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| Answers; one of katy's charries | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Feb 4 2010, 03:40 AM (87 Views) | |
| Malcolm Fernando | Feb 4 2010, 03:40 AM Post #1 |
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His father was dead. Mal could feel it in his gut, the great Jack Fernando the unchallenged leader of the wolves for more than fifteen years had been murdered. He hadn't been seen in nearly two months, two moons had come and gone and no-one had heard anything from him. Not even a whisper. A part of Mal wanted to treat the no news as good news, news that he was captured but alive. His ability to think positvley had been stripped away from him the past few years, so believing anything other than the worst possible outcome was a difficulty for him. Somehow he knew that if his father was really dead there would be something, something nugget of information about him. The fact that there was nothing, that Jack had literally vanished meant that instead of grieving he was stalking through knockturn alley looking for a man who would almost definately have the answers. Despite what his gut was telling him, despite the fact that cynism had a cold hard grip on him, he had to know for sure. He couldn't assume, he couldn't trust his own negativity he had to know, beyond a shaddow of doubt that the werewolf he called father was gone from the world. Mal had been attending Hogwarts for the past 6 years, now in his seventh year he had forseen a future perhaps in the ministry. He had refused to believe his father who had warned him that attitudes towards their kind hadn't changed at all. At school Mal was treated as more than an equal, he was an idolised gryffindor, a wonder on the quidditch pitch and more than a hit with his classmates. His father had never known that feeling, he'd only ever known regection at the hands of wizards. Mal had refused to believe that once he left school he would find all doors closed on him. Then the dissapearances started. First a few straglers from the pack, nuisances to both sides. Then important werewolf figures, their best fighters, their well trained generals and soldiers who kept things under control. That was the deal struck with the wizards, we keep our 'problem' under control and you give us equal status. Wolves were hard to control, they were pack animals, and had their own hierarchy. Anyone wishing to disable or weaken the pack had to take out those at the top of that hierarchy. The last straw had been him father. Within two weeks of his dissapearance Malcolm had left Hogwarts and had set out in search of answers. The plot had depeaned further when last week he had been set upon by three highly trained wizards. They'd cloaked themselves, so he had no idea who they were or what their allegiance was...But they'd wanted him alive. In trying to take him alive they'd almost killed him, but Mal had gotten away thanks to a well timed apparation. Now he was hunting down an old friend, a friend he hadn't seen since he was a boy. A man who kept his ear glued to the ground, anything that went down...he knew about it. Mal turned a corner and walked into a very dirty looking bar. He took a deep breath and started walking towards the bar, ignoring all the customers who imedietly pegged him as a stranger, therefore not to be trusted. He walked up to the bar and ordered a whisky, before leaning over to the barman and asking in a hushed wisper, "I'm looking for Harold Trigster." Everything next happened very fast, he was quickly told that no such man had ever existed before finding a barstool had been broken over his head and he was being chucked out onto the street. He landed on the other side of the road, in the gutter, blood coming from the corner of his lip and maybe his head...He wasn't entirely sure because he was distracted by the sound of strong high heels clicking on the cobbles he was lying on. He looked over to see a women turn the corner, hood up, walking down towards him. He looked infront only to find the bar had vanished...Well that was clever, he thought, knowing that it had to be Trig's place, no-where else would have such a crude and clever security system. He struggled up onto his elbow, groaning quietly as he moved. He thought of Jack, of how many beatings that man had taken by the time he was Malcolms age...I've been so spoiled, he thought, wishing he hadn't had quite so cushioned an upbringing all of a sudden. Oh if you could hear me now dad, he thought bitterly as the woman stopped infront of him. He looked up at her and had to do a double-take. "Bloody hell, stalking me at school wasn't enough for you Tabatha?" he muttered, wipping blood from the side of his lip, his light hair getting in his eyes. "really hunny, you should just admit how you feel about me so we can stop playing tabby cat and mal the mouse." |
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| TABATHA GREENE | Feb 4 2010, 04:05 AM Post #2 |
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It had been a long day, a very long day. School hadn't even started yet and she was already struggling under John's strict regime, study, work, her daily medicine etc etc. She could almost feel the her shoulder muscles tightening as every minute moved on. So she had begged for a day off, a day in which she could get her shopping done, take a look around the shops before the hoards of Hogwarts students flooded into Diagon Alley and spoiled her summer break. It wasn't that she didn't like them, it was just that she couldn't be bothered with them. Well that and the majority of them were absolute bastards. Tabatha hadn't always hated her peers, she had once lapped up every ounce of attention that they gave her, revelling in her popularity as was expected of her. The beautiful rich girl with everything going for her. Who cared if she was in foster care, she got everything she ever asked for, everything she ever wanted. Did it matter to them that she had to take medicine every day to sustain her tedious life? Nope she had nice legs, good breasts and a pretty face. Thus that made her worthy of their friendship. But something was happening. Something above them all and she had an awful feeling that her life might very soon come crashing down on top of her and she'd never be able to shoulder the weight of what was left. She sighed slightly standing outside Flourish and Blott's with a contended smile on her face. It felt nice to get out of the house, sometimes she felt completely smothered and the more she tried to rebel the more John pushed at her to follow by his rules and regulations. Yes she knew she wasn't that well, and yes she knew that the world was waiting to take advantage of the little rich kid but that didn't stop her wanting to get out. She was after all nearly of age. She was about to head in when she heard an altogether too familiar a voice. She ducked out of sight, just behind the door, and watched as Louise Sullivan and one of her equally waster friends walked into the shop. So looked like she wasn't the only one wanting to get a jumpstart on the shopping for the year. Tabatha immediately did a U-Turn, not wanting to get into any bitching matches with anyone. Her legs seemed to be thinking for themselves, which was probably just as well because she had no idea where she was going. She entered Knockturn Alley without thinking about it. She enjoyed a tipple at the Beggars from time to time and the thought of having to make "nice" with her fellow students was beginning to make her a little bit sick. As vigilant as Tabatha was, she rarely expected to find men lying in the gutter, so when she turned round the corner heading to where she knew the pub was she found a rather unpleasantly familiar mop of blonde hair sticking up at odd angles only feet away from her. She smirked despite herself and approached the figure, straightening her skirt subconsciously as she did. She didn't like Malcolm Fernando. At least that was what she kept telling herself. Over and over again when the thought of him crept into her mind. Not that it really mattered, he'd upped and left school now. "Bloody hell, stalking me at school wasn't enough for you Tabatha? Tabatha rolled her eyes, trust Malcolm Fernando to brush over the obvious with a egotistical flirtation. Some people were too predictable. "really hunny, you should just admit how you feel about me so we can stop playing tabby cat and mal the mouse." Tabatha merely glanced at his face, blood was trickling from his lip, obviously life had been kind to him. She extended her manicured hand to him, and helped him to his feet, "Trust me Fernando." She said stiffly, "You really don't want to know how I feel about you. Wouldn't want to deflate your ego now would we?" She eyed the pub and then him, "What did you do to upset Triggy?" She asked with a small smile, "Still not learned to play nice?" |
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12:59 AM Jul 11