Chase the Dream

Florence Thomas ----- Hufflepuff ----- Fifth Year ----- Don't Call me Flo

[al-evanmulciber-blog]

;;The Ugly Truth

[florencethomas-blog]

al-evanmulciber:

He’s fairly certain she’s taken some of the bait, as the knife saws into the binds on his hands He can feel it start to loosen, and tries to remain frozen in his madness to place the knife back into his sleeve. Evan can still feel where the knife penetrated his flesh by his own guidance. Mulciber laughs at Florence mockingly. She tried to justify her crazy by arguing their differences.  However that only left an unspoken confirmation to his observation in his deformed mind.

A smirk lifts the corner of his lips as he watches her flinch. He’s content with himself in knowing she still fears him. Just like a dog he can sense the fear as it quickly darts across her green irises. Then her words guide him to a new place altogether. He can vision her as if that hadn’t happened. He can see in his mind his sister walking the halls of Hogwarts with him. He can see his sister running away with him from them. But the falsified moments contribute to his murderous fury. “Shut up. SHUT UP SHUT UP FLESHY” His voice rings out in a coat of anger, the water still dripping down from his face as he coughs. “I’m going to enjoy cutting your tongue out of your mouth.” The chilling words a threat, and the serum making the an eerie promise.

He concluded that Florence hadn’t actually reached his level yet. Because even with the truth serum he paused to think of what he feared. And the truth was, it was hard to muster up three things. His mouth forcefully opens as he speaks the commanded answers. “My parents,  Spousal abandonment, and if I were to ever become a muggle myself. My parents – my father the most.”  His expression in a strange limbo of gloomy and giddy. Then he feels the freedom of his fingers from the bind from behind his back. Keeping the illusion that he is still confound to the chair in front of the ginger girl.

Cold blue eyes fasten on her neck, and the sadistic smile returns as he pictures the blood gushing from her throat and her lifeless body lying in this mostly abandoned school. The student body thought Julia’s murder was cold and heartless, they didn’t know the art of death like he did. The way the mouth could be locked agape gasping for the last bit of air. The way fear blanched the face, and let’s not forget the way the tears stain the cold pale cheeks towards the end.

A lifeless Florence Thomas. That’s what his gift to Hogwarts would be.

She flinched again, his yell coming out a harsh noise against the unused classroom she set up their little meeting.  He threatened her, yet again, and she realized with a bit of surprise that she is no longer pricked with fear at the threats against her life.  Every bit of what he is saying, though she knows he is compelled by the potion to tell the truth, falls exactly into place for her plan.  She was making herself a big enough target that far more of his energy would be wasted on trying to hurt and kill her as opposed to the other mudbloods.  For that she was grateful, and a small smile fell on her face.  

“And I’m going to enjoy being the person that ends you, Mulcy.  One way or another.”  She would make sure that if she were to die, her death would not be overlooked like that of Juila’s.  The world would know what happened to her, and Mulciber’s face would be on the cover of every Prophet until he was put behind bars.  

Florence felt a strange sense of resignation about it all, that they were destined to spar like this, constantly one-upping each other until death or imprisonment separated them both.  The stakes would keep growing but so long as she breathed and he was free to torture others, she would maintain her role in their song and dance.  

“Well, you’re not very original, are you Mulcy?  I mean half the purebloods have daddy issues, don’t they?"  She grabbed hold of her wand.  One more question to go, and then she’d be done with her part.  Another stunning spell to his head, a chance to make sure she was out of the room and safely hidden before he was free and off the potion.  

Evan’s eyes dipped just lower than normal, breaking eye contact and Florence frowned slightly.  He wasn’t looking low enough to be lewd (and she would have been shocked if he had thought of a lowly mudblood that way), but it was disconcerting all the same.  She resisted the urge to shift in her seat, trying to prove her dominance in the situation with every bit of body language she could muster.  

“Well let me say congratulations to you, Mulciber.  I’m very pleased with how cooperative you’ve ended up being, but I have one final question for you, if you don’t mind.  Out of all of the people in the world, name for me the most important to you, currently living.  At least three, but if you somehow have room in your heart for more, you can answer as many as you like.  I won’t force anymore out of you.  Three should be enough, but it’s always good to have a backup plan, don’t you think?”  

Florence sighed, leaning forward in her chair once more.  “I would prefer if you answered rather quickly, however.  I do have quite a bit of work to do.  More schemes to concoct, letters to write... I’m sure your father would love to hear about how his darling boy got himself tied up by a filthy mudblood, wouldn’t he?  Surely that would deserve a nice trip back to Hogwarts to check up on things, don’t you think?  Remind you of a few of his lessons?”  

She hated herself the moment the words came out of her mouth.  To use the equivalent of Evan against himself?  Then again, wasn’t this all about learning how to fight fire with fire?  Florence had to know exactly how frightened of his father Evan was, if that was his worst fear.  Her eyes remained trained on him, prepared to take in his every reaction, down to the detail.  

[florencethomas-blog]

marianne-mckinnon:

Florence, 

I suppose that you are right, why do you always have to be right and make me think twice about being mean to the people I love? it’s a very annoying trait Florence, I hope you know that. I suppose that they might and I guess I do appreciate them at certain times, but while Macey is jumping out of windows to escape and Marlene is being the biggest drama queen I have ever met, it’s hard to appreciate anything from them.

I hope that he does, otherwise the message may have to be received an entirely different way. I suppose it will, he will have a thousand more targets to terrorize. Someone has to stop that psychopath, why have the professors not found out about his behaviour yet? Well… you were both young, and he is an idiot. Still, to this day, an idiot.

