blackdogstar | Ryslig Inbox

We need to talk.

Right, not ominous at all. Where are we meeting?

[He considers for a moment, trying to settle himself. It's not just a psychological necessity, but a physical one, as his fingers keep passing through the keyboard by mistake when he's this agitated.]

Somewhere private. Back room of the café. The kitchen. It should be closed enough.

I need to tell you what I did back home. Before she works it out.

I'll be there in less than an hour.

[Regulus will be waiting for him. The café is a few degrees colder than it should be, the shadows a little too dark. Most of the customers have left as a result, and the cats are yowling complaint at the disruption to their nice warm beds.]

[He can't stay still, is the thing. He keeps pacing, leaving trails of dark shadow like smoke where he passes, slipping in and out of solidity. He knows perfectly well he ought to be patient, but every minute Sirius doesn't arrive is a minute longer to consider what's coming and what's already happened.]

[The locket. The bloody locket.]

[When Sirius does arrive, Regulus stops dead, pulling himself quite literally together, and presses his lips taut, his nostrils flaring for a moment.]

Come through into the kitchen. I'll put the kettle on.

[It is impossible to miss the sort of extra darkness that has seeped into the cafe. The shadows seem to absorb light, and Sirius feels goosebumps rise on his arms from the chill.

He watches Regulus's slightly translucent form drag back together with only a little pinch in his eyebrows to give away his concern.]

Sounds good.

[The fluffy orange cat who has decided Sirius is his friend meows and trots over to bonk against his ankles.]

What, you wanna come too?

[Regulus sighs, starting through the back doorway marked STAFF ONLY, and beckons Sirius with him.]

Don't bring the cat in. I try not to encourage them in the kitchen.

[Judging by the cat hair that's visible on the stone floor of the kitchen, he's only moderately successful. It's a fairly small room, warmer than the front of the café - although whether that's because of the oven and range along one wall, or just because Regulus hasn't been in here as recently, isn't clear.]

[There's a table in one corner, and a few chairs - extras for the café, mostly, since Regulus doesn't often sit down here and, in any case, doesn't need a chair to do so. He levitates one of the chairs over to the island in the middle of the room, indicates for Sirius to sit, and goes to fill the electric kettle in the corner.]

How much do you know? About what I did after you... after you left?

I see.

[He sees cat hair on the floor, but he doesn't push it. He gently nudges the ginger out of the way on his way through the door, watching as the cat stares and tail-twitches in irritation. Sorry, friend.

There's a few creases on his face as he closes the door and stares at the offered chair. He considers for a moment before deciding finally to sit.]

Other than being dead? Not a damn thing.

[Regulus nods tensely, and is quiet for a moment, listening to the kettle begin to bubble. At last, he pushes up his sleeve.]

[The Dark Mark is still there. It's one thing he doesn't seem able to shapeshift away. It sits on his pale arm like an accusation, oozing an odd darkness from the flat and no-longer-enchanted lines of the tattoo.]

[He presses his lips together, and doesn't meet Sirius' eyes.] I'm assuming you may have guessed that part, as well.

[He clears his throat, tugging his sleeve back down and reaching for the kettle. It hasn't quite boiled yet, but it's close enough, and he just wants something to do that doesn't involved looking at Sirius.]

I joined up officially when I was sixteen. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time. It really did. He...

Persuasive arguments were made. I was a true believer. I know you don't understand how it would follow, and in hindsight I'm not sure I can even remember why it made sense to me, but... but I thought we were making the world a better place. I honestly did. A sacrifice for the greater good.

[He realises, belatedly, just how defensive he sounds - just how defensive he is. Making excuses for something he can't excuse to himself. It's pathetic.]

[He clears his throat again. Shadows swirl around him, agitated tendrils of darkness.]

That's not the point. I'm not... you aren't here to hear me talk about that.

