throat, her insides writhing but her mind stricken. Again a dry sob wracked her rangy frame, but still no tears fell. There would be time enough for that later. She remained utterly motionless, waiting for the outpouring of students and teachers. None knew more than they the evil of Fenris Fenrir. Together they would triumph.
The words of W. H. Auden may have escaped her, but one single axiom fluttered repeatedly through Sylph's mind, the repetitiveness comforting and steeling.
Neque enim lex est aequior ulla,
Quam necis artifices arte perire sua
-- Nor is there any law more just,
than that he who has plotted death shall perish by his own plot
Quam necis artifices arte perire sua
-- Nor is there any law more just,
than that he who has plotted death shall perish by his own plot