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Post by Dylan Cooper on Jan 1, 2008 19:20:39 GMT -5
Resolving himself to at least attempting to catch up on some assignments, he made his way down to the common room and found it virtually deserted. Supposing that on a day like this most people would be enjoying the weather or, given the time, consuming lunch, he found a vacant table beside a window and settled himself down. Sliding several textbooks onto the little square table, he figured he could probably use the empty room to practice some spells, too. He certainly needed it, afterall.
Deciding to begin with something relatively easy, he sought out his Defence textbook and extracted it from the pile. Setting his parchment, inkwell and quill before him, he dipped his quill into the jet black ink and set to flicking to the assigned pages. Finding them, he jotted down a few notes on both the creatures they had studied in a lesson he had been noticeably absent from, and the spells they had practiced. Sighing, he set the book aside after a few minutes and laid it on the floor, in what he silently declared as the ‘done’ pile.
Hearing the door knocker making what were quite possibly some obscenely lewd comments to someone trying to gain entrance, he looked up and toward the entranceway, An Advanced Guide to Transfiguration in his grasp. Numbly sliding the book back onto the table, his eyes widened slightly in shock, and he fought for his legs to stand flat-footed on the floor. Climbing from his seat, he moved quickly toward a noticeably dishevelled looking D’rorah. Not wishing to pester her with questions, he took her by the hand and quietly assessed her. “D’rorah...” he commented softly, trailing off. Leading her gently to the couch, he urged her to sit down and rest her body.
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Post by D'rorah Philosophy on Jan 1, 2008 19:40:55 GMT -5
Ignoring Gillian after she had walked away, D'rorah made her way up the stairs to the Ravenclaw common room, no thought in her mind other than a shower and a few moments to recuperate. She was therefore quite cross with the brass knocker as she waited for the riddle so she might regain entrance to the room. Ignoring the tasteless and somewhat suggestive comments made, she tapped her fingers impatiently against the sleeve of her forearm as she listened, half tempted to grab the knocker's ring and give it a good, hard yank.
Before she had even managed to close the door properly, she saw Dylan making his way toward her with wide eyes. "Fantastic," she muttered dryly. "Do I really look that bad?" She allowed herself to be led to the couch and followed his urging to sit down, ignoring the pressure she was placing upon her new bruises. Catching sight of herself in a nearby mirror, smiled wryly. "Well, I suppose I really do look that bad after all."
She looked up at Dylan. "It looks far worse than it is," she reassured him, not certain how truthful the statement was. "I was sitting," she pointed to the table by the window facing the Forbidden Forest, "in that very chair calmly going about my business when I happened to see a girl on a broom go careening out of control, crashing into the forest." She frowned slightly. "So, I immediately packed up my things, ran to my dormitory, and jumped out the window to fly down and help her. And was met with nothing but resistance. She would not run when I told her to, she thought she would face down Shadows with her patronus... then she thought she would face down a Wraith with one." Her jaw tensed slightly. "And then, while I was in Shadow form myself, she cast a patronus." She pointed with irritation to the burn which began on her cheek and extended down past her collar and over her right arm and shoulder. "And she had the nerve to think she was saving my life."
D'rorah exhaled indignantly. "I have managed to sprain my ankle, burn my face, and come crashing to the forest floor twice in the course of one afternoon. And that twit thinks I should thank her for saving me when she nearly killed me twice with her ignorance." D'rorah took a deep breath, realizing that she was on the verge of being angry, which would not solve anything.
She put on a sarcastically sweet fake smile and turned to Dylan. "So then, how has your day been?"
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Post by Dylan Cooper on Jan 1, 2008 23:26:21 GMT -5
Pushing her initial comments aside, he continued to gaze at her worriedly despite her assurances that she simply looked worse for wear. Listening wordlessly to her explanation as to how she got this way, he suppressed a strong urge to roll his eyes at the actions of the unknown girl who had flown into the forest. Noting the burn that travelled seemingly beyond the constraints of her high-collared robes and hearing of the damage she had sustained, he frowned heavily. Disregarding her final, sickly question, his eyes surveyed her, assessing the damage for themselves.
