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Post by D'rorah Philosophy on May 10, 2009 20:02:06 GMT -5
D'rorah had returned from Paradox manor feeling soothed and whole again. She had endured Dylan's torments for far too long since he had returned from St. Mungo's. The scene in the common room had pushed her past her breaking point... and had nearly cost the lives of many people. Luckily, D'rorah had been able to escape the castle before her mind had gotten out of control. She had been lucky to avoid ravaging the others with her mental energy. That, at least, had saved her from being locked up in Azkaban. The Ministry had never liked telepaths or Shadow Warriors. It made sense--telepaths who abused their abilities were a danger in a world where information was power. Kerridon was a pleasant addition to her life (ooc: hopefully that thread plays out the way we've planned or I'll be modding this ). In reality, he and D'rorah made a lot of sense; they were alike in so many ways. They complemented each other. And he, certainly, didn't have the dangerous pull on her emotions that Dylan had. That pull was something she'd never thought to explore before, but now she wondered where it came from. Up until recently, it had never caused a problem. She had spent much time in her texts recently and had begun to once again neglect the physical shell that was her body. She could see it in the way her robes had become loose-fitting and the sunkenness of her cheeks. With discipline, she knew she could regain that physical health. And so, she set off this morning for the Room of Requirement. Her swords were carefully concealed under her robes as she made her way up the stairs to the sixth floor. She had missed the way the metal sang to her as she trained, had missed the physical release and the pleasant ache of muscles pushed just beyond their limits. She had eaten a healthy breakfast this morning before setting out and felt assured that this new day was a good beginning, a new beginning after everything that had gone horribly wrong. She felt hopeful for some reason now... it was pleasant to feel hope again for a change. There were still rumors about her flying about the school at lightning speed after her scarred arms had been revealed to the world, but then she was accustomed to such things. She had always been different from other girls her age, and that difference had spawned many petty and vicious rumors. Through it all, she had always been able to hold her head aloft, and she would continue to do so now. She checked the corridor as she made her way to the section of hall where the Room of Requirement would open up. Luckily, it didn't seem many people bothered being up and about this early on a weekend morning. Quickly, she made the requisite three passes before the door as she thought of the Lightfighters' training room. It would most likely be empty. She knew Wysteria had gone with Zane and Keaira to scatter Alessandro's ashes... hopefully the three of them would soon return safely from that errand. When the door appeared, she made her way quickly through it and continued on across the antechamber reserved mostly for meetings and made her way into the room of Elemental Wind. She left the door slightly ajar, allowing the breezes from her element to blow into the currently empty anteroom. This way, if any of the others happened to show up, they might hear her training and join her. She could use some spirited sparring... and she figured the other Lightfighters could use whatever training they could have. As the leader, she preferred to make herself available when she could... even though it seemed her demeanor was off-putting enough that few ever decided to avail themselves of her offerings. She spent time going through various forms and practicing her motions, delighting in the singing of her twin blades as they sliced through the air. To finish up, she conjured a training dummy... it wasn't as good as a real opponent, but it was effective. Some hours later, she sheathed her swords and gathered her overrobe from the ground, interested in lunch. She was trying to be attentive to eating, as Kerridon had admonished her... though it was pesky to have to take out time for such things, she knew he was right. She'd never help anyone if she managed to starve herself to death. Exhausted and feeling emotionally lifted after the exertion, she took one last deep breath and turned to exit the room, paying little real attention to her surroundings. Only Lightfighters could get into this room, so she knew she would be safe from threat of attack. She stepped out into the anteroom, closing the door behind her and intent on making her way to first a shower and then a meal.
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Post by Dylan Cooper on May 10, 2009 21:00:31 GMT -5
He had been neglecting his training duties of late, partly because he wasn't sure if he could still access the Room of Requirement due to Wysteria's occupation of it, and partly because he'd been so busy catching up on life at the castle. His long absense had cost him, and consequently he had spent more than a lot of time doing assignments and essays, and that wasn't when he was training on the Quidditch pitch or attending classes. Dressed in a pair of comfortable black training pants with two parallel white stripes down the sides and a tight fit white tank top, he ascended the stairs to the seventh floor on a calm weekend morning. As he rounded the corner, he saw one Ravenclaw prefect slip into the room in question he was headed for. As he was quite clearly standing here, it was obviously the female prefect.
His eyes narrowing slightly, he followed on light feet as the door sealed itself into the wall. He had heard that after he had verbally assaulted her in the common room that she hadn't been seen in the castle for a while. He had also heard that, recently, she had returned. He didn't know where she had gone, presumably one of her many residences left to her by her parents, but he had not seen her since that night and a small fire lit within his eyes as he perceived his opportunity. He didn't know where it came from, but he didn't care. Somehow, something was telling him that he needed to bring her down once and for all, that she needed to pay for what she had done to him.