I am the worst and yet you put up with me anyway which really says more about you than it says about me, right? A helpful project to help people? I don’t give a crap about anyone else, i am more concerned about you, are you in danger from what you’re doing? Admirable and of course, the younger muggleborns are the most at risk. Fine, as long as you let me in on your helpful project when I am back. Don’t leave me wondering/worrying long.

You’re going to Catermole’s party? Okay fine, I will definitely brave the crowds of stupidly drunk students to meet up with you, do you mind if I bring William? I might be in his company at the time, not sure though. My plans are vague. We can see in the New Year together… are you making a resolution this year?

I love it Florence. I don’t need a journal to remember that my favorite person in the entire world is waiting inside the castle still. I’ll come and visit you as often as I can and on the holidays, don’t start crying. Distance means nothing, remember?

You WILL see me soon!

Marianne,

I’m glad someone around here knows that I’m always right.  Things would go a lot smoother around here if everyone could be as wise as you, my dear best friend.  

As thankful as I am for you to rush to my defense, I’m pretty sure I can handle a little first year, ok?  And, for the record, I can handle the psychopath too.  

You’re right.  I am done putting up with the worst.  We can no longer continue our friendship.  Consider it terminated.  

Just kidding!!!!  I’ll show it to you the moment we are in a safe place back at the castle.  You can help me distribute them, too.  Like I said, completely safe and not putting myself or anyone else in danger, I promise.  

Seriously? Oh Merlin, Marianne, that is brilliant!  I can’t wait to see you!  Of course you can bring William.  I’ve been meaning to talk to him, actually.  Wait, are you bringing him or are you BRINGING HIM bringing him?

Resolutions... erm, not really?  Maybe... to be more sure of myself.  Or to eat healthier maybe?  That would probably help my quidditch game.

I know that... logically.  But as the year is coming to a close it just feels more real.  I don’t know, I’m sappy, sue me.  

See you NEW YEARS!!!!

[al-evanmulciber-blog]

;;The Ugly Truth

[florencethomas-blog]

al-evanmulciber:

There’s something maddening about how he felt a deep rooted pride with Florence. He didn’t need to use the Imperio curse on her, yet look at what she had accomplished. Evan hadn’t seen her coming that’s for sure, but that meant he would have to discipline her. It was his job after all since she had gotten so out of line. But it was strangely pleasant to watch her decline. To know that he had molded this. Is this the sensation his father had felt with him?

The boy’s laughter is interrupted and turns into a fit of gurgles. Until the liquid cyclone finds it further into his lungs. Then he hunches forward and starts to cough. The droplets cover his face and drip down onto his shirt. As he sputters he lets out another raspy laugh at her. “W.water torture how original.” He barely gets the words out between coughs. Harsh coughs that almost seem to stab into his bronchial area. “Oh look at you. So intelligent that creatures need to breathe air.” He sneered vindictively, still trying to regain a normal breathing pattern. Why was he even taunting her? Why press her buttons when he had the upper hand?

Because on the inside he had already started a plan of action. The knife she had forgotten wasn’t easily accessible for reasons possibly like this. The second batch of water cover his flinch when he feels the tip of the blade bite into his own flesh as it slowly glides down his bound arm. Using the liquid of the water he spits it at her purposefully. Catching his breath as it wheezes forth still intertwined in a wayward giggle fit. “Fleshy..Come on do it again.” He challenges her with his murderous grin setting over his features. Mulciber’s face is drenched in the water, and he still feels the tightened ache in his chest when he coughs.

“You have the same hair and the same look in your eye fleshy. Don’t get confused, you’re still just fucking dirt.” He sputters out followed by another couple loud barking coughs. Liz was a loop that Mulciber rather not have gotten into, but he didn’t have any choice as far as Florence was concerned. Meanwhile he can feel the blade and the blood group together against the black sleeve of his shirt. She does something that surprises him. It’s there in his face for a flicker of a minute. What kind of game was Fleshy playing with him?

“You’re not fucking sorry. Don’t bring her up again.” He snaps and his temperament is how it was back at the train. The misplaced jovial grin is the only piece missing. The anger ever present on his face and it has only grown. Evan’s icy orbs watch her closely as she paces in front of him Liz had been a loop in his favor, but it was something that stunned him too. Always.

The laughter starts again when she can’t seem to form sentences. Showing the true mud in the blood of muggles. He nods with the unnerving grin returning once more. All of them gone? Perfect.  All of the muggles, the nonredeemable halfbloods,but she’s missing a piece to the puzzle. Now comes the part where her question becomes complicated. Because she asks t in a way that is branches out to different answers.

The serum is making him more pissed as it coerces the answers fro his lips. As he answers he wiggles in the chair as a sign of restlessness, but also because he’s still trying to flip the blade in his sleeve around to put the handle into his hands. So he can start to saw  the binds on his hands.

“No. The blood lust would not be over. Yes, it’s to get rid of people I deem unacceptable. People that don’t belong here. They don’t get the fucking life she didn’t get.” That’s just it. There were nonredeemable pure bloods he would have gratefully massacred in her little scenario. His family being the top of the list. Which scenario did she mean the killing would continue? Because if she meant all the people he deemed unacceptable of life, then the killing would stop. The serum  takes the question of face value, the muggles, the unworthy half bloods,which still left others. “Yes, it would continue.” He answers simply with a wheeze.

Florence couldn’t help the satisfaction of seeing Evan coughing and sputtering, fighting for his life in  way she hadn’t seen.  Of course knowing about his father made her wonder if he had been on the brink of death before.  No, she couldn’t consider it for too long, she had to keep her wits about her.  Now was not the time for guilt or sympathy.  

