Amycus Carrow

“is there someone else?”

“I… no. No.” Amycus looked sharply away and then back, worrying his lower lip while his mind tripped over the right words. Did the right words even exist? “But there was. Or, what I mean is, you were. The someone else.” Shit, shit, he wasn’t saying any of this the way he should be.

Regulus hated this. Viciously and viscerally. He hated what Amycus had done but even more he hated that his response to any sign of genuine distress on Amycus’ part - his instinct to be protective and reassuring. Amycus didn’t deserve that right now and Regulus spent so much time focusing on what Amycus needed - on what everyone else around him needed, honestly - that he felt guilty when he even so much as considered putting his own feelings first.

It was all too much.

“You manipulative, selfish bastard!” Regulus bit out, his voice rising but never quite reaching a shouting volume - shouting had been practically programmed out of Regulus during his childhood. “All you can think about is how you feel and how you look. You might think you hate yourself but you also know that I could never stand to hear you say it so you…use this now to-to…This isn’t about you.”

Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Amycus was really trying to apologize. But Regulus was past being rational. “You stayed with me and that poor girl for months because…I don’t know…what was it, Amycus? Were you hedging your bets in case one of us left? Or were you just greedy?” Regulus walked forward and grabbed Amycus’ wrist, turning him around forcefully, his other hand taking hold of his wand in case Amycus tried something. “I don’t care if you feel guilty or if you think you’re an awful person - maybe you should since you did an awful thing.” Regulus felt that he was loosing track of what he was trying to say, but all the hurt was pouring out as if a dam had broken. “I don’t care if you want me to stay or if you need me to stay or anything of the sort. You know, oddly enough right now, all I actually care about is the fact that I tried my best to love you and you…you couldn’t even decide for month if being with me was worth letting go of your emotional safety net.”

Regulus let go of Amycus’ wrist and put both hands over his face because this was a fiasco and he had just made it worse by saying a lot of un-thought through and hurtful things. All he wanted was someone to tell him that he had every reason to be angry and upset. He didn’t know if he wanted Amycus to do it or someone else but he wanted to stop feeling like he had the responsibility to resolve every situation in the best, most mature and compassionate way possible. Perhaps he was simply feeling sorry for himself. Probably. Almost certainly. But Sirius did it all the fucking time so perhaps he could have a turn too. “And I have no idea what to do about any of this,” he said softly.

“Do about this?” Amycus echoed. His voice had an hysteria to it that sounded like a broken parody of a laugh. “Why. Why do you have to do anything?” His wrist where Regulus had gripped felt unnaturally hot and he curled the fingers of his opposite hand around it, catching and holding the heat, whether real or imagined. He was sorry. He felt drugged with guilt and grief and regret. And yet the piece of himself that wanted to flee made war on the pieces that still hung on desperately with brittle fingers to any possible hope. Tell him he's right his better reasoning demanded. Tell him that you never deserved him anyway. Maybe if he grovelled enough, was sincere enough, then there might be something to salvage. And yet . . .

“You don't know. You don't care.” he quoted back bits and pieces of the things Regulus was throwing at him. “You have no idea what to do.

“Then just- don't. It's still me, Reg. And it's still you. And I fucked it up, I know I fucked it up, but it's still us. And I lied, and I used you, but I've stopped. That's all over, I swear it.” The only right thing to do, the good thing, of course would be for Regulus to walk away and never come back. But what what so godsdamned important about doing the right thing when they had been so good together?

Amycus's eyes bored into Regulus, and it felt as though he was seeing him for the first time since this whole debacle of a confrontation had begun. He saw the distress etched into his face, and felt something tighten horribly in his chest. He took an impulsive step forward, going against every single aspect of Regulus's body language that shouted go away, stay away. He could hardly remember a time now when he hadn't wanted to touch Regulus Black, and the urge was nearly insurmountable. He wanted to reach out and wrap himself around this man he knew he loved. He wanted to pet him, run fingers through his hair, hold him. Tears were threatening to blur his vision now and he dashed them violently away. “You're worth it. You are, you are, you're more than.”

He was going to be sick, he could feel it. “I’m manipulative,” he ground out as if he were battling each individual word, “and, and yeah I’m selfish, but we were happy. We were. Can’t we . . . “ but he wasn’t even sure what to ask for and the thought trailed off into nothing. “You’ll be happier without me?” The question emerged like a sigh.

