accio_rp | The Inspection

On the whole, the weather had been temperamental lately. One minute, it was absolutely bucketing it down, and the next, it was bright sunshine. The amount of rain had turned the ground into a muddy mess, but at least the tents provided perfectly adequate shelter, and a gazebo had been erected over the community dining table to protect everyone from the elements.

Despite the temperamental weather, however, it had been fairly warm throughout the past two weeks, so the chill in the air during dinner that evening was particularly noticeable, even before the dark, hooded figure by the Ministry's representative's desk had been seen.

Nervously, the Ministry representative approached the table.

"I'm afraid we have a visitor," he said, addressing everyone at the table and hoping that anyone not there could hear him. "This is a Dementor, one of the Guards at Azkaban. It's a high security prison. He's just here to, well, ensure that a certain escaped criminal isn't hiding amongst you.

"I don't expect he'll be here for more than an half an hour, so do try not to worry too much. They can make people rather, well... uncomfortable."

Bowing his head slightly, he left the Outsiders to their meal.

[And so, a Dementor is lurking around the camp, just in case one of the Outsiders is secretly Sirius Black. They're known to sap the happiness out of the environment, and - in cases where there are true horrors in someone's past - cause traumatic memories to resurface.

The chilly, depressed feeling can be lifted by the deliciousness of chocolate, though the Outsiders will need to discover this on their own. Good thing there's dessert.]

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[He's a little dazed from the fall, blinking a bit and sitting up, rubbing his shoulder with a wince. Okay, that hurt quite a bit...

It takes him a minute to register that Lenneth is there, stiffening up defensively and leaning a bit away from her timidly.]

...yes...

The darkness in your body. Is it from this world, or your own?

[No time for compassion and tact, not if this world could have worse things than the creature she just faced.]

D...Darkness...?

[He stares at her blankly for a moment, but as he thinks, it registers in his head what she's talking about. That defensiveness begins to border on straight panic.]

H-How do... you know...?!

It is obvious.

[She can't even imagine that it would not be.]

If there is a creature here that caused it, we should know.

...

[He looks terrified now, even beyond before, but he's so afraid he can't even move now.]

...No. F...From home...

[She relaxes. It isn't evident externally so much as it's just a sense of pressure from her decreasing.]

I have no intention of causing anyone to bring harm to you.

[Including herself, but phrasing.]

[It doesn't seem to help -- this is a kid who's been hurt from every angle and thing you can think of, even a lightening of pressure isn't enough to make him feel calm.]

....

[Sorry, Lenneth, he doesn't look like he believes you.]

Edited 2012-08-21 02:00 (UTC)

...You are used to mistreatment, are you not.

[Not quite a question, not quite a statement. Certainly an observation, thoughtfully-phrased.]

[That pretty much hits the nail on the head. He nods slowly, pulling his legs up to his chin. At least he doesn't seem inclined to bolt at any second like he was before, but he doesn't look any more inclined to get close.]

....

[He runs his hands backwards through his hair, but the odd placement of them makes it look more like he's trying to mimic the wings on her helm.]

[The idea that a mere mortal, even a corrupted mortal, could sense her nature when disguised is... ]

[Unlikely. But not impossible.]

...What do you see?

...Pretty.

[It's a small word, but he's looking... well, right at your armor, Lenneth. It seems he can see it fairly clearly...

Especially when he mimics the wings again.]

...It seems we both see in the other something we shouldn't.

[That is dangerous, but not disastrous. Well-aware that she might be underestimating this child, she nevertheless has no desire to cause him any grief.]

I will keep your secret if you will keep mine.

[He perks up at that, looking both a mix of relieved, confused, and hopeful. He nods fairly rapidly.]

Promise! I won't... tell anyone.

Neither shall I.

But if this is a world of magic, keep your eyes open. A cure may exist. You would be wise not to let fear prevent you from seeking it.

...Cure?

Can... it be...?

Magic can accomplish many things. It may be possible.

[And now he's sitting straight up, looking beyond hopeful.]

I... I'd... be really happy... if it would... go away...

[And here comes a bout of tears.]

[She isn't the maternal sort. Don't expect much in the way of comfort or consolation.]

The true test of a soul is not in the quiet peace of home. To forge a sword, you must pass it through fire.

[He didn't, he just has these freakouts fairly often.]

...What does a sword have to do with it...?

It is a metaphor. It is merely to say that you cannot have strength without pain. You will grow stronger, if you do not break.

...I don't want to be stronger. I don't like... being strong.

Weakness is not a virtue to aspire to. In your case, it seems you do not have the luxury of it.

But the stronger I am, the more I can hurt people.

Just because you 'can' do something does not mean you 'must'. If you cannot stop yourself from hurting others, even if you do not want to hurt them, then you do not have true strength. Only power.

...Then... I want strength. I don't want power...

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