He taunted her, telling her to do it again and she grimaces.  Was he actually enjoying this?  Merlin she hoped this didn’t turn into some sick... thing.  He thought her trash which was comforting.  But that grin, that look in his eyes... it would never stop unsettling her, no matter what she tried.  At least if she made herself a big enough problem, maybe she could keep them trained on her.  

Would he even understand that was her real goal?  Not really to get information on him, to be used against him.  She was doing this to paint a bigger target on her own back, to make herself the victim of his schemes instead of Mary, of any of the muggleborn students that roamed the halls.  Sure, there were other pureblood bullies, but none of them had the vicious maddness of Evan Mulciber.  

“I don’t have the same look in my eye, Mulciber, I can promise you that.  Besides that we definitely don’t have the same hair color.  Sure, we’re both ginger but yours is like this weird dark-red.  Mine is proper ginger, thank you very much.”  She sighed, her eyes trained on him as she waited for her answer.  “Leave it to a boy to be that dumb about hair color.”  

He snapped at her and she flinched, an involuntary reaction to hearing the same anger in his voice that she had heard on the train.  For a moment her eyes grew wide with fear but then she tilted her head in confusion.  

“Of course I’m sorry, Evan.  Anytime someone is hurt like that I feel sorry.  I feel sorry she wasn’t able to experience life the way she should have and I’m sorry she’s not here to see you like this because maybe she could have stopped it.”  It was a big leap, but the way he talked about her... maybe if he had had someone there with him he would have maintained a bit more of his sanity.  

Geen eyes watched his face as he thought through his response, her face remaining stoic as he struggled against the binds holding him there.  Perhaps he was struggling to word his answer.  She didn’t know why, she hadn’t done anything more than shoot him with a bit of water.  It wasn’t as if she had threatened to kill him the way that he had threatened her on multiple occasions, she reasoned.  

His answer is dark, but not surprising.  So that was it, then.  Florence clenched her jaw in grim determination.  The only thing that would stop him was killing him.  Florence nodded, taking her seat once more.  Fine then, the rest of this interrogation would be easy.  

“Name the three things that terrify you the most.  And if you would -- well you have to, don’t you? -- specify what you are most scared of out of those three.” 

[florencethomas-blog]

marianne-mckinnon:

Florence,

Whether I should or I shouldn’t, I still do, and I also feel sorry for myself that I am here and not there because my family are driving me insane. What wouldn’t I approve of though, I feel as though that might be a pretty short list?

Aw, how adorable! Florence has an admirer! Try not to break his heart now, let the poor boy down gently. They’re sensitive at that age, or so I hear. I don’t think either of those things will be letting him down gently, but I wouldn’t know because I have never had to let a guy down before. Maybe just distance yourself gradually from him or find him another girl to obsess over?

Pet project? Do I get to know what this pet protect is or is it even a secret from your best friend? Well, I am glad he is steering clear of you and you are of him. I hate that he hurt me and you won’t let me punch the little twat in the face. You know that not too many people could get me to restrain my temper. Pureblood elite nonsense, I hear there are a few gatherings over the Christmas holidays… maybe I should crash one and trash everything? Uh, maybe not, I don’t think I will ever be drunk enough.

Merlin Florence, this ornament is so beautiful and the journal, with the badgers and my name on it, thank you so much! I was almost finished with my old one, thank you for sending that too by the way, so I will definitely be using my new one before Christmas break is over.

Marianne,

Even if they drive you crazy, they are family.  I’m sure after a while things might... mellow out?   It might take a few years but they always say you appreciate family, right?  

Yeah, I feel like if I just avoid him like the plague for a few weeks, he might get the message?  It will be easier when all the rest of the students are at school again.  More girls for him to get distracted with.  We can always hope, right?  The only experience I’ve had was with Amos, and we all know how that turned into a pile of poop.  

Ugh, Marianne, you are literally the worst, you know that?  I’m not keeping it a secret from my best friend ok?  It’s a helpful project to help people, and no one is in any danger from what I’m doing, ok?  Mulciber is a monster and he will get what’s coming to him regardless of if we’re the ones to do it.  In the mean time we have to make sure the rest of the muggleborns are safe, especially the younger ones.  I’ve got a few things that I’ll show you when we’re both back at the castle.

Oh, I heard rumor Catermole is hosting a new years party!  You should sneak away from your family and we can meet up there!  I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather spend the holidays with than you, my best friend.  

I’m glad you like the journal.  I was in Flourish and Blotts for hours picking out the right one.  But as you get ready to graduate and leave I just... I wanted you to remember you’ve got a little badger friend waiting to join you is all.  oh Merlin, I better wrap this up before I start crying all over this dumb letter!  

Hope to see you soon!

[florencethomas-blog]

mcrymac:

Florence, 

That was certainly the part that was hard. I just hadn’t been expecting it, and it had been a bad week. Thank you for being understanding though, and I’m glad we can move past it. Please do, my home is warm and we have the best cookies. We have a nice big guest room as well, with an en-suite bath. It’s yours for however long you’d like it, whenever you need. Just send me an owl so I can make sure everything is in order for you.

That sounds…interesting, Florence. I would like to hear more, but you’re probably right, it’s best not to put any of that in writing. Please just be careful, alright? Planning is good, but Evan is in himself an unusual variable. Not unpredictable, but..also not typical. 

The Christmas Market sounds quite lovely indeed, its sounds similar to Diagon Alley. Thank you so much for the ornament and the sweets, I’ve already eaten a few of these. I’m going to be so huge by time I come back to school, but worth it, right? 

Thank you for sending the map. It’s very thorough, you must have spent a lot of time on this. The blue line seems familiar, certainly, I’ve taken these paths many times. What is the red line? Florence, be careful. 