His eyes fierce, he proceeded to the doorway and performed the usual ritual to gain entrance. If he knew D'rorah at all, and he really did, she would most likely be training, and indeed he could hear her moving about in the Elemental Room of Wind. Whenever she entered that room, she was usually within for a few hours at least. He decided that instead of simply wait, he would gain some strength first, and proceeded silently into his own room. The rolling stream wove it's way through the mass of greenery and he smiled peacefully at the sight of this room once more. Inhaling deeply, he spent the next hour reviving beneath the shade of a large and one of his favourite willow trees.
Finally moving back out into the main room, Dylan took a seat at the table they usually reserved for meetings of the Lightfighters, in his own chair nonetheless, carved with the symbol of Earth. Conveniently, it was directly beside his room and faced that of Wind, in which he could now hear the unmistakeable sound of her dual swords colliding with something relatively solid. Biding his time as he sat there, it was a while still until she emerged. He raised his eyes, almost insolently, and eyed her sunken appearance. It was disgusting to see and he certainly didn't need to wonder how effective her entire masquerade of love had been to him.
"You shouldn't have come back," he said quietly, his voice dangerously revealing nothing of his anger; it seemed a mere statement. Really, though, it was the truth. If she hadn't returned from her brief absense, she wouldn't be in this position now; it was all her fault, in essence. His mind worked over the scenario quickly, and he knew that he could reach the door before she would, should she try to run. Not only that, but knowing how thoroughly she trained, she would be relatively exhausted after her training.
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Post by D'rorah Philosophy on May 10, 2009 22:27:14 GMT -5
D'rorah stopped short when she saw Dylan watching her. She felt the familiar pulling of her emotional strings as he opened his mouth to speak, the but effect was slightly diminished now. She couldn't really say she loved him any more... not after how he had tormented and humiliated her. It still hurt to recall everything that had happened since his return, but she would do her best to overcome it--inexplicable emotional pulls be damned. His words were quiet, and seemingly harmless. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, despising the juvinality of the gesture and unwilling to perform it herself. [blue]"Nevertheless, Mister Cooper, here I stand,"[/blue] she replied calmly. [blue]"This space is just as much mine as it is yours, no matter how much you have come to despise me."[/blue]
She took a deep breath and turned to head in the direction of the door. She had absolutely no desire to draw out this encounter, suspecting it would turn out no better than the previous ones had. She had quite enough to worry about at present without allowing him to make an emotional wreck of her. [blue]"Good day,"[/blue] she bid with a nod of her head. They were still allies, after all, and it would be far better for everyone if they could at least be civil to one another. Knowing she would have to be the one to make the first gesture, she made it.
But now, she was tired. She eyed her pathway to the door, finding herself frustrated that she would have to pass him to reach it... or at least, go the longer way around the other side of the table. She pondered for a split second and decided that was the best way to go about. There was no reason to approach him if she could avoid it. She had had enough of his flaunting his new girlfriend before her and his barbed remarks. She switched tracks and took the long way around the table, avoiding crossing Dylan's path and quietly looking forward to a decent lunch and more time to research. She promised herself she was going to waste any more emotional effort here... and she certainly wasn't going to continue to allow her physical self to waste away as she pined for him. She was a Philosophy; she was above such infantile displays of emotional angst. Knowing Dylan had never been particularly violent or much of a fighter--indeed, he had barely fought back against his stepbrother and D'rorah had been the one to rescue him on more than one occasion with her own superior fighting skills--it never occured to her to be wary of anything more than his wandwork. And still, she felt hers was superior there as well. She summoned up the will to continue on her way and did so, heading for the door that would lead out into the corridor.
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Post by Dylan Cooper on May 11, 2009 7:39:46 GMT -5
He watched her carefully, looking for any unusual movement; he didn't expect her to start a confrontation without any real purpose, but he didn't want to be surprised because of his own laziness, either. As she responded in her typical obnoxious manner, a small smile crept onto his features that not a single person could call happy; his eyes remained hard as agates. His muscles had become tense with anticipation now that she had emerged and events were about to be set into motion, they almost quivered with energy as they waited to begin moving about. As she nodded once toward him and cast a farewell greeting, his smile grew slightly, though there was no open hostility within it.
He remained quite still as she moved around the table, clearly taking the longer route to avoid him. Before long, however, his muscles quickly rejoiced in functioning and rewarded him with quick movements as his feet carried him toward her intended path. As she neared the door, he pushed out one hand to the wall with an uncharacteristic force that was quite evident; the sound was loud enough to fill the entire room for a split second before fading. Blocking her way out, his eyes moved to hers and there was no trace of any kind of smile, happy or otherwise, to be found adorning his features. His serious face seemed devoid of any kind of compassion or even reason; there would be no weaseling out of this situation.