#someone else #au

Happy Birthday, Dear | Regulus and Amycus

Regulus allowed the moment to fall over him, to envelope him. Amycus was so familiar that even the sheer amount of contact between them, which should have made Regulus at least slightly uncomfortable, didn’t deter him at all. He tightened his hold on Amycus waist, pressing their bodies, their chests, together. His other hand shifted to the nape of Amycus’ hair and back, wondering over the side of his face, his temple, the back of his neck.

His hair came out of the ribbon but he didn’t object, humming with some pleasure at the light pressure from Amycus’ hands twining in his hair. They kissed, long and deep, though more sensual than sexual. For Regulus there was something surreal about the whole thing - it was almost like an unspoken conversation: I trust you, I care about you, I want you to stay safe. And, without really making a conscious decision to do so, he poured everything he never quite managed to say into those long, drawn out kisses.

The dull roar of his mind went quiet, clear, and content. Pressed tightly together trading kisses and breath, Amycus felt like he was coming into contact with something both fleeting and important. He wanted to capture this moment and lock it away somewhere safe where he could revisit it as often as he wanted. Often. But as the sweet press of lips and gentle caress of tongues continued even that greedy instinct to take and to keep for himself disappeared into the quiet and Amycus faded entirely into the present. An eddy in the fierce current of war and expectation.

Gliding his fingers through dark hair he crossed his arms behind Regulus's neck, hands resting by the curve of his shoulders. He pulled back, but didn't go far. Pressing his head into the warmth of the other boy's neck, Amycus couldn't be sure if what he heard there was the beat of Regulus's heart of the pounding of his own pulse in his ears.

His lips brushed against skin, laying a row slow kisses from the harsh line of Reg’s jaw til the barrier of his shirt collar where he paused and attempted to refill his slumberous lungs.

#happy birthday dear

“is there someone else?”

“Remember what you’re like?” There was a baffled note in Regulus’ voice that even he did not expect. “You think I ever forgot? It’s hard to forget that you’re destructive and hurtful, that you build up walls and pretend to have no feelings when in fact you’re devoured by them. I never forgot that. But what I never remembered was you being dishonest. Disingenuous, yes. You’d maneuver away from opening up, but you never lied to me before, Amycus. Not…not like this; I never felt betrayed by you.” Regulus laughed, bitterly, shaking his head. “It’s not different. Not really. I wish to Merlin it was but you don’t just stop loving someone.”

Amycus looked liked he was going to explode or perhaps implode. He turned away, muttering, his words giving Regulus pause as he wasn’t completely sure what Amycus was referring to. “What’s…repulsive and pathetic?” he asked, cautiously.

Turning away, Amycus braced himself against Regulus’s words, so true he could think of no defense against the sting of them. Hurting all the more because, in any other circumstances Amycus might have been so happy to be known so well. He had been wrong, so wrong, and what was he to do now? What could he possibly do? It seemed pointless to say he regretted it- he so obviously did. Absurd to admit he wished he had never even met that witch, when it wouldn’t change anything in the now. Unhelpful to plead to take back the truth and hide it away, this time forever. But most of all, it felt impossible for Regulus to forgive him.

He raked his hands harshly back across his scalp, halting at Regulus’s question with elbows splayed in an inverted akimbo. Wasn’t it obvious? “Me.” He said. “I am.” The words were soft, unable to catch breath enough to yell.

He didn’t turn back around, but dropped his hands to cover his face all the same. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

#meme #au #someone else

v-wild

#Aesthetic

Amycus & Tarquin | Enlightenment

Tarquin looked down at his tattoos and pulled a mock look of offence. Granted, nearly every single one of them he’d gotten when he was absolutely plastered, and Amycus knew that, but that certainly didn’t give him permission to make a comment about it. Tarquin wasn’t above pinning his younger friend down and forcing him to get one of those ‘grotty tattoos’ he’d just insulted.

“You’re welcome.” Tarquin muttered sarcastically as Amycus snatched cigarette, but his disgruntled expression switched immediately as he spoke. He laughed, shoving him back gently. “What can I say? I have a fetish for so called men who can’t control their feelings. I thought crawling into your bed was the only way to show you how much I wanted you. Please love me, oh baby, oh baby.” He remarked with very little emotion.

