seven devils * wolf

[juniperthree]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 440px; height: 600px; background-image: url(http://media.onsugar.com/files/2011/05/19/2/1643/16439966/d7/Freida_Pinto_Mumbai_Magic_-_Vogue_Italy_285_29.jpg); -moz-border-radius: 250px; border-radius:100px 100px 100px 100px; border: 3px solid #ffffff;] i'll rip my heart in half just to keep you whole, the sounds, the smells, the sights of this place terrified her. it stank of misery, it screamed of despair, and most of all it looked like a looming, ominous cloud of disaster on her horizon. but still she walked on, through the muddy, churned-up ground, avoiding splinters of icy frost and dancing through crowds of unhappy, tortured souls. well, perhaps her terror made everything that much more empathetic for her, but seeing so many people in a state of unmitigated emotional and physical pain was almost too much for her. if it were up to her, she would have turned tail and fled back home and hid under her bedsheets until the next morning came. but it was not up to her: she had no control over this. her heart said that she had to do this and she would rather die than let her heart down. the truth of the matter was that, though she was deathly afraid, though she could hardly breathe through the tightness of her chest and could hardly see through a veil of unreleased tears, though her hands trembled and her resolve wavered, she kept on walking. wolf needed her. all the times she had needed him, he had been there, and now it was her turn. she didn't know what she could do, she didn't know what could help him, but she swallowed her fear and she took each step one after another. she'd never called herself brave, and she still wouldn't after this: it was necessity, not bravery, which caused her to do this. and she was frightened beyond anything she had ever experienced before. she couldn't imagine what it would be like to be a prisoner here. she could hardly think of who else she might see if she looked to the right or the left, so she kept looking forwards and she bit her lip to keep from whimpering softly, like she had on occasion. to show weakness here would be to betray her friends who had to suffer so much more than a little bit of fear. poor otter, or vitt, or poor victoire - and dominique! that thought sent a wave of tears to spring afresh from her eyes, and she couldn't keep these ones down. they rolled down her cheeks silently as her teeth tugged on the insides of her mouth to keep it closed. there was so much hopelessness in the air, she couldn't breathe, it oppressed her lungs and crushed her heart. but still she kept walking, hoping for any sign of the person she was searching for. wolfy, her wolf, snatched out of his home. she didn't know what had happened, but she had turned up with breakfast for him to find his little house messed up, door wide open and off its hinges, and the signs of a struggle all over the floor. there had been only one explanation, and without a second glance she had got herself all the way from muggle bristol to hogsmeade. she had to rescue him, she had to do something. she was pathetic, she was useless, but she couldn't sit by and let him turn into one of these people around her. blinking away her tears so she could see, a careless glance to her left revealed the back of someone's head, someone she instantly recognised: how could she not? with a whimpering, half-human scream, she ran towards him, kept apart by a fence. they had fenced him in, like a creature, no more than a dog. what right had they to treat human beings like this? what right did they think they had? instead of a rage like it might have evoked in another person, it tore her heart in two to think of it, but she could do nothing more. what could she do? gripping the fence with tense, white-knuckled hands, she waited for him, her chest heaving and tears following each others' tracks down her cheeks quietly. "wolf," she said, so softly he couldn't have heard her. "wolf..." there can be only one mikey! for vika and her wolf, wearing this

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[vika2]

I am fueled by filth fury. Do what I will, I will hurry there. My arms are wheels, my legs are wheels, my blood is pavement. Blood is pavement.