He removed his hand from the wall and revealed a small dent that he could not normally have made; as insane as it might be, he seemed to be driven to greater strengths by some unknown power. Perhaps even before she could gauge the situation he struck out, his now free right hand colliding with her cheek. "Leaving already? And you were clearly so keen to come back to the castle," he said with a gloating laugh, his voice not filled with the usual kindness but rather a mocking sort of triumph at having come across her in such a position that she was open for attack. He knew the fight was far from over, but for now at least, he had the upper hand.
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Post by D'rorah Philosophy on May 11, 2009 9:21:13 GMT -5
The smile which found its way to Dylan's lips was wholly unappealing and almost disturbing. She couldn't tell what look he was going for, but she assumed that it was perhaps his own attempt at maintaining civility between them. She didn't notice that he was tense... she had been more shocked by his presence than she was willing to admit. She shouldn't have been, he was an Elemental Master and was just as likely as she to use this room as she. In any case, she didn't feel the matter was worth dwelling on. She had wasted enough energy thinking and worrying and agonizing over Dylan Cooper. She had endured seeing him with his girlfriend in the common room, and had endured the malicious emotions that had emanated from him up until the point she had returned his ring. Even now, the memory of that stung.
Never before had she opened up to anyone the way she had opened up to Dylan. The betrayal in the common room had been particularly acute, as he knew the great lengths to which she had gone to assure that no one else saw them. He knew how important her parents had been to her, and how their deaths had affected her. And then, there had been the additional remark "one very important thing".... She knew what he was referring to, and he knew how carefully she had guarded that secret and how difficult it had been for her to share it with him. She felt as though the relived the events of that night whenever she thought of them. She had mentally relived them every time she had joined with a new Elemental Master and the effect never faded in even the tiniest amount. Everything about having known Dylan had become painful for her, and she pushed the memories away, vowing he would never again have an avenue to hurt her.
And so, she breathed an internal sigh of relief as he remained still in his seat. Perhaps she would get off with nothing more than his inital snide remark that she should not have come back. That was nothing compared to the previous things he had said and done; she could bear it easily. She had only made it partway around the table when Dylan suddenly sprang from his chair, moving to block her path. She stopped short and flinched back as his hand hit the wall, thinking the resulting impact sounded unnaturally loud. Her eyes blinked several times in rapid succession, betraying her surprise and her eyebrows came together in concern. She wondered what in the world was going on. Wouldn't he be happy that she was taking her leave and that they could both avoid unnecessary drama?
She didn't notice the dent in the wall, she was drawn only to his eyes, which were completely devoid of any of the emotions she had come to associate with Dylan Cooper. She opened her mouth to ask whether he was alright, but was unable to even completely form the thought in her mind before a reeling blow met her cheek. Completely unprepared for the attack itself, and even moreso for the force with which it was delivered, she couldn't react as she felt her head smash against the stone wall.
"Leaving already? And you were clearly so keen to come back to the castle,"
The words sounded unclear and disjointed as her ears rang and her vision swam with an image of Dylan gloating over her. She immediately tried to pull herself into a more defensive position, still unsure that what had occurred, had actually occurred. Dylan was physically strong from years of playing quidditch and working as a blacksmith, but he never actually availed himself of that physical strength. He had never liked fighting, had never liked the sound of one body colliding with another in violence. She remembered that about him. Already somewhat slumped against the wall, she crouched low to regain her center of gravity. Having her back to a wall was certainly far from ideal, but she didn't have a way out at the moment.
[blue]"Dylan please, I do not wish to fight you,"[/blue] she entreated. How could she raise a hand in violence against Dylan? She had so often protected him from others who wished to harm him, giving his step-brother such a sound beating that he had required a long recuperation. How could she now turn that protective instinct into an offensive one? She tried to think of an escape; she wasn't sure she would be able to block blows as powerful as that first. Her best bet would be to dodge them, but that wouldn't work if she was against the wall. She centered her weight on her legs and gambled, rising swiftly from her crouched position and aiming for Dylan's shoulder, thinking she could knock him off balance long enough to gain a better position and possibly to escape. The blow wouldn't cause any damage. She couldn't bring herself to actually hurt him, but neither did she wish to have any further damage caused to herself.
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Post by Dylan Cooper on May 12, 2009 2:05:04 GMT -5
As she reeled backward, blood and adrenaline rushed straight to his head, telling him that this was how it should be. D'rorah's head collided with the solid stone grey wall behind her and she had clearly been unprepared for what to her might seem an unprovoked attack. But it was not unprovoked, not in his mind. If you'd have asked, he probably couldn't have explained it, but something was telling him that she deserved it, that at some point she had done something so heinous to him as to warrant this. He wasn't even sure where the idea to attack her in such a way had come from - simply seeing her entering the Room of Requirement alone seemed to have stirred something within him.