I mean it,

Mary,

No no, I get it.  Though these days every week feels like a bad week for things like that...

You’re really sweet, you know that?  If all of this horribleness has a bright side, then we have at least been brought together.  I sense a friendship that shall last the ages, Macdonald.  Mark my words!  

I promise, I’m being careful.  I know how unpredictable he is, but he also fails to realize he isn’t the only one who can be unpredictable.  He might have a better idea of that now, though.  I will explain more if I come.  Are you sure it’s not too much trouble for you and your family?  

It’s a bit like Diagon Alley, yeah, but it’s a bit more festive!  And all the stalls are out on the street.  I don’t know where Dumbledore or Hogsmede or whoever found all these people, but their stalls were really adorable.  Put me right in the Christmas mood!  And it’s always worth it for sweets.  The Hogwarts cloaks are very forgiving anyway.  

The blue line there are paths safe for muggleborn students to take.  They go in largely trafficked areas or right by professors usual positions.  As far as I can tell, the blue paths can take you to any of the rooms you’d need to go to, a bit more out of the way in some cases but to be safe from pureblood torment it’s worth it, you know?  

Super careful,

[al-evanmulciber-blog]

;;The Ugly Truth

[florencethomas-blog]

al-evanmulciber:

The maddening cackle bounces off the walls of the room. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news Flesh, but you’re already at my level.” He can feel the cramp coming in on his side, causing him to wiggle in the chair. “Imaginative?” He barks breathlessly practically wheezing the words out from the laughing fit that overcomes him. “This is quite the textbook interrogation. If you think this is imaginative, I would hate to see what feeble imagination you truly have. Makes sense though.” Mudbloods and their simple minds after all. Evan had finally stopped laughing for the most part. The tears cascading down from his eyelids, mainly from the laughter and likely distraction she gave him without meaning too.

She gave him the look like Alice had, like Dorcas had, a look that maybe she might understand. The only true person besides himself to see how gruesome the Mulcibers were, was Greer. But he would never admit who his allies were. Though with the serum clearing out his normal deception made secrets impossible. This was all a test. One that was frankly already testing his patience, but the serum had made that anger and twisted it into indifference.

Florence could learn all she wanted, but after this he would put his hands around her neck and wring it. The memories that intertwine with his far off thoughts all come to a jerked stop when he sees her wand adjusted at his crotch. “Tsk, tsk. No need to be a blimey tease Fleshy. Are you going to be innovative now? “ There’s a sadistic curl at the corner of his lips, taunting her to lash out at him. To become part of what he is.  Then the question she asks makes him freeze.

Forcing his eyelids shut he takes in a deep breath. He can see her face because her body was heavier than his. The body of a brain dead girl stuck atop of him with her eyes frozen in a morose state, but the forced grin on her lips was quite the horrific sight. Opening his eyes again he clears his throat and forces the answer from his lip. “Elizabeth was my older sister. You see, Fleshy. There’s filthy flesh like you that walk these halls, but she couldn’t. They took that from her. They hurt her to the point she couldn’t do anything but stare.  In a wheel chair, tube in her throat. They took everything from her because she got used to the pain and stopped screaming. “ Mulciber’s sense of grief flickers in the back of his mind, and he can see her again. This time her hand is reaching up from the soil beckoning him closer, her childish voice whispering beside him.

Florence’s eyes narrow, her face growing hard with Evan’s cackle.  She refused to believe she was on his level.  If she was, she would have slit his throat when she got him alone, would have gut him like a prize to be won and left him to be found by some pureblood outside his common room.  The image of his blood dripping down from his neck, seeping into the fabric of his clothes in deep crimson swam in front of her eyes before she is brought back to reality, glaring at Evan.  

“You want a typical interrogation? Fine.  Auguamenti.”  She flicked her wand so the jet of water that burst forth was aimed for his face, not his crotch.  She watched, eyes narrowed as the water pounded his face, waiting until she could see him sputtering before flicking her wand away, ending the spell.  She waited until his coughing lessened, speaking over whatever protests he might try and make.  “Been reading up on torture methods.  Apparently breathing tends to be something rather important to muggles as well as wizards.  Even the pureblood pricks.”  She cocked her head to the side, an innocent smile on her face.  

“I don’t think we are as alike as you claim.  Which, to be honest is surprising coming from you.  Comparing yourself to a filthy mudblood like me?  Suddenly claiming we’re on the same level?  Come now, Mulciber, that doesn’t sound like the talk of supremacy you’re usually spouting off.  Speaking of spouting, Aguamenti.”  Another jet of water, this time just a few seconds longer than the last, Florence’s eyes trained on him, watching him as she held his life in her hands.  There was something satisfying about using something so mundane, a spell learned in the first few years of school, and turning it against the boy who insisted on cutting with knives.  

She listened as he described Liz, the satisfied expression from the water torture falling as he spoke.  An older sibling separated from him too soon.  Though the methods were different, torture instead of a broken foster system, they had both been separated from their respective siblings...

Florence shook her head.  What was she doing?  What did she hope to gain by blasting Mulciber with jets of water, with sitting here with him tied to a chair while she peppered him with questions?  Her eyes glanced at her watch.  Roughly fourty more minutes before she needed to stun him again and untie him, let him wake after the potion had worn off.  But she still wasn’t sure... she had to be sure before she came after him with the intention of death.  

“I know you won’t care, but I’m sorry about your sister.  I wish she could have walked these halls.  With me.  With you.”  Florence sighed, pushing her chair back as she moved to stand, to pace.  A hand involuntary rose to her mouth, teeth beginning to bite fingernails as she was deep in thought.  She wanted to word her next question right.  