He knew Amycus would understand the joke, but it was funny to mess around every now and again.

When Amycus told Tarquin his reason for basically avoiding him for the last month, Tarquin raised his eyebrows, taking a long drag from his cigarette to try and comprehend why this would bother him so much. While he knew the Carrow twins were very twisted, Amycus’ jealousy and downright obsession with the woman sometimes startled him. Incest, or at least ridiculously close siblings were not uncommon. It was hard to keep blood pure when there was hardly any left that weren’t related.

Pureblood was a dying race, despite how much they didn’t want to believe it. Even Tarquin was in denial, despite the fact that one of his favourite people was a half-blood

“She should get married to me. She’s hot.” Tarquin teased. He didn’t mean it, he couldn’t see Alecto as anything other than his best friends sister. But it was nice to prod at Amycus, especially when he was in a foul mood.

“Did you think she’d be a Carrow forever?” Tarquin questioned. “Even with the independence she has, Pureblood society dictates she marry another Pureblood to carry on the lineage. As you will be expected to get married and carry on the Carrow surname. It’s just what’s expected of us.” - Tarquin knew that that was out of the question for him now. No one wanted to be associated with the surname McTavish. Even if they believed in what his father did, hiding their alliance would be a little more tricky. Tarquin, and his mother, hoped the surname died with him.

“Amy, your infatuation is ruling your logic. Marriage is no abrupt mean to stop… whatever bond you two share. Marriage is simply a pact to birth a Pureblood heir. At the very least you can certainly go behind her partners back.” He shrugged it off, taking another long drag. “And you can always come out and get fucked with me. Pick up a nice woman… or man, whatever you fancy.”

#para:tarquin #enlightenment

“I fucking knew it,” Amycus muttered flatly around his cigarette, pushing back the sheet to diffuse the thickening smoke “Over ten years of friendship and it was all just grooming so you could eventually take advantage of my young, supple body.” He ashed into the pile of stubs fallen from the tipped jar and onto the pillow beside him, not bothering to right the container. Bit of a lost cause at this point anyway he thought. Considering vanishing the mess, Amycus patted absently at the bedding, assuming his wand was somewhere in there but coming up empty.

Tarquin's comment on Alecto caught Amycus mid-inhale, and he spluttered in surprise. Smoke got snorted up into his sinuses. Coughing inelegantly, he threw a glare at his friend until he was able to get his breathing back under control. “Don't even joke about that shit,” he laughed, though it was a bit raspy. “Can you imagine? You and Lects playing house together-” He trailed off, with a shake of his head. Probably one or the both of them would burn the house down before a week was even out. And Carrow-McTavish children? It was an admittedly ridiculous thought, but Amycus glanced away, uncomfortable.

Honestly, Amycus avoided thinking about future generations as much as possible. Talk of a future beyond himself. A time when he would be aging, superfluous- dead? It was all deeply disturbing. Amycus wanted to live forever, and any consideration of one day having children seemed to fill him with the same chill as a death sentence. Of course, on some level, he knew life wasn't indefinite, but maybe, maybe, with all the power the Dark Lord had . . . Another shake of his head and he cut that line of thought.

“Stop being so reasonable.” Amycus said with a distinct pout. “It's off putting, and I haven't been sober long enough to deal with it.” Even claiming to be entirely substance free at the moment was pushing the boundaries of truth. Weeks of indolent self indulgence hadn't left Amycus with much of a clear head. “So you can give me sympathy or you can shut your mouth.” Even so, he felt a small burst of warmth from Tarquin's reaffirmation of their friendship though possibly he hadn't meant it as such when he said they could always get fucked up together. Either way, he appreciated the sentiment. But all this talk of bonds, and picking people up. . . “Is it really so bizarre that I want to keep someone around who likes me best?” The question was mumbled, and he lay a forearm across his eyes, relaxing further back against the bed. Probably it was. Gods, sometimes he felt pathetic.Probably he needed a hangover cure and a shower. Freshening charm at the very least, and maybe he would feel more human.

Happy Birthday, Dear | Regulus and Amycus

But he didn’t hate it. All the feelings that were battling it out in Regulus at that very moment were varied and overwhelming, but none were hatred or even disgust. And then there was something else – that strange half-vulnerability in Amycus’ expression as he practically admitted defeat, and Regulus found his grip tightening on Amycus’ waist, not letting him pull away. They were still nose-to-nose. “I don’t hate it,” Regulus whispered, the words coming as if in delirium, but also slowly and deliberately.

