picking up the past // [OPEN] May 13, 2012 14:09:32 GMT -8
Post by Fierro Darque on May 13, 2012 14:09:32 GMT -8
23 Nov 2011
Fierro yawned and pushed the rags he was using as a blanket off of his body. It was cold, but his mind and restless legs were so active that he didn't need the warmth over him. He sat up, threw his head in his hands and let out a breath. The complex that was once thriving in a lower class part of London was now turned to soot and ash, a slum only frequented by thugs and those who had no other place to stay. Sure, he had the Manor but at least here he would not be sought out, at least he'd hoped. The last bit of fear he had left hours ago, when a handful of thugs were trying to ransack the place next door, which had been abandoned for a few months.
This place once belonged to his daughter, Kara, who was now being held captive in a secret location, though he assumed it was Azkaban. They always threw the criminals in Azkaban. But was she really a criminal?
He sighed again to himself, realizing what his internal monologue was trying to say. Fierro was struggling to justify Kara's actions as partly accidental, partly defense. The Death Eater girl who had fallen at her hand was inexperienced. The teacher she was once romantically involved with had been corrupted...
The face of Fierro's late son-in-law was haunting, mostly because he was there to see the massacre, the final moment where Kara had taken her own husband's life. But why? He kept asking himself. So many times that question rolled through his head. Why? Kara was no killer. At least, not a cold-blooded killer. She was once an Auror, a witch trained to hunt and to protect the laws of their world, but when the world becomes broken, what laws remained to be upheld? The Ministry was using her as a weapon but he did not dream that it would be of this caliber. Still, Fierro couldn't wrap his head around this idea. Maybe it was because he refused to, but he could not give in to this reasoning. His little one, someone already fragile from the brainwashing of Williams and his wretched regime, recovering and married to the man she loved...finally living a normal life...had become a killer.
It had been months since he made contact with anyone, even Jonathan, who seemed to be the last of the few people he could trust. But as he wallowed in these facts, these questions about what had been going on as of late, Fierro wondered if now was the time to come into contact with his old friend, and summon him back to their realm now that most of the dust had settled. Jonathan's leg was healed now that he had proper rest, and Fierro knew that he could not take any action alone. Not against these tyrants. Not now.