Withdrawing his wand, he found that his continued practice of the Summoning Charm had paid off. It only took him two attempts to summon the correct implements this time. The small jar soared into his waiting hand, and he promptly unscrewed the top and sent his eyes toward hers, asking permission for what he was about to do. Carefully, he set the jar aside for a moment and reached up to the top of her collar. Thankful there was no-one else about and that they should be at lunch or elsewhere for some time, he began to gently unbutton the top of her robes.
Finding a light, red mark descending over her body, he took a fingerful of the pale white cream and began to gently massage it in, his eyes flicking up to her face to ensure that he wasn’t causing any undue pain. Gently massaging the cream lower, he found his way blocked by propriety as he sought to ease the burning that must be evident along her arm. Forced to stop at the shoulder, he wiped his hand negligently on his robes and re-buttoned her own. “Is that any better?” he questioned quietly, having put the soothing balm upon any bruises he had encountered along the way as well.
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Post by D'rorah Philosophy on Jan 2, 2008 0:52:10 GMT -5
Noting that he disregarded a question she had mostly asked for effect anyway, D'rorah watched as Dylan summoned a jar of ointment and nodded slightly as his eyes sought permission from her. She sat quietly as he massaged in the cream, allowing her eyes to close for a moment as she waited through the light stinging sensation which came with the cream's coolness. Her eyes opened as he re-buttoned her collar and she smiled at him.
"Yes, it is much better, thank you," she replied quietly. "What sort of balm is that?" she asked. "It seems to have a hint of menthol in it, perhaps? I may have to get more... I managed to drop myself on the forest floor without the slightest touch of grace." She shook her head slightly and turned her eyes back to him. "I am interrupting your studies, am I not?" she asked, feeling somewhat guilty for taking him away from his books when she knew he was already a bit behind.
"Perhaps I should allow you to return to your reading while I have a shower. The heat should loosen these sprains a bit... and hopefully cause me to feel a bit more human in general." She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "You are simply remarkable. Thank you for the balm."
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Post by Dylan Cooper on Jan 3, 2008 1:31:19 GMT -5
“Just a muggle remedy from back home,” he replied in a subdued voice, his thoughts momentarily flicking to his mother and foster family. “My mother believed it to be handy with an active young boy trotting about and getting injured every which week,” he added softly, his thoughts lingering on his last encounter with that particular member of his family. His jaw tensing slightly, he cast his eyes down to the jar, glad to have an excuse to look away as he screwed the cap back on. He by no means blamed D’rorah for anything that had happened between her and Astraeus. He was just upset that things were the way they were, and that nothing he did could change that. Sometimes his mother was just too proud for her own good.
At the mention of his studies, he wished to nod but suppressed the desire, not needing a distracting headache at this particular point in time. About to refuse returning to his studies when she was in such a condition, he supposed that she could look after herself, afterall. A shower would probably be best for her right now, anyway. Smiling half-heartedly at the kiss to his cheek, his eyes lightened significantly at her comments.
“Alright… But you have to come straight back down, Miss Philosophy,” he said, his face the very essence of mock seriousness. “You deserve being waited on hand and foot, I do believe.” His exact words were no accident, preferring ‘deserve’ over ‘require’ for specific reasons. She would be alright, of that he had no doubt, but he was also sure that such events could be mentally taxing to a significant degree and that her Elemental Master was far from near, as far as he knew.
Thinking about it, actually… How had she even survived? From the sounds of it, there had been quite a few creatures to defeat, and even a wraith. Not only that, but an ignorant student who had only served to make things worse and D’rorah having to meld to shadow form… How had she kept her emotions in check? He had certainly not failed to notice her increasingly dramatic shifts of mood recently, obviously due to Kade’s absence. The question on the tip of his tongue, he held it back, knowing she did not need pestering questions right now. Leaning up, he gave her a small kiss to the lips. “I’m glad you’re alright, D’rorah. I honestly don’t know what I would have done if I’d lost you…” he commented softly, his eyes meeting hers.