“Do you think... would you ever...”  She looked at him, a thoughtful frown on her face.  “Ok.  Let me ask it this way.  Imagine all of the mudbloods in the world are dead.  Poof, you got us all.  You’ve got a pile of dead bodies of all of us unworthy folk in your basement.  Muggles, too, just gone.  We’ll even take out all the unworthy half-bloods, if you like.  The world is rid of the scourge of filth or whatever you want to call it.”  She turned back to him, looking at him earnestly.  This was perhaps the most important question yet.  

“Would your blood lust be over?  Honestly, do you think?  Is all of this just to get rid of the people you deem unacceptable?  Or -- now search deep within your cold little heart, Mulcy, this is important -- would the killing continue?”  

[kristensnotebook]

[florencethomas-blog]

Do you see yourself killing Mulciber?

I… don’t know… I don’t know that I could see myself killing anyone, but now… 

I think our story will end in someone’s death, that’s for sure.  I’m not sure who will kill who.  

[florencethomas-blog]

Have you forgiven Emma?

Of course.  She did as she said and gave me money for a new broom... one a bit better than my old one, actually.  Though I’m sure money is no object for someone like her, I really can’t blame her for getting manipulated by Mulciber.  

[florencethomas-blog]

Has no one taught you not to poke a sleeping bear?

No... though I have been taught to fight my own battles, to finish what I’ve started, and to stand up for people when I can, so same thing, right?  

[marianne-mckinnon]

[ @florencethomas ]

Florence,

I’m so sorry that I couldn’t stay at Hogwarts with you over Christmas break. I tried to pull the studying for NEWTs card, but it didn’t go down well with my parents and apparently it upset my Maw that I didn’t want to celebrate this joyous occasion with her. Paw had been slipping me a couple galleons each day if I watch my temper and act as though I want to spend time around my family, wearing ridiculous Christmas jumpers and trying hard not to yank my sister’s hair. 

How are you? How is everything there? Pandora told me that Dumbledore turned the Black lake into an Ice Skating Rink, is that true? Also she had dragged Xenophilius down onto the ice a lot and I am afraid she might impale him with her skate blade. Is it bad that I am actually not that afraid and more amused by the thought? 

How has your Christmas been so far? You haven’t bumped into that Slytherin asshole have you? Have you checked out the Christmas Market? I know this is an odd favour to ask, but could you go into my dorm and check to see if I left my journal in my bedside dresser? I could have sworn I brought it home with me but I can’t find it anywhere.

I have attached your Christmas present to the owl’s leg. It arrived this morning, finally!

Love, 

( attached the leg of the owl is a small velvet pouch with a draw string closer. Inside the pouch is a charm bracelet, decorated with silver charms )

[florencethomas-blog]

Marianne,

You shouldn’t feel sorry at all!  I’m used to keeping myself busy so as not to get in trouble.  Promise I’m not up to anything you wouldn’t approve of.  It’s fine though.  You should be spending time with your family at the holidays.  I really don’t mind.  

Things are pretty charming here.  I’ve been on the rink a few times, even taught a little first year how to skate!  He might have a crush on me now though... whoops.  Don’t know how to let the little guy down and tell him he’s not really my type... or age range...

I’ve avoided Mulciber for most of the break.  I’m working on a little pet project of mine that has kept me busy, and from what I have seen of him he’s been in and out of the castle.  Pureblood elite nonsense, I suppose.  I went to the market and picked up a few things, including the attached ornament.  Also I did find your journal, it’s enclosed along with the rest of your Christmas.  I was PLANNING on giving it to you when you got back, but since you sent along mine I figured I’d return the favor.  

Love, 

( attached is Marianne’s journal along with a handmade ornament from the Christmas Market.  A wrapped package is also included, a leather-bound journal is inside, with a picture of two badgers on the front, enchanted to move and play with each other.  Marianne’s name is on the binding, in gold script )

[florencethomas-blog]

mcrymac:

Florence,

Oh, Florence. I’m sorry I made you feel that way. I truly wasn’t in the best place last we spoke. I’m much better now that I’m home. My granddad is here, and my parents, and it’s comforting. Home has always been a safe place for me, I’m very blessed in that. I’m not sure what I’d do without it. Marlene will be coming over soon, and I’m sure Lily will come visit sometime too. If you wanted to get away from the castle for awhile, our door is always open to you as well. 

Well thank you! I enjoy being a bit crafty at times. I’m glad you liked the bookmark. 

A calculated incident? On your own terms? Forgive me, but I must ask you to expand on that. What do you mean on your own terms? Messing with Mulciber is never on your own terms. 

I will accept this as an I O U because you’ve requested, but truly you needn’t give me a gift in return, it was truly just a small thing. I would be completely happy just hearing all about the Christmas Markets in Hogsmeade. Please enjoy yourself, it sounds beautiful already. 

A help to other muggleborns? Of course I’d like to see.

Be careful, Florence, please.

Mary,

No no, you did nothing at all!  Honestly, I sprung up on you without really talking to you about something so serious.  I assumed it was my own fault, not you.  That sounds… really nice.  I’m glad you have a safe place to retreat to, if but for a moment.  I appreciate your concern, and I might take you up on it if things get bad.  That’s really sweet of you.  

Don’t worry, everything was fine.  I planned it myself for weeks before making sure there were no variables out of place… well except for one knife… but I managed to get out without much personal sacrifice.  I just… I needed to know how much humanity was left in him, why he is the way he is.  I don’t know if I should be writing about what I did but I will tell you in person if you really want to know.  