This entire situation was completely out of the ordinary in almost every aspect, a fact that managed to escape Dylan's attention. Not only had he loved this young Philosophy mere months ago, but he hadn't lifted a hand against anyone before in his life, unless to defend himself. He was so characteristically against violence or fighting of any kind; even for this war, he was slightly hesitant against fighting any wizarding opponents they might face. He was also relatively brave and, though the tradition might seem dead, noble. He had not even made this a fair fight; he had waited until she had tired herself out with training, until he was sure she was alone, and not given much, if any, warning at all that he was intent on causing her physical harm. He was also a logical and generally clear-headed Ravenclaw, though at present he questioned none of his own thoughts or actions. Clearly, something was not as it should be, though the fifth year's eyes seemed blinded to it.
His eyes stayed focused quite clearly on her and he would not be foolish enough to underestimate the woman crouched before him; he felt that if he were to lose this fight or have her escape that he will have failed most miserably. Failed what, he didn't know, his feelings did not care to explain that much, but something told him he had to cause some damage. How he went about it, though, appeared to be of his own choosing, as if it didn't matter how it happened, just that it did. He felt a kind of satisfaction at using his hands and chose to continue thus. Advancing on her slightly, her words reached his ears and he raised his eyebrows mockingly. "Unfortunately, that decision isn't up to you," he retorted, an unpleasant smile playing at his lips.
Rising quickly, she aimed a blow to his shoulder and caught him. His own hand rose in reaction and grabbed her wrist, so that even as half of his body turned from the blow, he brought her around with him quite awkwardly. Feeling his own wrist joint twist uncomfortably, he released her and struck out with his foot, hoping to bring her down once more. Without surveying the damage, he struck out once more, this time with his fist.
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Post by D'rorah Philosophy on May 12, 2009 2:55:16 GMT -5
D'rorah hadn't been entirely prepared for Dylan to catch her wrist as she struck him, but feeling herself pulled around with him even before her feet finished leaving the ground, she added what extra momentum she could to the maneuver, her feet leaving the ground as she attempted to jump over him, a maneuver that had never failed before to wrench her arm from an opponent's grasp. This time, however, Dylan was somehow stronger than her average opponent. And a move that would have been wildly successful faltered and fell short, causing her to come to the ground awkwardly as she felt her wrist wrenched in a most unpleasant way. She hadn't been able to make it past him. All that effort had only managed to bring her slightly away from the wall and completely off-balance.
She felt an explosion of impact behind her knee as Dylan struck out with his foot, bringing her once again near to the floor. She landed on one knee, looking for all the world as though she were proposing to Dylan in a reverse of the typical proposal scene. That vision, of course, was roughly shattered as his fist collided with her midsection, causing all of the air to rush from her lungs and her vision to blacken momentarily. She couldn't pause, she had been trained to fight through the pain, but it was far more difficult to fight without oxygen. Thinking quickly, she reached for a nearby chair, anything she could use as a weapon that wouldn't cause too much damage to Dylan. She grabbed the middle of a chair leg with her free hand and pulled it toward her with all the force she could muster, aiming to strike Dylan's back so she could loosen his death grip and get away.
She couldn't remember the last time she'd been so clearly outmatched in a fight. All of her years of training and her usual alertness had precluded things like this from happening. This was different however; being caught off-guard by an opponent she didn't want to harm was turning the tide of the battle in his favor. Her mind went briefly to drawing her swords, but she was too afraid she would accidentally hurt him with them. And, even though she wasn't in the least romantically inclined to him at the moment, she couldn't bring herself to override her protective instincts and hurt Dylan. He was an ally, and who would the others believe if she won? Would they really believe D'rorah? She had always been the superior fighter. She was the one with a reason to hold a grudge against him after the way he'd treated her in the common room the other night.
The chair connected and she was able to wrench herself free. She hastily made her way to her feet and began backing away from him. Unfortunately, back away took her even farther from the door she needed to reach to escape. But going towards him at the moment certainly wasn't an option. Thinking quickly, she began pulling chairs from underneath the table to place as an obstacle between them and searching for some way to escape. She hopped onto the table as nimbly as she could manage, intending to run across it. If nothing else, it would get her out of the narrow corridor between the chairs around the table and the stone wall.
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Post by Dylan Cooper on May 13, 2009 7:50:33 GMT -5
She hadn't quite fallen as he'd hoped, but catching her wrist had set her off balance, and as his leg struck out he felt the satisfaction of a sharp impact. Apparantly, he had temporarily disabled her knee as she fell on the other to the ground. Consequently, when he swung around with his preferred fist, it landed squarely in her midsection. Not knowing the full impact of it as of yet, he was also slightly caught off guard when she swung one of the chairs around and it smashed solidly into his chest, the top catching his face and sending him reeling backwards. Snarling almost like a wild dog, he reacted with reflexes born of years of Quidditch training and struck out with his leg once more, aiming in the direction of where the chair had come from, though he could not see with his head facing the other direction as it was, trying to avoid any more hits from the chair in question.