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Post by D'rorah Philosophy on Jan 3, 2008 18:28:18 GMT -5
D'rorah smiled at Dylan's last comment. "Mister Cooper, I could not be taken from you forcibly by a pack of rampaging Reapers." She leaned forward and kissed him softly. "I shall return soon. I have much to tell you... but after a shower."
With that, she disappeared through the door housing the girls' dormitories and gathered her things for a shower. It was a longer affair than usual, including the assessment of bruises and testing of her sprained wrist and ankle. She thought for a moment, wishing she had taken Dylan's ointment with her... but then, she had endured far worse than a few bruises. They would fade quickly enough. The hot water helped immensely as it ran over her aching muscles and though it was longer than usual, it seemed all too soon she was stepping from the shower and going about the tedious process of drying her hair. It never failed that she considered cutting it every time she had to dry it and re-pin it. And every time, she dissuaded herself based on her father's love for those golden tresses.
She appeared in the common room and seated herself with Dylan. She glanced around. "I have not spoken to you since, but just the other day I joined with my new Elemental Master," she remarked quietly. "His name is Mallan Baine. I remember he stood with us that day in Hogsmeade. I was assisting him with his spellwork when we came across the discovery that he is, in fact, Mordred's successor." It was bittersweet news for her, her happiness somewhat dissipated by the fact of Mordred's death. But the relief of having her wits fully about her again was certainly worth it. She took a deep breath. "I also received intelligence that Wysteria Edwin was killed while in Romania investigating reports of vampires who had joined with Shadows."
She shook her head lightly and took another deep breath. She couldn't help but feel a bit of guilt. Were it not for her, those who had died would be happily going about their business... they likely wouldn't be dead at the moment. She thought for a moment of young Cavan, whom she had served first at the wand shop and had later run into at the stationers. Here she was teaching him language with the thought in her mind that he would make a good scribe for the Order. He was only eleven... so young... yet she had been even younger when she had been brought into the Order to train as a scribe.
There was no question in her mind about fighting the Mage and her minions... she just wished that good people weren't having to die. She, who had been once attacked and once actually captured by the Mage. It seemed almost unfair that she was still alive. Just because she didn't normally show emotion didn't mean she wasn't subject to her own emotions. Just because she was able to make the decisions dictated by cold logic didn't mean that she felt no guilt when those decisions caused a loss of life or serious injury. She could only press on and hope that soon such things would no longer be necessary. She had to hope they would triumph in their war against Darkness... without too much more tragedy. Unfortunately, it didn't seem her hopes would be realized.
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Post by Dylan Cooper on Jan 4, 2008 4:15:46 GMT -5
Watching her go, he let his eyes fall to the floor, as well as his arms. The very sight of her, battered and bruised, brought home the realisation that one day he might have to face the world without her in it. He had always realised, of course… But he was sure that it had never really sunk in until seeing her that way. Her wounds weren’t major, a few bruises and scrapes, a burn along her neck and arm. All in all, D’rorah was actually very lucky to be alive after the events of the afternoon, and Dylan realised it quite well. His eyes going blank at the thought… He might still be sitting in that very seat by the window, practicing Vanishing spells, and not knowing that he could have helped, that she had been so nearby; not knowing that the love of his life was dying.
How insignificant things seemed under the shadow of that prospect. And how much fiercer his desire to research, to conquer the Shadow Mage, had become in that instant. He knew, more than anything, that he would be lost without D’rorah in his life. Now that he had known her, he could not let her go. He would not… Not without a fight. Treading back to his previously occupied seat, he dumped himself into it unceremoniously, his blank eyes still quite content to stare aimlessly at the heavily carpeted floor.
He became aware that she had returned; he recognised her scent before anything else. His previously blank eyes flicked up to her as she expressed the discovery of her new Elemental Master; and surprisingly enough, he knew the boy. They had met only recently, someone who had only recently discovered magic. And what a coincidence… That he had just happened to discover the presence of magic in the world, only just happened to begin attending Hogwarts and meet D’rorah. It seemed her theory that the Elemental Masters and Shadow Warriors were drawn together was quite correct.