Tentatively, he closed the inch of space between them and briefly caught Amycus’ upper lip in a gentle kiss. His free hand came to rest against Amycus’ cheek and then there was that new wave - of tenderness. And it was both surprising and not, like something that had been lurking there all along without Regulus having realized it.

#para:regulus #happy birthday dear

The hold at his sides tightened, and Amycus's gaze snapped back up, focused intently on Regulus's eyes. I don't hate it he had said, and Amycus couldn't have done anything to hold back the slow closed lip smile that stretched across his face. He hedged and hesitated but now his escape has been halted and there was immense satisfaction in being trapped. Amycus moved with the grasp, locking himself around Regulus in small shifts of his weight. Knees settled on either side of the lap beneath him. As he felt his lip caught, the breath left him in one long quiet sigh, and he pressed into the kiss. Small, gentle, but wanted.

Here they were, on his seventeen birthday, a day that declared Amycus an adult and yet he suddenly didn't feel it. His head seemed to be echoing with words and thoughts like young, and sweet, and most of all boy. Because men were harsh and hard- all teeth and demands, and this was nothing at all like that. It was less, and it was more, and it was good.

He hooked his thumb through the ribbon and pulled it easily from Regulus's hair, letting it fall entirely free now and reveled in the feel of those unbound strands tangled between his fingers. “Not hating. That’s a good start.” He murmured, lips parting and pressing forward once again, the lightest brush of his tongue at Regulus’s lower lip. “I’ll take not hating.”

aherman2006

He simply wasn’t all there. He wasn’t a complete human being at all. He was a tiny bit of one, unnaturally developed; something in a bottle, an organ kept alive in a laboratory. I thought he was a sort of primitive savage, but he was something absolutely modern and up-to-date that only this ghastly age could produce. A tiny bit of a man pretending he was whole.

Evelyn Waugh, Brideshead Revisited (via aherman2006)

hermiunes

#mirror #fc

Amycus & Tarquin | Enlightenment

The light insult Amycus threw his way only made the older man smile brighter – it was childish response to the verbal string of abuse Tarquin constantly gave him, but that’s why Tarquin was so fond of him. It was a dark world, and behind it all, he knew Amycus was just as dark. But in brief moments like this, he was reminded of the snot nosed kid that idolised him at a Pureblood Gala. Despite the age gap, at every gathering, they would somehow spend time together. And thirteen years later, they were still just as close.

“I pride myself on kicking you while you’re down.” Tarquin informed him, “But I went lightly. I could have made a comment about that hair. Honestly, people know I’m associated with you, what if any of them saw you like that? We’d have to kill them, Amycus. I know you’re not opposed to that, but I don’t fancy Azkaban.” – It was a light joke, hiding behind the reality of the truth. Tarquin liked Amycus to tell him everything, but not when it came to that.

It had been clear from an early age that the two of them were fascinated by Death Eaters and the Dark Arts. When Tarquin saw Amycus’ obsession and loyalty grow larger than his own, he decided not to ask him about it anymore, or discuss it unless Amycus himself brought it up. The less he knew, the less concerned he’d be for the safety of his closest friend. He knew Amycus was less than innocent, and he presumed Amycus knew the same. Tarquin had killed, but he daren’t find out if Amycus had. Light-hearted jokes about murdering seemed to push away the reality of it.

“Still think I’ll stay.” His voice still held the tone of mock amusement, but behind it there was a more gentle nature. Only a few people that knew him would see this.

He laughed at the question, turning onto his back so he could reach inside his jean pocket and pull out the packet of cigarettes and his wand. He popped one in his own mouth, and raise his wand, lighting it accordingly. He handed the lit one over to Amycus, and then repeated the process again; careful not the let any flame hit the cover they were hid under. It would be a real damper on his day to be set on fire.

“Oh dear, what’s happened with you and your partner in crime?” He questioned. Tarquin never asked about Amycus and Alecto’s relationship, it wasn’t his place to ask. There were many rumours about the two of them, but Tarquin always turned a deaf ear. What Amycus did in that aspect was entirely none of his business unless situation called for it to be otherwise. “Did she remind you that you were the uglier twin?”