Suffice to say, I started to doubt. I don't know when. I suppose it crept up on me. The... the violence of it, the things He said that didn't add up, the lack of thought or respect for the traditions we were supposedly fighting for. All kinds of things.

[He's given up on making the tea. It's taking too much focus to keep his voice level and low, and to keep his form vaguely solid, and not to shroud the whole room in hungry, heavy shadow.]

I suppose it came to a head a month or two before I turned eighteen. The Dark Lord demanded something from me. Someone, actually. Kreacher. He wanted him to run an... errand, he said. A mission for the cause.

[His voice isn't entirely level now, and a shiver of darkness runs through him, the room dimming noticeably. Some guilt is hard to tie down into a human shape.]

He told me nothing. Nobody ever told me anything. When the Dark Lord tells you to do something, you do it. He's not someone who asks. So I lent him Kreacher, and Kreacher did as he was told, and Kreacher...

He could've died. He was meant to die. I sent him to die. He trusted me, and I nearly killed him.

[Sirius doesn't flinch when he sees the mark, but he can't completely hide the way he guards up upon seeing it, his clear eyes going unfocused. He nods, he did guess. Nobody stays with the family in loyalty like Regulus had without becoming a Death Eater.

He struggles to listen, to maintain composure and not just go off on Regulus like he usually would. It's difficult, but curiosity compels him to listen through to the end. Regulus is defensive at first, in a familiar way.]

I'm sure you did.

[It's quiet but no less harsh for being so. Regulus always took every spoonfeeding their mother ever gave him, or seemed to. A passive sponge for opinions. He does manage to lower his hackles again when Regulus changes the subject, nodding to encourage him to go on.]

That was always the part that was strange to me. That you believed all of it. You aren't stupid, but you didn't see the hypocrisy.

[But this isn't what Sirius was summoned for. He was summoned to hear a story. So he will listen.

At first, hysterical laughter bubbles inside his chest. Kreacher. Losing your own brother wasn't enough, you had to lose a house elf to realize? He wants to say, but he's busy holding everything in as his chest and shoulders shake.

A moment of thought, though, and it makes a little more sense. Someone vulnerable, someone without choice, that Regulus felt responsible for. Sirius lets out a long, slow breath.]

Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you finally noticed how fucked up all of that shite is, but it is rather funny in a horrible way that it took the near-death of a house elf to get it through your skull. Killing innocent human beings wasn't enough for you?

[If looks could kill, Sirius would be dead right now. For a moment, the room seems to hold its breath, the shadows tensing and drawing in, pulling towards the teary-eyed, glaring shade.]

He was my responsibility! [He almost shouts it, to his own embarrassment. It's very hard to regulate his emotions right now, his usually vice-like grip on his mien completely lost.] He was my friend!

[For a moment, his form shudders entirely out of humanity, turns into a cowled and winged thing with eyes that blaze white fire, serpentine tentacles winding and twisting behind him. The temperature drops noticeably, the shadows heavy and claustrophobic.]

[He fumbles one hand onto the edge of the counter, and when he pulls himself back into roughly humanoid shape, his fingers are clenched on the countertop and sinking a little way into the marble. He takes a deep, shaky breath.]

I know I was wrong, Sirius. You don't have to rub it in. I'm just telling you what happened.

[The shadows recede, little by little. The effort in Regulus' face is almost palpable. So is the sharpness in his voice, peevish and almost childish.]

Do you want to know how I died, or not?

Regulus goes all spooky shadow man on him, but Sirius doesn't seem to care at first. He's a bad Gryffindor bitch, you can't kill him. His time in Azkaban has only made Sirius more fearless from the other side of it.

He does have some sympathy for Regulus, now that he's on the other side of this, though, so he reins himself in, lifting his hands palm out when it starts to be clear that Regulus will let go of his rage.]

You're right, I don't. It does make sense, when I think about it from the responsibility angle.