Noting the extensive nature of her next breath, he found himself, too, holding his own. Whatever she was to say, he expected that she was not happy about it. Slightly nervous, his face fell as she spoke quietly once more. His eyes searching the table surface, as if for answers, he had no inclination to keep his emotions hidden; plain as day was the shock and disbelief upon his face. He had met Wysteria only once… In Myrtle’s bathroom, no less. He had actually quite liked the Hufflepuff prefect… Had even hoped to get to know her better. Recalling the specific reasoning behind that, he also recalled that she was, most probably, the best friend that D’rorah had. To his knowledge, anyway.
His head and eyes flicking back up to D’rorah, he surveyed her carefully. He didn’t need to be perceptive to read her expression; he knew her so well. Reaching to take one of her hands into his own, he squeezed it lightly, his eyes attempting to find hers, sympathy swimming through them. Wysteria Edwin, with all he had heard about her, was indeed a great loss, on both the battle front and on a personal level.
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Post by D'rorah Philosophy on Jan 4, 2008 18:51:13 GMT -5
D'rorah couldn't help but smile at the sympathy in Dylan's eyes. He knew her so very well. Now she had the task of figuring out the rest of the conversation. Knowing Zane had been close to Wysteria, he had naturally been the first she had told. What could she tell Dylan of his confession. He had a right to know... but how would he react, especially when he learned who it was?
"There is more," she remarked quietly. "I... Well, knowing that Wysteria and Zane Bishop were close," she interrupted the thought. "Has Keaira already told you that Zane is the new Elemental Master of Metal? She only found out just the other day... much to her surprise. I suppose we shall not see Professor Serlaen again." She took a deep breath. "I wanted to inform Mister Bishop first upon receiving the information that she had been killed while in Romania investigating reports of vampires who had joined with Shadows." She was rambling, which was very unlike her, but given the circumstances, she thought it was forgivable; though all it did was delay the inevitable. "Yes, I thought I would inform him first and in private. He was understandably distraught and said many things, mostly repenting for the person he used to be, apologizing for..."
She clenched her jaw slightly, wanting to smack herself and have out with it. "Dylan... it seems that Zane was the one... was the one who attacked you that night before the Masque." She watched him for reaction, prepared to hold him back, prepared for whatever emotional outburst her statement might have prompted. He had certainly earned the right to an emotional reaction to her revelation. "I... I only found out yesterday," she explained. "I had not seen you or I would have told you sooner. I know you have a right to know... but I must ask you not to ask against him. As an Elemental Master... well, we need him." And then she fell silent, wondering if her words were falling on deaf ears, certain a million emotions must be flooding through him.
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Post by Dylan Cooper on Jan 4, 2008 22:38:02 GMT -5
His expression falling slightly as she stated that there was more, he wondered what could have her so… so unnervingly unlike herself. She was speaking far more than usual, and her words, for once, seemed vaguely useless, as if she was delaying what she really meant to say. It wasn’t like her at all, and it got him slightly worried. His eyebrows knitting together and a frown forming on his face, he was about to prompt her to speak of what was clearly on her mind when she simply came out with it. Appearing confused for a moment, he felt her words finally begin to sink in and his eyes cut away from her own, resting on the table but seeing none of its contents.
Pulling his head back in a slight movement of disbelief, he pushed his chair back and abruptly stood on his own two feet, his hand jerking away from hers. The rest of her words were lost somewhere inbetween her mouth and his mind, not registering at all. He was only vaguely aware of the fact that she was still speaking, in fact. Turning away from her, he swallowed with difficulty, something apparently jammed into his throat and causing him a slight discomforting pain. What he did pick up, as his mind raged with thoughts of every way to deal with this, of everything he might do, was that Zane was untouchable.