His foot striking her lower jaw powerfully, he hadn't realised quite how close she was to him and consequently had overcompensated on how hard he had attacked. As a result he himself was forced slightly back and off balance, though he recovered quickly and moved forward once more, his eyes facing the right direction this time. After receiving the blow to the face, her hand seemed to have relinquished it's grip on the offending chair and he kicked it away angrily. It hit the stone wall nearest and fell over with a dull thud, but he didn't hear it. He didn't hear anything much at all, in fact, except the satisfying clash of his extremeties to her body and the blood pounding in his head.
He watched as she backed steadily away from him, his eyes and attention intent. Quite honestly, he had half expected her to take the fight to the room of Wind to perhaps give her a bit more of an advantage; it seemed that all she was thinking of, however, was to escape as quickly as possible. In a way, it gave him even more of an advantage. He knew exactly what she wished to do, and the longer she was denied that, the more desperate she would become and the worse off her fighting or defending would be for it; that was the tentatively hopeful ideal, anyway. As she began to pull chairs to try and block him, he laughed for a moment, a malicious sound that was nothing like the typical Dylan Cooper.
D'rorah hopped onto the table and a vicious grin surfaced onto his features. "Now now, D'rorah, let's be civilised," he said quietly, his voice full of nothing but malice. Striking one hand out quickly, he aimed to catch her ankle and trip her onto the hard surface of the table beneath, thus preventing her from dashing across the piece of furniture and reaching the door to freedom.
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Post by D'rorah Philosophy on May 13, 2009 14:29:36 GMT -5
D'rorah cried out as Dylan's foot struck her once again after she struck him with the chair. She was already fairly certain she had some cracked ribs, as breathing was causing sharp pains. His foot connected with her lower jaw, sending an explosion of pain ripping through her head following by a sickening crunch. Luckily, he also managed to throw himself off balance at that moment and that was what had given her the chance to rise from the floor as he threw the chair against the stone wall. She had put herself in quite a predicament in taking the long way around, as now she was near neither the exit to the hallway or the entrance to the room of Elemental Wind.
She considered her options as she hopped onto the table, but all too quickly found her ankle trapped within an iron fist. She stumbled and fell to her knees as Dylan admonished her to be civilized. She would have responded, if she hadn't been fairly certain that her jaw was already fractured from the blow she had recieved before. She took a deep breath. This situation had grown beyond her control. She had a feeling that she would find herself dead if she didn't get over her aversion to harming Dylan Cooper. Sickened by the action, she drew the swords that were sheathed underneath her overrobe and brandished them in a threatening manner. Summoning her last ounce of strength, she kicked at Dylan's hand as she yanked her ankle from his grasp.
She rose unsteadily as she kept her swords trained on him. She doubted she would be able to actually attack him with the weapons if it came down to it, but hopefully they would at least hold him at bay. Her chest heaved as she fought to fill her lungs with air and supply oxygen, every breath painful as cracked ribs protested. The physical injuries could be healed easily enough... she just had to escape so she would live long enough to seek a healer. Knowing it would be dangerous to turn her back on Dylan, she began slowly backing away from him towards the door, holding her swords at the ready.
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Post by Caitlin Collins on May 15, 2009 10:58:50 GMT -5
Having talked with Dylan after his return with a mention of her spellwork, Caitlin had been making a conscious effort to practice. She knew that at some point they would be meeting in the Room of Requirement to practice but wanted to improve at least a little before that she it didn’t look completely abysmal. Somehow he had managed to create an incentive (which she still hadn’t quiet identified yet) for her to put effort into getting her magic back to at least near its previous level. Magic had always come naturally once she'd gotten the hang of it; there had just been a few areas she always had trouble with, such as Herbology – but that was mainly just difficulties with remembering the names of the plants and all their associated properties as well as what they looked like.
And so she had been going to the Room of Requirement on quite a regular basis to practice her spells. She had quickly left her patronus after the incident in the ballroom when she had met Niobe, and after that stuck just to the hidden room on the sixth floor. Approaching the corridor, she checked around her for anyone else and then paced up and down thinking of the lightfighter's room. She had been training in the Elemental Room of Water, finding it the best place due to the relaxing feel of everything around her. She hadn't really been in it much since bonding with Mallan all that time ago, but having dared to venture in again she had found she most definitely liked the room.
Reaching out to pull on the door handle, Cait pulled open the door and froze at the sight that met her eyes; at that moment, Dylan was kicking D'rorah in the kaw. Dee jumped onto the table and Dylan was laughing quite maliciously at her... she looked hurt, and even as she looked on he reached out to grab her foot, knocking her over quite painfully from what she could see. This did not look like training, like she had come across D'rorah doing before. This looked like... like they were actually fighting, intent on causing the other harm. Specifically, Dylan causing Dee as much harm as he possibly could. Rumours had already spread of the confrontation in the common room where he had revealed her past, and although she hadn't really believed that he would be so cruel, now she could see for herself the unexplainable dislike he currently held against the older Ravenclaw.