[None of the people that had died were Regulus' people. Bloody Slytherins. He lowers his hands back down to his lap.]

Less talking, more listening.

[Regulus is quiet for a long moment, as if waiting for something. The shadows seem to be doing his breathing for him, pulsing and receding, pulsing and receding - but receding a little more each time, at least.]

He made it home. He was almost dead, but he made it. Mother and Father knew he had been lent out, so it was simple enough to keep him hidden while he recovered. When he was strong enough, he told me what had happened, and I started to plan.

[He's pacing again, or at least pacing as much as someone who's never shown much evidence of legs under those unnaturally black robes can pace.]

You see, Sirius, I knew what Kreacher had been sent to hide. It took a little research, but it was simple enough to piece together. The locket of Salazar Slytherin. The need to hide it so thoroughly. The changes in His attitude thereafter. The Dark Lord made a Horcrux.

[He stops moving, and the way he looks at Sirius, cheeks still stained with tears, is accusing; his tone is suddenly nothing but bitter.]

And before you say anything, yes, I thought about finding you and telling you. Then I thought about how, if I was going to wind up dead or in Azkaban regardless, I'd rather not do it with you laughing at me.

[And yet, here we are. Petty. Stupid. But he's said it now.]

So I decided to deal with it myself. Kreacher was invaluable, as always. He told me what to expect, what the security measures were. I did my own research into the Horcrux itself. I determined that it would be impractical to destroy it in situ, and if possible, I wanted to be far away from Grimmauld Place when I did destroy it. I also...

...You know, there's remarkably little written on how to actually destroy one. I thought if I replaced it, with a replica convincing enough to fool Him when He inevitably came to check in on it, then I could disappear and... and study it. Work out what to do.

So I made a replica, and I, um. I waited, I suppose.

[He clears his throat, folding his arms uncomfortably over his chest. This is already a lot more of the story than he's told aloud before, and part of him says he should cut it short there: I went after the Horcrux, I died, the end.]

[But part of him knows that he's probably never going to find the courage to tell this story again, and... Sirius deserves to know. If anyone deserves to know the details, both for their suffering and for their closure, it's Sirius.]

[Also, for all that he wants to have it over with, he finds himself oddly compelled to include every detail, every feeling. To make Sirius understand.]

I had to be careful, of course. It wouldn't just have been me that He killed, if He knew. Luckily, He had almost as low an opinion of me as you did, and Bellatrix taught me enough Occulumency to get past a passing glance from even Him. I don't think...

I know He didn't suspect anything. She didn't suspect, and if He had, she would have.

It was, um. It was cold, when we went. Kreacher didn't want to go, but I needed him - the cave was warded against standard Apparition, you see. That's part of why the Dark Lord took him in the first place. It was cold, and blowing a gale, and we were out on a spur of rock in the North Sea. It was even colder inside, I think.

We needed to move fast. The first ward was activated by blood, and if I were in the Dark Lord's position, I would have ensured that it alerted me at once, not only that there was an intrusion, but from whom. I thought we had about an hour in hand, for how long it would take to fly to the cave in the weather. I set up a ward of my own at the entrance, to warn me if He did arrive, and I just... hoped he'd come for me, and not Mother and Father, I suppose.

Kreacher wasn't doing well. I don't think I fully understood then. I do now, and I, uh... He'd almost died in that inner chamber. Of course he wasn't doing well. He kept begging me to go back, but it was too late. You understand that, don't you? It was too late to go back. I was dead the moment I smeared my blood on the Dark Lord's ward. I needed to be dead for something.

[He laughs suddenly, a sharp, high-pitched sound that doesn't sound at all like him. The shadows are climbing the walls again, winding around him like smoke.]

So I, uh. We. We had to cross a lake. A... a still lake, unnaturally still, and in the middle, there was an island. An island where Kreacher nearly died. He showed me where to find the boat, and we got in, and it was so bloody slow I almost screamed, but in the end we were on the island. And there was the locket, in the basin, just like Kreacher said. It...