As an Elemental Master, Dylan quite understood that Zane would not be able to gain the retribution he most certainly deserved. Quite unable to believe that such a thing could go unpunished, he pertinently kept his face away from the eyes of D’rorah. He did not want her to see him like this. Caught in an endless maze, his mind swirled with angry thoughts of vengeance and yet, with an infuriating notion that nothing could be done. They needed all the help they could get for the upcoming battle against the Shadow Mage, and Bishop was certainly a part of that. Without him, they could not wield the power of Yin, and they could not risk him… accidentally dying, because they could never be sure that the next in line would surface soon enough.
Clenching his jaw in anger, in frustration, he recalled the meaninglessness of the promises D’rorah had made to seek revenge, to seek justice upon the person that had inflicted these wounds upon his body and mind. How stupid everything seemed in light of the fact that they were powerless to react, to do anything. Tears of frustration welling in his eyes, his legs moved him around aimlessly, first travelling past another window; presumably the one D’rorah had used to fly out of earlier, and then he came to rest in front of the fireplace. Watching the flames, his lip curled slightly in disgust.
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Post by D'rorah Philosophy on Jan 4, 2008 22:58:05 GMT -5
D'rorah watched Dylan's facial expressions shift with the morbid fascination most might have in a horrible wreck. Though it might be a gruesome and painful scene, it was impossible to look away. As realization dawned in his eyes, he looked away from her. And then he abruptly stood and jerked his hand away. D'rorah felt as though someone had cleaved away a part of her own hand. She could almost feel the throbbing pain of an amputation pulsing through her fingertips as he turned away.
As he finally came to rest facing the fireplace, D'rorah rose from her chair. A million apologies were on the tip of her tongue. She well knew she had been the one to vow that she would find his tormentor and bring him to justice. And now she would have to break that promise. It was difficult. D'rorah had always believed that promises were not to be regarded lightly and was fighting with herself internally over the entire issue.
Seeing the set of his jaw as she approached, she hoped he would understand. Coming up behind him quietly, she placed her hands on Dylan's shoulders. "I know it is difficult, but we can come through this together," she remarked quietly. "I love you," she added quietly as she pulled closer, resting her chin in the space above his right shoulder as her arms wrapped around him from behind. "Shall I be Jephthah for you? I promised to kill the person when I found him... I am loathe to betray a promise. I should have never made a vow I could not be absolutely certain I would keep... but this is something I never foresaw."
She listened for his answer, wishing she could protect him from all of the horrors they were having to endure this year... wishing the entire episode had never happened.
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Post by Dylan Cooper on Jan 4, 2008 23:47:32 GMT -5
The crackling flames reminding him of exactly how much pain he had endured, not that he needed any particular reminder with how often his thoughts dwelt on the event, he thought back to when he had first met Zane. A Slytherin in the Ravenclaw common room had certainly struck him as odd, and he surmised that since that night D’rorah may have continued to research with him, Dylan being as useless in that area, as well as any other, as he had been at that particular time. Thinking of the politely extended hand, the charming smile, his eyes narrowed in disgust. Through the halls of Hogwarts, that abomination was roaming.
Feeling her hands slide onto his shoulders, his eyes withdrew from actually watching the flames and they became a background image as he focused on nothing at all. Simply experiencing the feel of her hands upon his robed shoulders and naught else, his ears absorbed her words dully. Hearing her words of love didn’t seem to help much, really, so immersed was he in his own thoughts and frustrations. They did have an effect, however. Crunching his eyelids together, he fought back the slight tears that threatened to overwhelm him and pour from his eyes. His head turned slightly towards her own, newly situated in the crook of his neck and shoulder.
Vague words of comfort travelled to the forefront of his mind, but she said it all for him. Indeed, who could foresee such a thing? “It’s alright, Dee…” he replied quietly, his eyes casting a sad reflection of the firelight before him. His arms moved to rest upon her own, currently adorning his torso, and he held onto her longingly, wishing for everything to simply fade away. How different things might be if he had fought back, had discovered the identity of his attacker on that night and they had separated enemies. Everyone would know… And yet they would still be forced to be cast into this uneasy alliance. He supposed, really, that it was better for everyone else this way. Everyone bar him.