#para:tarquin #enlightenment

Muscles tight from lack of movement, Amycus rolled his shoulders and stretched as best he was able while still remaining sprawled. He rolled his eyes and ran his fingers through the offending hair, its usual softness lost under lack of care. Despite everything he had to admit- it was pretty fucking gross. A tight smile pulled at his mouth, utterly unworried about the distant and near fantastical threat of Azkaban, and he waved a dismissive hand in the air. “You’d be fine.” Amycus declared. “Look, you’ve already got the grotty tattoos for it and all.”

His unwilling smile stretched into something more, pleased with himself and very nearly letting a laugh slip out before he caught and muffled it with a grunt as he stretched again, spine arched and extended.

Instinct had Amycus ready to be lighthearted. To live just in this moment, shallow and dishonest, but the sick churn still sat heavy in his stomach keeping him locked into a bigger picture he tried so hard to shut out. Now. Now was easy. It was when he started analyzing the now and letting the before and the next and the might be’s slip into it that things got dark and difficult. His relationship with Tarquin (old friend. childhood quasi-hero.) sometimes sat ambivalently on the edges of what Amycus wanted to be and what he really was. What he wanted people to think he was.

Amycus accepted the cigarette without thanks, scrubbing harshly at his face and trying to wipe away the dazed sleepy feeling he had been sunk in. “Pfft. Ugly? Look who’s come crawling into whose bed.” Dropping the back on his hand onto Tarquin’s shoulder in a hit without any real leverage. “Prick.

“She thinks she should get married.” He blurted without preamble, determined to get the words out there before he could give into the want of burying it behind insults and nicotine. Pressing fingertips hard against his eyelids, focusing on keeping his tone neutral, Amycus continued, “ And I just can’t stand, I fucking can’t stand, the idea of her changing her name and there not being a single ‘Carrow’ left I don’t hate. And she just- she just drops her decision in my lap like it’s nothing.” That was the worst bit. That she acted like he wasn’t supposed to care. Like he shouldn’t be upset.

“Call this me ‘processing’.”

Protect me from what I want Protège-moi protège-moi

|| @regulusblack-sonandheir ||

Happy Birthday, Dear | Regulus and Amycus

There was something electrifying in that moment, a rush like Regulus had hardly ever felt before - something akin to flying in effect but different in nature. Amycus’ hands in his hair, making strands of it fall out from the ribbon that confined it, the friction against his scalp - sent shivers down his back.

Dear Merlin, what is this?

The lazy comfort of drunk dreaminess was gone - the shock of his Amycus’ lips on his had shocked him, awoken something terribly alive within him. And it was wrong, it had to be, simply by its intensity, but Regulus did not want to let it go, not now when he had just discovered it.

Amycus withdrew just enough for Regulus to be able to open his eyes and find himself staring straight into Amycus’. Their pupils were dilated in the dim light and there was a strange look to Amycus - the familiarity of Regulus’ childhood friend suddenly overtaken by the damn that had just broken.

And through that breach flowed excitement and desire. And fear.

Regulus froze, his breathing hitching nervously. What is this? But he did not say a word, stunned into a terrified silence, overwhelmed by the fear of what this was and of not wanting to lose it.

#para:regulus #happy birthday dear

Amycus kept his fingers where they lay, tangled in loose strands of hair at Regulus's nape, heat suffusing his body. With a curving motion, his second hand came up to draw a line under the edge of the other boy's jaw, dragging gentle fingertips across warm skin and drinking in the closeness both familiar and new. “Do you hate it?” He asked, voice quiet. Regulus had gone so still under his touch, and Amycus couldn't read a thing in his expression, his own eyes dark with obvious want. Tilting his face just so, Amycus pressed his lips experimentally to the corner of that motionless mouth before pulling back and locking their gazes straight on once again. His hand fluttered indecisively, wanting to pull in again for a hot crush of mouths but remaining still.

An uncertain smile tugged at his mouth and he swiped a tongue nervously over his own lips. “Merlin, you hate it.” His laugh was short and soft, just a shade of his disappointment coloring it. Amycus tugged a bit at the hair in his grip in an impish chiding, dropping a kiss on Regulus's nose. “S'alright, Reg. At least I got to try.”

“is there someone else?”