It seemed she had discovered them at the right moment, because D'rorah was suddenly drawing swords on Dylan, and even if she was backing away Cait didn't want to risk either of them getting hurt... judging by the expression on Dylan's face, he had no intentions of stopping because of the metal blades. ((At least, going by what you said before about him not stopping because of them.)) [yellow]"Hey!"[/yellow] she called, wanting to make her presence known before she suddenly emerged from nowhere. Running forward she placed herself between the two, glancing from one to the other nervously. [yellow]"What are you doing?"[/yellow] she demanded, aiming the question more in Dylan's direction.
She had no intentions of joining this fight if things got out of hand, but instead planned to just get completely in the way if either of them began approaching the other again. She just had to hope that Dylan's sudden change in attitude towards D'rorah wouldn't decide that it didn't matter if she got hurt as well, otherwise her plan could well backfire... at least if that was the case then it would at least decrease the amount of injuries D'rorah received. She also had to hope that this was as it appeared, and that Dee did not suddenly wish to fight back more, because stopping both of them from approaching the other could also prove difficult. Her head turned from one to the other, waiting for a reaction and hoping it wouldn't be more attempts at fighting. She didn't know what Dee had done to make Dylan this angry and uncharacteristic, but assumed there must be a reason to it.
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Post by Dylan Cooper on May 15, 2009 20:58:22 GMT -5
Managing to successfully grab her ankle and bring her to her knees, he was slightly amused at her lack of response. His eyes watched extremely carefully as she drew her famed swords, the swords that he knew she could use expertly. Refusing to take a step back in reaction, he stood his ground, his expression not fading or changing to what might be considered concern or worry. Of course, he felt neither of those emotions, but he knew he had to be slightly more cautious now. His attention so focused on the blades, he was taken slightly by surprise, though he wouldn't have admitted it, as she kicked out at his hand, forcing him to release her ankle. As she rose to her feet once more, he noticed how unsteady she was, though whether from the blows she had taken or the swords she was directing toward him, he couldn't be sure. As she began slowly backing away, he moved step for step with her, but was soon cut short as another voice echoed within the room.
His eyes but not all of his attention flicking to Caitlin briefly, he almost growled in frustration. He didn't know how long she had been standing there; not for the entire fight at least, one of them would have seen her. As she ran between them, he relaxed his posture slightly, indicating that quite clearly, he would not attack Caitlin. As much hatred as he felt toward Philosophy, he still did love Cait as a friend, and he wouldn't harm her for the world. "Playing," he said simply, his expression clearly showing it was nothing of the sort. Obviously, this fight was more than over. With a mutinous look at D'rorah, he turned away from the pair of them and took a few steps around the room. Exhaling deeply, he closed his eyes briefly for a moment before re-opening them. He would not create some elaborate explanation to say that this was not indeed what it was; it was painfully obvious they had really been fighting; or rather, he had been attacking her. Of course, there was always the fact that D'rorah was unlikely to claim that anything else had happened, too.
He didn't consider what might come of this. He knew that he had done what he'd needed to, there was no question about that. Of course, no-one was likely to trust him again. How could they? Admittedly, the fact that they were both in Ravenclaw would make for interesting sport from here on in. But where exactly to go from here he wasn't sure, though something told him that none of that mattered; all he needed to do was to hurt her beyond recognition and all of his problems would be solved. Turning back to the two women, he glanced briefly at D'rorah before re-focusing on the Hufflepuff. "I'll see you," he said quietly, heading toward the door and the marble hallway beyond, suddenly ravenously hungry.
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Post by D'rorah Philosophy on May 15, 2009 23:58:15 GMT -5
D'rorah tensed as she heard Caitlin call out from the entrance of the room. As the Shadow Warrior of Water placed herself between Dylan and D'rorah, she couldn't help but tense. It had been a foolish maneuver, to place herself between the two of them when she wasn't sure what was going on. For a split second, D'rorah prepared to defend the other girl, but found it was not necessary.
Dylan's answer, that they had been playing, caused her to wrinkle her brow in profound confusion. She couldn't remember the last time she had been physically beaten so badly in her life... or, in fact, having ever been so... and he had the gall to call it "playing." Before she could even speak, he was already leaving the Room of Requirement. D'rorah made no move to stop him. Indeed, she wasn't certain she even could at the current moment. Just like that, it was seemingly over. Carefully, D'rorah sheathed her swords and sank to her knees. Dylan had only shown hostility toward D'rorah since returning, so she believed the others would be safe.
She started to open her mouth to speak, but found herself blinded temporarily by the pain in her jaw. It was almost certainly factured... along with cracked ribs that made breathing difficult. Now that the immediate danger had passed, she felt the accucacy of her injuries far more clearly. She would need a healer. She breathed shallowly, trying not to exacerbate her pain. Already, she would feel the swelling in the side of her face where Dylan had first hit her and a large gash where her head had struck the stone wall. Nothing bothering to rise from her knees and yet still limping slightly, she made her way to the edge of the table and gingerly seated herself, planning to dismount.