[Another of those cracked little laughs. His eyes, which are the only part of him not cast in deep shadow now, are full of fresh tears.]

It didn't even look that much, you know? The poison was only a few inches deep. I knew it had to be drunk, that was the only way to get to the Horcrux. I knew I had to drink it, and I knew it was... I mean, I'd seen what it did to Kreacher. I knew it would hurt. But it really didn't look like that much. I think I actually believed it was all going to work, for a minute.

You've got to remember, I wasn't even out of school yet. I was stupid. I was just... I was really, really stupid. I didn't even know how stupid until a few months ago.

[It's easier to remain quiet, after his little outburst. Regulus is giving so many details, and Sirius has a feeling that he needs to get this all out. He needs to talk about it, and it's some kind of honor that he's telling Sirius. Even if he doesn't know that Regulus hasn't told anyone else, it's still something special.

So he listens, feeling his desire to laugh at Regulus slip away. He had known what year Regulus died, but it never really struck him how young his brother had been when this happened. His face is unreadable until a soft creasing starts to pinch his eyebrows, and something that Regulus might or might not recognize as pride shining in his eyes.]

Stupid? Maybe, but only in the way that courage in the fact of serious danger is stupid. Regulus you did something really brave. You... you really are... [So much better than he ever gave credit for] so changed.

[He stands up, walking over to Regulus' shadowy form and attempting to rest a hand on his upper arm, if Regulus will stay corporeal.]

I wish you hadn't had to do it alone, and I will take some of the blame for that. But I'm... proud of you.

[He's not sure what to expect. Pride is something he's so rarely seen in the face of family. As Sirius approaches, Regulus watches him with suspicion, as if waiting for the trick.]

[Nonetheless, when Sirius reaches out to him, Regulus is solid. Not entirely solid - there's a kind of haze around him, a cold, thick aura that crackles like the air before a storm - but solid enough to touch. He doesn't say anything for several moments, his white eyes flicking from the hand on his arm, to his brother's face, to the room around them, to Sirius' face again.]

[He shakes his head, and his glowing eyes dim as he closes them.]

Don't be.

I could have got out. I could have actually made a difference. If I'd just had a bit more self-control... He tried to stop me, you know. He told me the water was just as dangerous. But I was so thirsty. I was so thirsty, and I was so tired, and I...

[Under Sirius' hand, Regulus' form shivers and loses solidity for a moment. The shadows that make up his form are achingly, stingingly cold.]

[He shakes his head, opening his eyes.]

It didn't do anything, Sirius. Worse than nothing. They work it out eventually, and they go to the cave to destroy it, and because of me, it isn't there. Because of me, there's a piece of the Dark Lord's soul in Kreacher's den and the war goes on for years more. And now, I'm pretty sure there were more Horcruces, so even if I'd succeeded...

It wasn't brave. I should have just turned myself in.

[Denial is not something Sirius expected, here. He stares with lifted eyebrows at the wall behind Regulus, slowly peeling himself back to hold his brother by the shoulders.]

Were you always this bloody hard on yourself? You stood up to Voldemort himself, almost directly to his face, after living with our family your whole life. You did it basically alone. You had Kreacher but he could only do so much. You drank poison left by the greatest evil wizard ever! That's bloody stupid brave!

[He shakes his head, looking slightly up for a moment as he does some mental math.]

Fuck you weren't even done with school yet were you? An underage wizard, getting past Voldemort's own magic wards and booby trap. Give yourself more credit. I don't think very many could have even gotten as far as you did.

[Regulus isn't sure what he expected, but it definitely wasn't this, and he's not at all sure what to do with what might actually be pride. Or, for that matter, with Sirius claiming he's being hard on himself, when he's not. He's really not.]

[His shoulders aren't quite solid under Sirius' grip, the freezing shadows giving a little under the pressure, lapping at Sirius' fingers like dark water. He sags, biting his lip.]

