Post by Lance Ulrich on Aug 6, 2011 16:31:48 GMT -8
Sunday, August 28, 2011
5:00 a.m.
It was done, then. The poor fool who had happened into the facilities only moments before he had had done the deed and quite successfully. Lionel and his companions had been distracted by the arrival of another person just at the moment the Imperius'ed fool had poured the potion into his drink, and by the time he had looked back, the fool had been gone. Now, it was just a matter of time until it reached the papers regarding Lionel's "unfortunate" turn to insanity and his untimely death in some cell in Azkaban. He wondered what picture the reporter who covered the story would paint of Lionel. Would it be positive? Negative? He obviously hoped for the latter, but who knew? Lionel Blake had been an upstanding member of society. No one had even suspected, as far as he knew, what a cretin the middle-aged man was...had been?
Lance sighed, staring off at his shadowed reflection in the mirror only feet away from the foot of his bed. His one leg lay straight out before him, the cold bottle of firewhiskey resting against his bare leg as he sat there in nothing but his boxers. The other was bent and laid to the side. It was comfortable for the time being, though twinges of loss of sensation could be felt on occasion. He could care less right now. He was relaxing--or at least as much as one could at the moment. After all, he had at least done his girlfriend one favor. No longer would Lionel Blake ever stand a chance to harm her, and it would not be at her hand. No link could be made to her. He doubted now that any link would ever be made to him. Most would dismiss it as Lionel Blake trying to save himself from further humiliation and offing himself after his arrest that night at his niece's engagement party.
Still, Lily would be stuck with the engagement as far as he knew, and that was something he could do nothing about. Ian Langston was a healthy young boy. He couldn't even attempt to kill him without some sort of suspicion falling upon him. Nevertheless, at least Lionel would be gone...was gone...? He could no longer cause scars and bruises to her soft skin. No longer could he strike fear in Lily's heart or cause her to cry. No longer could he control every aspect of her life. Regardless, what would Lily think of him?
The face Lance stared at was now the face of a murderer. It was still a familiar face, still his face, but it was no longer the face of a young man who had brought no harm to anyone. He may have figured that would be a part of his future, given his rank as a Death Eater and given his plans for his own future. Killing someone would eventually become second nature. It would have to for any of his dreams to see reality. But for now, it bugged him, and he couldn't quite lay his finger on why. Lionel Blake had been a man deserving of so much more than the death he had given him, and in the end, the death he had brought to him would be a release for the fool, who, had he made no move to kill him, would have suffered such a strong effacement of his reputation that he would never be happy again, would never see the life he had held before restored to him. Maybe that was it, that he had ended his potential suffering, unwittingly, and had, in effect, spared him.
The young man took a long swig of his firewhiskey, finishing the bottle, which had been his second. Without so much as a thought as to whether or not it was smart, Lance removed a third bottle from his package of firewhiskeys. He had a strong buzz going on, but it was far from comfortable. If anything, it was only further numbing, and numbing was painful. Still, he continued in his drinking. He would regret it come morning, no doubt, but he would deal with that then. He had bought a bottle of pre-brewed "Sober Me Softly" potion in case the day before. Hopefully it would be enough, but he didn't care right now.
Lance's hand shot out for his Wizarding Wireless, missing it miserably. Instead, his hand overshot and hit the candle that was burning, knocking it to the ground. It hit the ground with a loud crashing sound, and the stick candle departed its holder and rolled quickly towards the curtain, the small flame burning just under the curtains. The young man's eyes went wide. "Scheiße!" he exclaimed, rushing over towards the curtains, the bottles of firewhiskey crashing to the ground from his bed. Miraculously, they did not shatter, but he did fall forward on his face. Dazed, Lance groaned and lay there for a moment before realizing precisely why he had got up in the first place. He shoved himself up again, taking the candle and blowing it out as though it were a trick candle that would light up again in only a moment if he didn't blow just right.
Once it was satisfactorily out, Lance threw it to the wayside and looked at the curtains, which were steadily catching more and more on fire. The smell was awful! What was he supposed to do? He needed water or something, right? Well, it would have to be the "or something" right now because he had no water, and he could hardly think of the spell to make water. For once, his Ravenclaw smarts were failing him. Understatement of the year, perhaps.
The man looked around his room, trying to figure out exactly what he had. Firewhiskey was about it liquid-wise. (Thank Merlin he could not see his potion ingredient stash.) He eyed the bottle in his hand cautiously and then the fire. Something in the back of his head was telling him this wasn't a good idea, but he couldn't figure out why. However, Lance soon found out he should have listened to his gut when he had to quickly back away from his curtains, screaming like a girl.
Before his very eyes, the entire right panel of his curtains was engulfed in bright orange and yellow flames. "Ahh! Ahh!" he screamed, dashing for his wand. What was that spell? What was that damn spell? What was even the Latin word for "water"? It sounded nothing like water or Wasser. Crap. What was it? "Aqua...?" he mused aloud. "That is a word. Aquamenti?" He waved his wand as he said the word, but it produced nothing but a few bright blue sparks that quickly fizzled out. Lance groaned, then looked at the fire and screwed his eyes shut. It was weird still seeing red behind his closed eyelids, but he supposed that was normal. "Ummm.... Spell! Think! Ummm...." Thank goodness he was home. But Merlin, the headlines if he didn't think of this! "Aqua...agua? Aguamenti!" This time a small stream of water shot from the top of his wand.
A-ha! That was the spell. He recast it, this time with more certainty. The flames were soon doused, and Lance, exhausted from the heat and alcohol combined fell back onto his bed, his wand rolling to rest by his side when he released it. His hand came up to his brow, wiping the sweat from it. He needed a shower. Yes, a shower, and then he could have more to drink. Maybe.
Of course, that required sitting up and then standing, and he was exhausted. Still, he needed a shower. He may be half-naked wearing naught but his boxers, but he still was sweaty and gross, and he hardly wanted that on his sheets. So, the young man opened his eyes, which burned against the smoke that now filled the room and was likely spouting out from under his door. Guess it was time to open a window. Groaning, he pushed himself up and forced a window open. Wind gusted in, and much to Lance's horror, a face formed in the smoke. Again, he screamed, this time far more loudly and terrified than before.
((Don't worry about making your reply this long, lol. Lance just kind of decided to write a long post.... =p))