The Market was lovely!  Everything all decorated for Christmas, a feeling of excitement and light in the air!  It was beautiful.  The little shops were charming.  I felt as if I were in some storybook all about Christmas, like one of the partygoers in A Christmas Carol or something like that.  I bought you this little handmade ornament, a star to help you look on the brighter side of things.  I also bought some Christmas candy that I’ve mostly eaten.  It would be great if you would take these that I’ve sent you off my hands.  

I’ve been working on a map of sorts to distribute to the muggleborn students.  The blue pathways list the safest areas, the ones closest to professors offices or largely trafficked areas.  Less likely places to become a target.  Just… look it over and let me know what you think?  You can ignore the red line for now.  I’ve been working on charms to copy them to help distribute them.  Let me know what you think!  

Always Careful,

( attached is the handmade ornament, an assortment of sweets, and a copy of a hand-drawn school map.  There are blue lines and other hand-drawn symbols on the map )

[al-evanmulciber-blog]

;;The Ugly Truth

[florencethomas-blog]

al-evanmulciber:

Sure Mulciber is drugged but he hears her voice and looks at her with a confused look. “Trying to decide what, Fleshy? Which tool to use first? Go on.” Evan uses his chin and upnods to one of the blades in the mix of the others. It’s then as he’s looking over the table he silently counts them. She missed one. She fucking missed one. However his head is still spinning and his strength isn’t restored to overpower her to escape at this minute.

So onward his brain goes to the grave memory lane covered in thorns and death. He lets out a loud breath of relief, relaxing into his interrogation. Seemingly. In his head he’s trying to remember where the missing blade is on his person if she enters a line of questioning he doesn’t want to be privy to. However the potion also calms him in a sense he doesn’t feel the rush to evacuate the room. The impulse is dulled but the anger of her actions is collecting in a mass that awaits for his freedom.

Florence asks a magical question that causes his youthful spirit to stir with discomfort. Did his father make him scream? His lips pull apart as he narrows his blue eyes at her. “Yes, countless times. If I didn’t scream I would end up like Liz.” He explains automatically. As if he were giving her instructions on how to make a pancake. It doesn’t take long enough for his eyes to gloss over at the mention of Liz. When his eyes lift once more they are consumed in a mist of concentrated spite.

The followup question turns the corner of his lips into a wary smirk. “It’s fun.” The answer is simple. It’s fun to hurt people. It’s fun to make people beg. It’s fun to watch the horror that flickers in their eyes. It’s fun to provoke the chaotic nature of revenge – and she was there to attune to it. At least how the madness in his mind wove everything. Her last question caused his head to tilt as he seems to contemplate the truth of it. There’s the answer no doubt she wants, and then there’s the truth.

“Everything Fleshy. The blood, the screams, the cries, the begging. Watching weak mudbloods shrivel in front of me. It’s extremely exhilarating. My favorite part is when their eyes gloss up with tears and I can see a hint of my reflection in them.” This is exactly the person Mulciber was conditioned to be.

Florence’s face grew hard, her eyes narrowing at the other ginger.  “No, Mulciber, I was trying to decide what question to ask you next.  I would never stoop to your primal levels of torture.  I prefer to think of myself as much more imaginative.”  In truth, she’d been dreaming lately of different torture methods, different ways that she could fight fire with blazing fire.  At this point she barely cared if she got burnt in the process.  

She frowned again, a twinge of sympathy leaking out of her at his description.  His father had tortured him.  But he mentioned a name and she opened her mouth to question him again.  She stopped as his eyes glazed over, imagining what he might be thinking of, what sort of memories were swimming in front of him.  She almost ended it right there, the answer seemingly found in a sea of what if possibilities.  He was a monster made of damaged goods.  Could she really have the gall to kill him, to rid the world of him if he was touched with madness from childhood?

But then he continued, the picture he painted both enthralling and horrifying.  She grimaced, her voice coming out in a superior scoff.  “How poetic of you, Evan.  Truly, I’m moved.”  She shook her head, adjusting so her wand was pointed at his crotch.  She considered sending another stinging jinx, a reminder of their time on the train, but waits.  Only when he became too rowdy would he deserve a spell.  She was sane, she was the good one, the one on the side of history.  She didn’t need to change, he did.  Marianne said so the other night.  

“Who is... was... Liz?” 

[mcrymac]

Florence, ( @florencethomas ) 

Happy Christmas, Florence. I hope it’s alright that I write you. I heard you were staying at Hogwarts for holiday, and I wanted to make sure you were alright. Evan told me he was staying as well. Please, please, be careful. Try to enjoy your holiday as well, you should check out the Christmas Market in Hogsmeade and tell me all about it. If you want, of course. 

I’ve sent you a little gift, I hope that you’ll enjoy it. It’s..kind of a joke, but it’s also quite interesting, I promise. Just trying to make things a bit lighter. I’m sorry I’ve been so down lately.

With love,

( attached is a small brown bag of chocolates, and a book / The Art of War / with a bookmark that Mary designed herself ) 

[florencethomas-blog]

Mary,

I was so pleased and surprised to get your letter!  I thought... well I thought after our last chat you might not want much to do with me but this is brilliant.  Your gift was perfect, just the wort of thing I need to be reading (hahaha) and your bookmark is positively charming!  You could probably sell these and make a few sickles on the side!  

I’m doing fine.  I’ve only had one very calculated incident with the dungeon troll but have managed to steer clear of him since.  Don’t worry, it was all on my terms, I promise.  I got out before things got too... pointy... anyway, I was planning on going to the Christmas market today, so I’ll let you know how it goes!  Until I can get you the perfect gift, please accept this letter as an “I O U”.  