Hyde was slowly learning that insanity was like a bottomless well. He’d thought he’d hit rock bottom a long time ago, although he’d always believed he would stay down rather than climb back up, as other people wanted him to. Instead of getting better, he’d become a better actor. However, that situation had grown on him and he’d learnt to live very well with his guilt and self-loathing preventing him from moving on, an oil stain on his wings. Happiness was foreign to him, but he’d come dangerously close. Especially when he was around his dearest, he felt odd fluttering in his insides, that was even better than an upcoming erection. Something had sparked the moment he’d saved Cel and the universe had been kind enough to allow her to slowly but surely start saving him – and then it had taken her away. Or actually, it had taken him away. He sat on the frosty ground, dragging his fingertips back and forth over the rocky surface that served as his carpet, his cushion, his bed and his only entertainment. It was his fault – he’d misbehaved, he’d been aggressive, insulting, disrespectful and thoroughly dangerous. From the moment of his capture up to now, he’d ripped off fifteen limbs and clawed his way through unmentionable masses of wizarding flesh. They’d come too close, underestimating the young boy, and he’d gone all out. His wand had been taken away, but the few free seconds he’d had between the disarming and paralyzing spell had been plenty for him to rampage. He was a monster. He’d affirmed that. He didn’t care.

There was nothing left. His mother wouldn’t miss him until the summer break – and even that was doubtful. She might think he’d graduated and left home without a notice, which wouldn’t be a weird thought. Their relationship was long gone, it was a farce. She felt obliged to feed him and clean up after him, just like he automatically ate her inedible, raw cooking and dropped a couple of names now and then, to insinuate having friends. The only one he’d really worried about was his baby, his semi-adopted sibling, his true patronus form. He missed her physically. Crying was very tempting now he was behind bars, out of everyone’s reach and sighs, but he was too exhausted for that. He was standing on the edge of everything – he could actually picture it when he closed his eyes, so he did – everything lay underneath him. The ground might as well be blood, the sky was non-existent black and the incredible galaxies beyond were other people’s lives, lives that contained emotions other than rage and horniness. Was he hallucinating? He opened an eye and saw Celestia, which affirmed that yes, he was. He numbly stared at her, not even trying to draw comfort from explicitly detailed mental image. ”Silly Cel. I love you.”

[juniperthree]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 440px; height: 600px; background-image: url(http://media.onsugar.com/files/2011/05/19/2/1643/16439966/d7/Freida_Pinto_Mumbai_Magic_-_Vogue_Italy_285_29.jpg); -moz-border-radius: 250px; border-radius:100px 100px 100px 100px; border: 3px solid #ffffff;] i'll rip my heart in half just to keep you whole, if celestia were half the girl she was she would have leapt on that fence and torn it apart with her bare nails, ripped her hands to shreds, thrown herself on it and climbed aimlessly over. but she wasn't half a girl; she was all there, which was more than she could say for her wolf. he seemed somehow... broken. so accustomed to being the fragile one, who needed to be held together by his strong arms and his entire presence, she didn't think she had it in her to hold him together, all of him. there was just so much, and she was only so big. she could barely touch his shoulder if she jumped, and knowing her she might sprain an ankle on the way back down. she knew it was impossible, she knew it was fruitless to even try, she knew it was a pathetic rescue attempt and she could hardly even call it that without kidding herself. most of all though, she was hit by the emotion of everything. overwhelmed by being in the centre of it all, the young girl - so used to being on the periphery, of being unseen and uncared for - couldn't think, couldn't breathe for the suffocating hopelessness of their situation. with her fingers curled around the gaps in the wire, she sobbed a few ragged breaths, enough to get oxygen to her brain, enough to get her thinking again, an listened to what he said. silly? silly? she had come out here all on her own on a rescue mission to save him and he called her silly? something was evidently wrong, and it wasn't just like half the time when she surprised him with a visit and found him conked out on a couch somewhere, mumbling about visions of illusionary creatures. this was more terrifying than hilarious, this was hard to swallow. she really wished she had brought someone with her, someone whose hand she could hold. but this was her struggle, and she would cope with it. "hey, wolfy, hey, hey, look at me!" she said harshly, looking him in the eyes and rattling the mesh that separated them, snapping her fingers, making any noise to snap him out of it. "i came all this way and i am not going to lose you now that i've found you again!" her voice was shrill, desperate, and she knew she was as much talking sense into herself as anyone else. she couldn't deal with this, all these politics; she had warned herself to stay out of it. but now, of course, she had thrown herself right into the deep end. there can be only one mikey! look who's posting! wearing this

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