It was bloody stupid, anyway. I'll take your word for it on brave.

Anyway. Now you know, I suppose. Better late than never.

[Sirius sighs, his own shoulders sagging. He's better now about knowing when to stop, so stop he does.]

Allright well, we were both bloody stupid and now we're somehow both alive, so... I guess it could be much worse.

[He pulls a crooked smile.]

Thanks, for telling me.

[Regulus actually does smile back, although it speaks more of weariness than of any actual happiness or humour.]

Thank you for listening. [Even with his flares of anger at some of Sirius' responses, this has honestly gone much better than he'd expected.]

Bellatrix has it now. The Horcrux. Or... well, something that looks like it, at any rate. I didn't entirely manage to control myself when I saw that.

In any case, she knows a little more than I was hoping she would, by now.

[Regulus gets one last squeeze to the shoulder in acknowledgement of that thanks. His brotherly smile doesn't last long at that mention of Bellatrix, though. He looks, frankly, horrified.]

You don't think... the thing still has a piece of Voldemort in it, do you?

[Please Merlin, no. The last fucking thing they need.]

No. No, I think...

I think it might have a piece of her in it, actually. Have you met any liches here?

[... Is that worse? That might be worse.]

Can't say that I have, no.

Well, they have phylacteries. Not unlike a Horcrux, though by all accounts easier to destroy.

Unless I'm much mistaken, Salazar's locket is hers.

[He's not entirely sure why he's sharing this information. Definitely not in subconscious hope that Sirius or someone else can use it against her. Definitely not. He's loyal to family.]

[Sirius blanches just a little bit.]

Okay. Right, phylacteries. I think I read about that somewhere- it's like an external heart or something? And hers is Salazar Slytherin's locket.

Yes. That's more or less the shape of things.

On the bright side, it no longer actually has Him in it. On the less bright side...

[...It might as well, for how it feels to look at it.]

...she's definitely not going to let blood be a barrier to getting some kind of revenge if she finds out what I originally planned for it.

[Sirius' face is wrinkled with disgust, when all at once it forms into a snarl much like the lion of Gryffindor house, bared pointed teeth and all.]

If she thinks she's going to lay a finger on you, she has to get through me first.

[Regulus flinches a little at that look - it's just a little too Black, just a little too furious, to be comfortable, and he's still not exactly on an even keel anyway - but, at the same time, it's almost... nice? Yes. Nice, to have Sirius defensive over him. It feels like it's been a long time since that was the case.]

Don't be ridiculous. I'm stronger than you are.

[Regulus flinching is more than enough to get Sirius to calm down, relaxing his lips so he isn't snarling at the least, though his eyes are still cold as ice.]

You're not. But LaStrange is certainly weaker than both of us combined.

[Regulus is very tempted to retort that actually, yes, he is. Maybe not in their own world, maybe not in the place where Sirius is so well-liked and talented, but here? Where he's spent years getting to know his new - and complete - monster form, and where he has powers through the Fog that most monsters do not? He is, objectively, stronger than Sirius.]

[But he's self-aware enough to know that saying so would just be picking a fight. And, really, it's not the point. His smile is genuine.]

It's been a while since that was an option, hasn't it?

[His eyes are still chilly, but they warm slightly with something bittersweet and nostalgic.]

It has.

[Longer, in fact, than Sirius is even aware of. It's hard to track the passage of time in Azkaban, practically impossible.]

I'm going to have your back this time, Reg.

[It's an impulse, one he wouldn't usually give credence to. Right now, though - right now, for once in either of his lives, he actually does feel the need to offer a hug. It's clumsy and awkward and brief, but it's still a hug.]

Thanks. And I...

I'm sorry I didn't have yours.

[Sirius has no verbal response to that, because he fears anything he says will either take them down a road of arguing about who let whom down more, or ruin the moment. He just returns the hug with a tight squeeze, far less awkward about it than Regulus.]