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Post by D'rorah Philosophy on Jan 5, 2008 5:04:54 GMT -5
Still in that space about his shoulder, D'rorah's arms tightened around him briefly. There just weren't really any words at the moment. Oh sure, there were things she could say, but really they be just that--words to fill the silence. She was comfortable with silence around Dylan, and thus didn't feel the need to fill the space between them with words. Despite the situation, she could merely enjoy being close to him once more while the common room was empty. In fact, she was thankful it had been empty, considering the topic of their conversation. Given that Mordred had pulled Kerridon from his place as spy (a position he had filled quite well, without arousing even her suspicion), she assumed it was safe to have this conversation. Even if not, news of Wysteria's death had almost certainly reached the Mage and her minions more quickly than the communique from the Order of Light.
"I was told by my Master many years ago that the purpose of our struggle was to bring balance into the world, that we would have to learn to respect the darkness within ourselves and within all beings or perish if we rebuked that darkness. As much as I dislike what has happened, he was correct. Our side does not seek to eliminate Darkness from the world... there must be a balance of both in order for the world to survive. Sometimes it is necessary to compromise our ideals in the name of reaching the greater good. We have our darkness..."
She took a deep breath and kissed his cheek. "Things will be better, love. I am certain they must." Taking him by the hand, she led him back to the couch where they had been sitting. It took only a few minutes to curl up with him, she allowed her eyes to close. Through the background of her mind, she could hear the sounds of students coming into the common room as they day, as the world itself continued along its rusted track. At least with the strength of each other to lean on, they would get through this.
((I figure we'll end with them on the couch for this thread. What do you think? Feel free to do a wrap post, I'd be interested to hear his reply to the Master's words of wisdom. Hehehe))
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Post by Dylan Cooper on Jan 6, 2008 19:42:09 GMT -5
His eyes being cast away from the raging fire before him, the next few successive blinks lasted abnormally longer than usual. Snuggling into her as much as he was able in his current position, he was exceptionally glad that the common room was, still, deserted. It helped enormously that he didn’t need to bother worrying about what people might think, or even, not that it was likely, coming to question him on what in particular was wrong. He simply didn’t have the energy to deal with people right now, but Dee was different. She could support herself in this situation, and he needn’t worry about her feelings because he knew she was strong enough to deal with them herself. Of course, it didn’t stop him worrying about her feelings, but the fact of the matter was there anyway.
Tilting the convenient ear toward her in order to listen over the crackling of the fireplace and the noisy turmoil of his mind, he tossed her words around in his mind. In all honesty, they didn’t altogether need to be tossed around. They were fairly straightforward, and made sense. Childishly, he wished that her Master wasn’t right; but realistically, he sounded like a very wise man indeed. Inhaling deeply, he nuzzled himself into her kiss and allowed himself to be led over to the couch. Seating himself and finding his eyes drawn to the flames once more, he drew them away. Instead, he wrapped his arms around D’rorah and settled into a slightly more comfortable position, holding her close and resting his own head atop hers.
Thinking for a moment, his eyes were inevitably drawn back to the bright orange flames licking at the ceiling of the fireplace. “As crude as it may sound… We all have the ability to fight the darkness within, to an extent at least.” His mind was drawn to the memory of a particular paragraph of text in which he had found the attempts of the Shadow Mage’s minions to destroy the innocence of any Shadow Warrior, to bring them into shadow. He recalled the many times, increasingly frequent as they were, that D’rorah’s eyes had faded to black and showed none of the emotion and woman he saw in her usually grey eyes. “Perhaps it would be easier for all if darkness stayed dark and light stayed so, too. There would be far less pain and confusion in the world, at any rate,” he said quietly, a slight tinge of sadness in his voice.
Swallowing noticeably, he brought her closer to him and allowed himself a brief reprieve from working; he had been struggling along with his studies, spells and training over the last few days and it was wearing him down. He needed some rest and relaxation, realistically, if he were to keep functioning, anyway. A worked-to-the-bone Elemental Master would be of no use to anyone when it came time to fight, and so he simply enjoyed the time he was able to have with her, his lips meeting the top of her head before he settled in for a light nap.
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