Oh, I’ve been working on a pet project at the castle, and would love your input if you’d want to give it.  Don’t worry, nothing to put anyone at risk.  More of a... well a help to the rest of the mudbl muggleborns who want to avoid confrontation I guess.  Wanna take a look at it?  

[al-evanmulciber-blog]

;;The Ugly Truth

[florencethomas-blog]

al-evanmulciber:

Evan’s eyes flicker to the vial in her hand, he could feel something strange pumping through his veins. He felt stranger and not himself, but he still managed to give her a wry grin. “Sure, Flo. But when I get out of here..I’m going to enjoy prying the flesh off your face.” His voice calm which made it more unsettling. Because it’s the truth – his truth on the matter. That’s when the question tickled his ears and made his gaze cast downward. Trying to wiggle out his hand from the restraints or at least one fucking finger to flip her off. Fucking Flo.

But his mouth? It spoke without his wanting it to. “It.came from my father.” As he spoke the words he could see the glint of the knife as it stabbed down into his abdomen. With each word came a different cut, and he remembers why he has Helen. “He was very talented with making people scream with it.” The boy’s voice droned on while he squirmed to get out of this predicament. But he’s unable to escape, his hollow blue orbs narrow at Florence. In the back of his mind his memories still roll around giving no fuck that it wasn’t a time to venture into memory lane. It’s what the potion is doing to him.

He can hear the high pitched shrieks from his own lips when the knife sinks down and squishes loudly. The blood that pours from the wound over that fucking switchblade. While he’s quiet for a moment he reflects what it would be like to simply glide Helen across Florence’s neck. A satisfied smile crosses his lips while his fingers drum against the chair.  His mind still swirled with a state of grogginess, but he would be damned if he didn’t make it out of this room and beat Fleshy Flo until she was flesh strips. He calmly adds onto his previous statements, “It’s all about the reflection in the blade. There’s a poetic truth to it when you hold it to a person. And when it cuts into them the sound they make..is a present of nostalgia.”

Dear old daddy Mulciber got it. But could this fucking mudblood get it? They were daft as fuck after all.

Florence watched as his mind struggled against the pull of the potion.  She brushed off his insults, though the chilling reminder that he is compelled to only speak the truth makes his threat ring louder than it would have.  Now is not the time for fear.  He may come after her soon, but for tonight she has the upper hand.  She watched him try to wriggle a hand free and sends a stinging jinx his way, giving him a look.  "Come on, Mulciber.  Cooperation not Intimidation.  I'm trying to decide -" I'm trying to decide if killing you is the only way to stop you.  "-- Well never mind that, just answer my questions and there won't be any issue.  We will both walk away from here and you can come after me to your little heart's content."  She would prefer it, actually.  If he was preoccupied with coming after her, then he couldn't go after any of the others.  

She watched him carefully as he spoke, his eyes moving from murderous glare at her to someplace far away.  A memory from the past, swimming before him as he spoke.  His father.  So there was an element of nurturing the creature that had taken up residence inside the boy before her.  His father... had he committed the same atrocities Evan was so eager to perform on his fellow students.  

Despite herself, Florence felt a pang of sympathy for him. No one became a monster on their own, not really.  It was always a reaction to whatever happened to them that shaped you into who you were.  Like Florence, who had been dealt a crap hand in life, he was merely the sum of the parts of events and things that made him who he was.  Of course, like Florence, he could have had the personal strength to become better, not worse from the trials in his life.  That was what separated the monsters from the heroes.  

She listened to him talk of the reflection in the blade, a sort of stirring within her in spite of herself.  The way he spoke about it - about stabbing another human being, she must remind herself - moved something within her.  There was a reverence in his voice, a beauty that she connects with.  He spoke of it with a similar fondness that Florence would use to describe the feeling of flying, turning just before the corners to feel your stomach left behind somewhere behind you.  The knowledge that if you had waited half a second more, you would be a bruised lump on the side of the pitch.  A danger you had complete control over.  Something that you manipulated, that you didn't let life move for you.  She took a deep breath, shifting to rest her head on her hand, her brows knitting into an expression of deep thought.  

"Did your father make you scream?"  It almost hurts her to ask, and she wonders if she wants to hear the answer.  Perhaps she can appeal to whatever reason might still exist within the mind corroded by madness.  "Why would you put someone else through that?  What about it excites you?"

[florencethomas-blog]

vcnityemma:

Emma walked, listening to Florence’s attempts to make her feel guilty. She loathed to admit that in some ways, it worked. Emma preferred not to be involved in the violence when it could be helped, but her temper rivaled her housemates. She shook her head, “You’re reaching, Florence. Evan would never hurt me, if that’s what you’re implying.” She fully believed it too, Evan would never harm a hair on her head, or any other pureblood, so long as they remained loyal. Slytherin was a house that fostered solidarity, and fraternity. There was a reason that was where Evan belonged and it wasn’t because he was ‘evil.’ Just like Florence apparently didn’t wind up in Hufflepuff because she was overly kind. People, she rationalized, were both. “Plus, I’ve told you what Evan has said. He didn’t feel you didn’t do anything.” She added, but the venom in such words was lost on her tone, as if she wasn’t quite certain herself.

She frowned at the mention of the third year. The girl who was now dead. “And you think Evan killed her? Don’t be ridiculous. I’m sorry that she’s gone, I’m sorry she didn’t have a chance to be a beater, but that’s not Evan’s fault, it’s sure as hell not my fault, and I don’t see what that has to do with you, my necklace, or Evan.” She answered. The truth was that she was in fact sorry, she was appalled that a little girl would wind up dead, but she didn’t need to know anything beyond that. She didn’t want to know that she loved Quidditch too, even though she was tiny and would likely make a horrible beater. She didn’t want to know anything about her.