She eyed Caitlin and gathered her strength. [blue]"I need a healer."[/blue] Her words were quiet and stars swam in her eyes as fractured bones protested any further motion in her jaw... or elsewhere in her body. She held onto the elusive edge of consciousness as her feet touched the floor. She also needed a cover story. She couldn't very well go the infirmary looking as she did now without having to face relentless questions from the nurse. "[blue]Tell the nurse I fell down the stairs,"[/blue] she instructed, swaying slightly on her feet as the pain from her jaw sent arrows through her.
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Post by Caitlin Collins on May 16, 2009 17:28:35 GMT -5
Caitlin was relieved to see Dylan relax a little, and guessing correctly from his response that he did not intend to harm her to harm D'rorah. His verbal response wasn't quite as well appreciated though, and a small scowl flickered onto her face at the word 'playing'. How could he talk so lightly of this? With Dee standing right there, obviously badly injured, and he wasn't even taking it seriously? He couldn't even seem to put any effort into taking the expression of what looked horribly close to hatred off his face, and instead just turned and walked away.
He did not stay any longer than he thought necessary, and with three short words to Cait he effectively dismissed himself from the room, walking out. She didn't reply, still at a loss as to how to react to his sudden change in character. She'd never come across a Dylan like this before... he was a stranger to her; someone she had caught a glimpse of in the ballroom those few weeks ago but never really seen properly till now. She stared at the closed door for several moments before noticing that D'rorah had sunk to her knees on the table and hurried over closer to her.
She appeared to want to speak but stopped, looking disorientated as she opened her mouth. Her breathing was shallow and she had multiple bruises and cuts and gashes... The Ravenclaw apparently did not see fit to stay still and avoid further injury however – she began moving towards the edge of the table. Cait paused, ready to help if it was needed but not keen to put any unnecessary pressure on Dee's injuries – there were sure to be more currently hidden by her robes.
She agreed wholeheartedly that a healer was needed, but her eyes widened when D'rorah tried to rise unsteadily. [yellow]"Whoa, careful,"[/yellow] she blurted out in her surprise, quite convinced that moving while in pain would do absolutely nothing for her injuries and could quite possibly make them worse. [yellow]"Sit down, you'll make it worse."[/yellow] Cait rarely had the courage to tell anyone what to do (with the small exception of her younger brothers, who just really needed it sometimes) and it surprised even herself that she was doing so to D'rorah, of all people. She'd always been slightly intimidated by the older girl, but seeing her in such a state made her seem... more human. It was an odd way of putting the feelings, but she was pretty sure that was what it was. She wasn't convinced either about lying to the nurse about the cause of the injuries – Dylan was her friend, but he had done this... he had hurt D'rorah, so shouldn't he be held responsible? Perhaps it was best not to bring that up now though... Dee was the one who had been hurt, after all. It should probably be her decision.
She glanced around, not really sure what to do. The nurse obviously couldn't come in here, and she didn't quite trust her spellwork enough yet to risk trying to do all of this herself... but Dee couldn't move in this state; she'd just make it worse. And there, the room provided – sitting on the table next to where Caitlin was standing was an Invigoration Draught. It was unmistakeable from the one she had made numerous times in India and she reached out to push it towards D'rorah. [yellow]"That should help... and this..."[/yellow] She paused for a moment before actually drawing her wand, praying that this wouldn't go wrong. This was never a spell she had had any trouble with before, but with the recent depletion in her magical ability with a wand, she was doubting herself more than usual. [yellow]"Episkey,"[/yellow] she murmured quietly, focussing intently on the magic so that it would work exactly as intended. It was not quite as strong as she had previously been able to cast it, but several of the bruises and cuts faded and the very minor ones even disappeared altogether. [yellow]"Is that better?"[/yellow] she asked, hoping there hadn't been any ill effects she hadn't noticed yet. If it had worked as she intended, Dee would at least be able to stand and walk without looking quite so in pain.
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Post by D'rorah Philosophy on May 16, 2009 19:58:31 GMT -5
D'rorah heard Caitlin's admonishment to be careful and thought wryly that she was long past the point where care would help her avoid further injury. (ooc: I just have to point out here that D'rorah had been standing on the table, so now she's sitting on the edge of the table... just because reading your post, it seemed like you thought she was on the ground). Reluctantly, she resumed her seat upon the edge of the table at her comrade's request, not interested in arguing or trying to suffer through at the moment. She had sparred with Masters of the Order, had fought wizards possessed by Shadows in various villages where the Mage was attempting to take hold or was searching for other Lightfighters, never could she recall having been so bested in a fight. But then, it had hardly been fair... she had been utterly unprepared for Dylan's attack and had been reluctant to fight back.