[He really hoped he was going to think of another way around this. But... no. He's back in Ryslig, and the wedding is this month, and so far, no ideas.]

[And he's already left it too late for party planning, really. But... well. Bert asked him to be best man. He doesn't want to let a friend down.]

Sirius, I need a favour.

Please.

[Knowing Regulus, this could either be something terrible... or he just needs Sirius to pick up some sugar for the cafe.]

Can I know what it is before agreeing?

A friend of mine is getting married this month. He asked me to be his best man.

I understand that means I'm in charge of arranging a stag party. I thought you might be able to help, since I'm

[...him. Since he's him.]

not the best party planner. It seems more up your alley.

Excuse me you have a friend close enough to make you his best man and I haven't met him yet?

[Sirius is delighted, and he could be such an arse about this if he wanted to... but he doesn't. So he reins it in, but barely.]

It would be my pleasure! If I may negotiate two things in exchange? Firstly, I might need help affording nice clothes to wear. Secondly, I want to be your plus one to the wedding and party, obviously.

[Well, this was inevitable. Still, Regulus heaves a deep sigh and runs a hand down his face before replying.]

Yes. Cuthbert Allgood. I live with him.

[If he just drops that in like it's normal and obvious, maybe Sirius won't make a big deal out of it? Maybe?]

And there's no negotiation required. Both terms are fine. Let me know what you need, I have some savings set by that I'm happy to draw on for this.

[Well, keeping Sirius and Bert apart was nice while it lasted.]

Cuthbert!!

Must say, well done keeping us apart so far. Sorry it has come to this and utterly failed for you.

[He is not sorry.]

Oh excellent, excellent! Is the fellow a bit more of a playful type, then? Since you're asking me instead of planning it yourself?

Sometimes, failure is inevitable. I suppose I shall just have to shift my efforts to minimising how often the three of us are in a room together.

[He's joking. Sort of. A little. Not really.]

He's certainly more of a playful type. Rough and ready, you might say. Very fond of terrible puns, bad pranks, and silly comments. Design a party for one of your friends, and I'm sure it will do quite well.

How lucky for me I can shrink down small and slip through cracks

[Also kidding. Maybe. Probably not.]

Interesting. Very good! Leave it to me! I'll get back to you with a budget soon. I'll try not to fly off the handle with it.

I left the Fog.

Can I talk to you, please?

Oh, shit.

Yeah of course, I can pop out of the usual ring in a few.

[Because of course he keeps a fairy ring right by the farm.]

Thank you.

I'll put the kettle on.

[When did that become such a natural response to stress? He's not sure, but he's grateful for it anyway - it's something to do, and a reason to become solid enough to do it, when he's been blurring restlessly in and out of having any kind of form.]

[Knowing Sirius is coming is also a good reason to pull himself together enough to look roughly human, and not like a dark, shrouded shape. He knows that makes his brother uncomfortable. So it's a fairly ordinary-looking, if tired and rather shadowy, Regulus who answers the door when Sirius does arrive.]

[How stereotypical of you, Reg. Still, if it helps him soothe himself, Sirius isn't going to argue.

He does pop out of his ring out in the farm fields, zipping on his clear wings toward the house. He knocks gently, as he lowers himself back to the ground. It's a brow-pinched Sirius standing there when Regulus answers the door.]

Hey.

[Regulus blinks, looking as though he's not entirely sure what to say even to a simple Hey. In the end, he says nothing at all, gliding aside and holding the door open to invite Sirius in.]

[When he does speak, it's meant to be something neutral and polite, but that isn't what comes out at all. It turns out that beyond a certain point, thinking about the same thing all day means you just come out and say it.]

Someone pointed out it's a pattern. Do you think there's something wrong with me?

[Regulus has never been a wordy man, but his absolute silence when faced with the worlds most simple greeting doesn't bode well.]

