Revelations || Ramsey & Evan || April 10th, 1980
strikes-goyle:
Ramsey watched with wide eyes as Evan seemed to walk off towards the shelves. Ramsey wanted to fucking forget about their mission; leave this place and never return. He casted one last disgusted look to the creature that was staring at him from the ceiling, before taking off down the next aisle beside Rosierâs. Its not like they could go back to Him empty handed.Â
He heeded Evanâs warning and scanned the shelves, looking at the collection of strange cages and objects and things that seemed to call at him quite literally. His mind wandered back to the jewelled coffin heâd seen in the other room. Maybe there was something in here he could knick.
Ramsey pulled his arm out of his robe to use the fabric to carefully pick up what looked like a pure silver letter opener, which he slid it into his pocket. Heâd need to remember not to put his hand into- His eyes grew wide and he launched himself at what looked like a small chest. The warnings rang in his head but he couldnât help himself. What was kept in chests was gold and- He jiggled the lock, using the letter opener (that heâd just told himself not to touch) and it snapped opened. The contents shone bright gold, reflecting on his face.Â
âWell bollocks.â he glanced around out of habit, noting that the creature was following him down the aisle. âNot like yer using it fer nofin,â he smirked to himself and started filling his pockets. His grin grew and his eyes shone with greed. They were rich! Their money problems would be solved. The weight of the pockets jingled and clanked as he stuffed whatever he could inside. Shame he couldnât take it all.Â
The screeching pulled his eyes up and he frowned. He didnât immediately jump to Rosierâs aid however, assuming the man could probably take on whatever it was he was combating. At least for the moment. His thoughts were so absorbed with the heaviness in his pockets that he could only see galleons and a shinny new car. Maybe a new gaff for their growing family. He could go out and buy Charlotte a dress and maybe some jewelry, sheâd like that.Â
The screeching continued and he rolled his eyes. âFookinâ âell,â he scanned the rest of the shelves as he made his way over to the next aisle, noting anything that looked important and making note to take Evan back here.
Ramsey quickened his pace and brightened his wand, filling the aisle with intense light. He could see Evan on the floor, surrounded by three of the ashy green creatures.
âStupify!â He sent the one on top of Evan flying backwards. The creatures screeched away from his light as he ran to Rosierâs side.Â
âYou alright?â He looked down. There didnât seem to be any injuries, but the look on the manâs face made Goyle think that maybe he was hurt and he just couldnât see it. Broken bone perhaps?Â
âYou stand?â he asked, though he reached and grabbed Evanâs arm, simultaneously trying to use the light from his wand to keep the humanoids away.Â
They seemed aggressive but not necessarily hostile. Maybe they just donât like to be bugged.Â
âLooks like you found yerself a pileâo.â he smirked, suppressing a laugh. He couldnât help but feel a bit smug about pretty boy having to get his dainty hands dirty a bit.Â
âFink I found someâin we can use, yahâŠâ he glanced at the creatures that screeched but kept their distance from them. âHe might like it⊠Should clean yerself off mate,â he said bluntly with a laugh, his hand dusting off bugs that were on Evanâs shoulder rather roughly.
âYou good?â He asked again just to be sure, slightly concerned, though heâd never admit it. The look in Evanâs eyes seemed a bit wild and unhinged but the bloke was probably just spooked. âGot you a good scare, ey?â he smirked.
âYou stand?â
He couldnât breathe. He could feel the substance that covered the floor squishing into his clothes, oozing around his collar and down along his back, as if the caked globs on his face and saturating his hair werenât bad enough. It was more because of his state of shock that he allowed the bigger man help him back to his feet and brush him off. His brain still wasnât really processing.
He took a moment to study the mush he stood in, looking for the familiar and comforting length of supple cherry wood. It took a few minutes of convincing before he could actually bend down to retrieve when he did find it because it required him to reach into the mixture of what certainly smelled like mud and excrement. Gripping his wand in a hand that trembled far more than he would ever acknowledge, he finally glanced around the room before focusing on his partner.
Goyleâs commentary was definitely not helping.
A tremor raced down his spine when he shifted faintly and felt the mush heâd fallen into ooze down the small of his back. For a moment the world spun, and he found himself wishing he were the type to pass out because he wasnât sure he could handle anymore. He needed the comfort of his bathroom, scalding hot water, and soap.
In truth he wasnât even thinking about the job anymore. Voldemort could fuck himself for all he cared. The only thing he wanted was to be gone. However,e given that simply disapparating from his current location was impossible, he did his best not to breathe and took a moment to clean himself. It didnât help of course. Sure he looked clean, but Evan knew he wouldnât believe that he was truly clean until heâd scoured his body and burned the clothes he currently wore.
âGot you a good scare, ey?â
The angry scowl that Evan aimed at the other man spoke volumes on his opinion regarding the entire incident. And for more than a heartbeat, malevolent contemplation lit his eyes with a promise that said heâd done it with such frequency that he was almost casual about it. In that moment, he was infinitely more dangerous, because he wanted to chase his imagination, which ended with Goyle hanging from his wrists, his body a bloody battleground of skin rending charms, flame curses that blackened the skin, and the pulsing seizure like symptoms of liberal cruciatus use.
And then he made the mistake of breathing in deep, a unfortunate habit brought on by his desire to smell the fear on air. The way it sweetened the air with the pungent release of pheromones brought on by a pounding heart as adrenaline kicked into gear. It was different with everyone, and that knowledge had a tendency to make him hungrier for it. Today the air was heavy with the smell of urine overlaid with ammonia, excrement, rot, and old water. He gagged and lifted a forearm to his nose, fighting his own gorge. It took several moments before he could managed to speak without gagging, and his eyes were watering with the effort.
âIf you think you found something, collect it. I am done. Assuming there is anything to actually be found in this chaos, it will not be done by me.â He glanced at his pocket watch, and noting the time he added, âOur time is getting short anyway.â Although, truth be told, he would have said anything to get out of that room.
He was so done.