It had always been Amycus’ unspoken vulnerability that had gotten to Regulus, had made it impossible to let go and walk away. He didn’t know if Amycus was playing that card now consciously or not, but Regulus had the overwhelming urge to wrap the other boy up in his arms and say, silly fool, it doesn’t matter what I wanted. I wasn’t ever going to leave you.

But something, maybe pride, had made it impossible for Regulus to voice that sentiment now. “I didn’t want to want you? What does that even mean? I did want you! Until you gave me a damn good reason not to.”

#quicky aesthetic #amys got some parent envy like woah #druella

“Fine, you did.” Those words hit home, and Amycus flinched visibly. “You did, but it’s gone now. Now you know what I’m like. Or, now you remember what I’m like and it’s suddenly all different for you.” He could feel as his own defenses collapsing into guilt, and regret, and overwhelming helplessness.

“Well, I don’t feel less for you than I did yesterday. In fact, I guess I thought I must love you more because I tried this whole fucking shit fuck buggery of being honest. Dim of me.” There was a certain comfort in the smooth stringing of obscenities when everything else seemed to chafe. An itching behind his eyes. God, was he about to cry? Like some pathetic second year witch, he was going to cry? Like hell. He had to leave. Leave or else yell louder and burn out the pressure but his throat felt tight. Painful enough for Regulus too look at him now and find him repulsive, he needn’t add to it. “Repulsive and pathetic.” he growled at himself, turning away.

#meme #au #someone else

🔄

We’re just a little bit lost inside our housesWe’re just a little unkempt, out in the streetsBut I won’t ever pass up a second to tell you replacement’s a myth

🔄

Hey friends, break in the back doorAnd turn it up while the lights are outEyes closed and shouting right now

#casually-furious #quicky aesthetic #pre-drama friendship

murderousfury-blog

The Sound of Silence || The Carrows

murderousfury-blog

Alecto gently tightened her fingers in her brother’s hair, letting it anchor her. “I promise,” her voice was full of conviction, “I won’t leave.” Leaving him was never an option, and she had never had the intention of doing so, even after getting married. Left unsaid was the fact that he was her home, and always would be.

Feeling his arms finally wrap around her made the last vestiges of worry and sorrow fade away, almost as though they had never existed to begin with. She let herself fall into the feeling of being wrapped up in Amycus, lost in him and his touch. Alecto didn’t know how to exist without this feeling in her life anymore.

As she turned her head slightly to look up at him, crimson locks of hair shifted and slid against his cheek and jaw. Alecto smiled at the feeling of it, enjoying the closeness and knowing it was hers forever. “I love you,” she returned, shifting to wrap around him but never breaking the circle of his arms around her. The outside world had a way of disappearing when they were together like this. There was no expectations, no tomorrows, no battles. There was only a twisted heaven.

#para:alecto #the sound of silence #tw:incest

“I’m glad you came.” He told her softly.

Wrapped up in each other, something clicked back into place. Being apart wasn't a matter of hurt or broken hearts with the Carrows, not just those things, but a rending of something fundamental. A dependence that was less a choice and more a necessity. Amycus could feel himself relax, though his grip on his sister only tightened. The world faded out of awareness and all his panic seemed suddenly leagues away. She couldn't leave him, not really, and that familiar certainty now returned to him. Run or fight as they might, Alecto and Amycus were in each others blood and bones. Forever.

Drawing her against him, Amycus stepped back until his legs were flush against the bed. “Come here, little fury. I'll pour you a drink and you can tell me how much you've missed me.”

Cigarettes, Wedding Bands || -OPEN-

casually-furious-blog

Lucinda lifted a strand of her hair and sniffed it. Of course she smelled of stale cigarettes and alcohol. And, okay, so she had had a few drinks, but she was more than sober now. She was well aware of the dangers that accompanied walking home late at night, alone. “I’m sure enough people spilled on me tonight to fill an actual glass, Amy,” she replied, waving off his concern. Holding up her right hand, she looked down at him. “I swear that I am sober enough to operate a wand,” she reassured him, no hint of a slur in her voice. There was just a residual warm fuzzy feeling from the last shot she had taken.

“Want me to walk a straight line and prove it to you?” she asked.

“Anyway, I’m not going to do big magic. I’ll just patch you up until we can get you somewhere that has Essence of Dittany that can handle the job.”