“Stop. Stop pretending like you know a damn thing about my, Florence. You have no idea what I think. I don’t give a shit what your blood status is, I literally just want my necklace back.” She insisted. She was getting really tired of Florence claiming to know who Emma was and what she thought. “Fine. Go on.” She nodded, agreeing to that. 

Florence entered the common room and went straight to her room, Emma's words spinning in her mind.  Perhaps she was a lost cause, so stuck in her bloody pureblood ways that she would never hear reason.  Florence had thought Emma better than that, and was disappointed.  She thought perhaps Emma was one of the good ones, like Emmeline maybe, someone who was able to thing rationally enough to befriend those who didn't come from the same background.  Perhaps it had been foolish for Florence to think someone could come out of that toxic upbringing and survive.  

Florence found her dress and fished around in the folds of the tattered fabric.  There it was, on the opposite side from where Evan had stabbed her with the glass.  She cursed herself, wondering when the brute had managed to plant it on her.  Probably as he had swung at her head or tried to slit her throat.  She would never be sure.  Sighing, she turned and walked back to Emma, who was waiting right where she left her.  

As Emma looked up, Florence tossed her the dress,  blood-stained fabric and tears in the cloth evidence of the struggle.  There was a huge stain on the sleeve, darkest where there was a tear of the glass being shoved into her flesh.  More blood spattered the front, there from when she'd been hit in the nose.  Some of the blood was probably Evan's, Florence realized with a jolt.  As she reached Emma, she held out her hand, the necklace resting in the palm of her hand.  

"I told you all of that about Julia and about the fear that Evan inspired in me because I want you to see the scope of all this, Emma.  I have no idea what happened to Julia.  No one does except her and whoever killed her.  I have no idea if it was Evan or not, but what I saw in him in that train compartment... It wasn't something that could easily be restricted, not once it's been let loose."  Florence nodded towards the necklace.  

"This is life and death for someone like me, Emma.  I've got much bigger things to worry about than groping someone who wants to kill people like me or stealing a necklace."  She lowered her hand once Emma took her necklace back, nodding to the dress.  

"I'll take that back, I just wanted you to see the results of my train ride.  You were right about one thing, I have no idea what you think and I won't pretend to.  Think whatever you want about me, Emma.  I'm starting to realize that's what people are going to do anyway.  But you'll have to excuse me."  Her eyes turned sad, almost broken as her shoulders fell just a little bit more.  She didn't have any more energy.  "I need to go talk to Sprout about a br--- nevermind.”  It would do no good to bring up what had started this whole mess now.  Better to just leave things as they were and let Emma come to her own conclusions.  

[florencethomas-blog]

mcrymac:

Mary gave a curt nod. Even just talking about the little bit that she had brought back memories she would have rather not thought about. She had nothing against Florence, other than a friendly Quidditch rivalry, but she loathed her for a brief moment for encouraging her to speak about it. It wasn’t fair, of course, to be frustrated with the Hufflepuff, but she had been. Maybe it was the lack of sleep talking, but the pills should have taken care of that. She wasn’t normally irritable once she’d swallowed them down. Maybe it was just that things had happened recently–Evan playing his mind games, and Regulus tormenting her for bumping in to him. 

She felt her stomach drop, her eyes turning to look at Florence. Oh no. No, no. Evan had hurt her too. On the train. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides, though she didn’t know what she’d do with them. Her jaw clenched. It felt as though the earth had cracked open beneath her feet. Her chest tightened, her breathing coming out less calm and more haggard. “He–you..on the..” She stammered, unable to make her thoughts connect to her tongue in an understandable way. ,

Her eyes brimmed with tears. She wouldn’t apologize to Florence for what happened to her, or pity her, as she knew how that felt, but she did soften considerably. “Florence..you have to leave him be. If you poke him, he’ll lash out twice as badly as anything he did to you before. I’m angry too, but you have to be careful with him. He doesn’t understand rationality. He’s grown more and more reckless and–and I don’t want you to end up like–” She caught herself, eyes turning toward the ground. 

Florence turned her eyes back to Mary as she stammered a response, her own face softening as she reached forward to grab the other girl's hand.  They were no longer alone, no longer isolated.  That was Evan's main tactic, to isolate and make his victims feel alone, like they couldn't tell anyone what had happened.  And for a while Florence had believed it, but she refused to end up like Julia.  She refused to let anyone else die this year at Hogwarts.  

"Mary, if I leave him be he'll move on to someone else.  How many other muggleborns do you think he's hurt?  We might never know..."  She looked out at the lake, her mind almost audibly whirring as she sorted through the loose plans she had been mulling over ever since her conversation with Marianne.  "He's a monster, but there's got to be some part of him that's still a man, right?  He can't be completely mad.  Maybe... maybe if we find the part of him that's still human, we can keep him from hurting everyone else.  And if we can't..."  If they couldn't bring out the humanity in Evan Mulciber, then he needed to be taken care of, for the sake of all of them.  She smiled weakly at Mary.  

"If I target him, if I keep... I don't know, challenging him... maybe he'll leave some of the others alone."  She hadn't spoken her thoughts out loud before.  She didn't want Marianne to know what she had been thinking, was sure Marianne would try and stop her.  Emmeline would probably break apart how illogical she was being, but as Mary had said, Evan didn't deal in rational thought.  Logic was folly when it came to him.  

But Mary... she understood what it was like being on the receiving end of things.  And Florence felt she was strong enough to withstand his worst.  Florence had already resisted depression from being isolated by fate from the only family she'd ever known.  She could handle this.  She could handle him.