With the situation as it was, she gladly allowed Caitlin to take control. She hadn't the wherewithal to argue with her. She accepted the Invigoration Draught as it was handed to her, steeling herself for the pain that would inevitably accompany opening her mouth to drink it. Her vision swam when she finally did move her jaw and her eyes narrowed in pain... though by now one was so swollen that one could hardly see the movement. She opened her mouth the least amount she could and slowly poured the potion in... even the act of drinking was painful, as her jaw moved slightly with every swallow. After the first swallow, she opened her throat and resorted to pouring the potion in, rather than drinking it.
She had barely finished when Caitlin had drawn her wand and was using an Episkey to help decrease the severity of her injuries. Between the two, she felt slightly less like vomiting from the pain, but her breathing was still shallow as cracked ribs protested the rise and fall of her lungs. She nodded slightly as Caitlin asked if she felt better, but felt her head swim with pain and dizziness as she made the movement. Given the fierce blows she had taken to her midsection, she hoped she wasn't bleeding internally. Ignoring any further protests, she stood and found the room stayed mostly still around her. The ankle that had been sprained by Dylan's rough grasp also seemed to have been healed so that she could walk with less of a limp. She motioned in the direction of the door, relegating herself to silent communication as moving her jaw generated more pain than she was willing to bear.
She took a stop forward, but found that her knee protested vigorously and found herself grasping Caitlin's shoulder for support so she wouldn't topple over, a strangled cry issuing from deep within her throat that caused her jaw to protest as well. She was no stranger to pain and the various wounds of battle, but this was wholly different. Now that she was no longer fighting for her life, her adrenaline had dissipated and her various injuries were shouting to make their presence known. Her only thought was to get to the infirmary... that, and she would have very much liked to have Kerridon's quiet steadfastness at her side this particular moment. Of course, as they had decided to keep their new relationship a secret for both of their protection, she couldn't ask for him or seek him out.
She caught Catilin's eye and gestured first to her jaw, which would have likely been beginning to turn colors already and definitely would have been swollen, and then made a slashing gesture across her throat to indicate that she couldn't talk. She wondered if her fellow Lightfighter knew sign language, but decided that communicating mentally would be easier. She tapped the side of Caitlin's head lightly with her fingertips, trying to warn her of what she was about to do. She forced her pain back, not letting it intrude into her thoughts as she communicated into Caitlin's mind. There was no need for both of them to be in pain. [blue]Fractured jaw, cannot talk. Injured knee. Possible internal bleeding from a blow to the midsection. Cracked ribs, hard to breathe. Infirmary.[/blue] The other girl would have to communicate to the nurse for her, because she certainly couldn't do it for herself.
She readied herself to move forward, knowing that the longer she waited now, the more the potion she had taken would wear off and the weaker she would feel. They needed to get to the infirmary quickly. Even the miracles of magic wouldn't be enough to save her if she really was bleeding internally and lost too much blood.
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Post by Caitlin Collins on May 17, 2009 9:19:28 GMT -5
((Thanks... edited))
Caity was relieved to see D'rorah doing as she had said and sitting back down on the edge of the table. The potion and spell did appear to have helped some, but not entirely... as she rose again, she still looked unsteady but Caitlin didn't know what else she could do that would work without the risk of making it worse. She eyed the older girl warily as she took a step forward, and rightly so because a moment later Dee was clutching at her shoulder to help her stand.
Slipping an arm around D'rorah to help support her, Cait tried not to put too much pressure anywhere in case she caused more pain by pressing down on bruises. Of course, if she did fall then Caitlin would probably be going down with her... she wasn't anywhere near strong enough to hold up the Ravenclaw all by herself. She wasn't entirely sure what D'rorah was referring to as she gestured to her face then made a cutthroat motion as well, and could only guess that there was something wrong with speaking if she was making those motions.
Despite the touch to her head first, Caitlin still jumped slightly as she heard the voice in her head and hoped that it hadn't jarred Dee's injuries, glancing over to check as the voice spoke. She gulped a little to hear of just how severe the injuries were, especially the possibility of internal bleeding... [yellow]"Okay,"[/yellow] she said, to confirm she understood what she had been told, and pushed the door open with one hand, holding it open for them both.
As they walked through the corridors a few people turned to stare, including another Ravenclaw she vaguely recognised as Kerridon, apparently one of their allies now. He didn't exactly turn and stare... but the intensity of his gaze on D'rorah as he passed by unnerved her a little and she was quite glad when he had passed by. Glancing back for a moment, she saw he was not doing similarly and was just walking normally.
Finally, after what seemed like far too long, they reached the infirmary, although when they entered the nurse wasn't in there. Heading for one of the beds, Caity extracted her arm from around Dee so she could sit and took a step back. [yellow]"I'll just go find the nurse,"[/yellow] she explained briefly, heading quickly to the office at the back of the room. Not long after, she re-emerged with the nurse, who hurried over to D'rorah immediately.
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