[Sirius realizes abruptly and acutely that he is not remotely qualified to be emotional support to anyone, let alone his own brother. His mouth opens, and closes.]

I think there's something wrong with all of us, Reg. You're going to have to give me more to go on. What happened?

[He doesn't even complain about "Reg". That's where he's at, right now.]

[He doesn't answer for a moment. He's trying not to answer, not to let everything come tumbling out all at once - trying to get his thoughts in order, and marshalled into something calmer and more rational than he feels.]

The... [When he gestures, shadow follows his movement, afterimages drifting like smoke. Or fog.] The bubbles. The past.

She lied. I believed her. But she lied.

[The room is very cold. Around them, the shadows - there are a lot of shadows, this is a house inhabited by shades and vampires, after all - pulse and shift oddly, as though fidgeting.]

[As his voice rises, just slightly, Regulus is starting to pulse and shift, too. From slender youth to black-cloaked, skull-faced void; from pale to dark; jittering and shifting like shadows on a windy day.]

And it was the same lie! Just like Aunamee, just like...

[He trails off there. He never knows how to refer to Him, these days. Dark Lord is too respectful for how he feels; Riddle too blunt; Voldemort too much like an invitation.]

I keep believing people. Believing in people. And it's always the wrong people, and I should know, because it's always the same lie, and I'm just...

[Without entirely realising it, he's gone intangible. There's a dark mist hanging in the air, vaguely human-shaped, and even that is flickering into the now unnaturally-dark shadows around them. His voice seems to come from a distance, and from nowhere in particular.]

I'm stupid. Was I always this bloody stupid?

Edited 2022-03-13 14:26 (UTC)

[He is so, very, deeply not qualified for this. Sirius fights the urge to answer immediately yes and simply breathes in deep through his nose. His antennae tremble on his head, his wings fluttering nervously behind him. He doesn't know what to do, what to say. He isn't even sure he follows everything Regulus is saying.]

None of us can go around not believing in people. I think we have to just... to be... [He's say human but they aren't that any more, are they?] Just to be. I don't know why you stick to the ones you stick to, I never really understood how you think, and I'm sorry. I could have done more to try, and I didn't. But... it was safe, wasn't it? When we were little. It was safe to believe with we were told, kept... kept you from getting hurt or getting yelled at. You just... developed the habit, I guess.

[He drags his sharp nails back through his hair.]

I'm not exactly free of my old habits either. It's hard. To change.

[The shade reappears, now sitting with his back against the wall and his knees pulled up to his chest. The glow of his eyes, and the sickly greenish skull behind it, is all the clear form there is to him.]

It didn't stop anything.

Mother still yelled. Especially after you left. I think it made Bellatrix worse. And... and it almost got Kreacher killed. It did get me killed.

I should have gone when you did. I should just have listened to you, if I was going to listen to anybody.

[He raises his head, white light from his eyes reflecting on the tendrils of darkness that snake all around him.]

I'm sorry. About the shadows. I'm trying to...

...I can't control it. [I can't control myself, he means. These are more feelings than even he can tamp down.]

WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, PADFOOT. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 010.01.719.22 * CHARACTER NAME/ALIAS has joined 018.07.154.55 <USERNAME> First sentence of message. <BANNED USER> SCREENED MESSAGE. UNSCREEN? Y/N -- sample for when you ban someone <USERNAME> First sentence of message. <USERNAME>** First sentence of message.

Ryslig Inbox

<TruthSeeker> - backdated to the end of the October fog

<padfoot>

<TruthSeeker>

<padfoot>

[Action]

[Action]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

<TruthSeeker>

<padfoot>

<TruthSeeker>

<padfoot>

<TruthSeeker>

<padfoot>

<TruthSeeker>

<padfoot>

<TruthSeeker> - October 24

<Padfoot>

<TruthSeeker>

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject