LANCE SPAT AT THE DEATH EATER’S MASK, blinding rage dimming any semblance of self control he harboured. Annette had been Crucio’d. ANNETTE HAD BEEN CRUCIO’D. “Fuck you, wasteman. You’re filth, you’re SCUM. Don’t you dare pretend like any part of this utter bullshit is reasonable. A minor’s being tortured, you fucking twat, so shove your promise up your arse. ”
Her jaw clenched as the spit dripped off her mask at a snails pace and she attempted to remain cool. A minor’s been tortured. That was something that Isadora didn’t know; the knowledge settled in her bones with a deep disturbance. THIS WAS WRONG. But Isadora didn’t make the rules. “Do you WANT your friends to get hurt? Do you want everyone around you to d i e ? Because that’s what will happen, unless we get the information we need.” A minor’s been tortured and a minor was being forced to play her hand. It seemed that life didn’t care about either of them, how pitiful and poetic. Isadora looked at her house mate, suddenly grateful for the mask - it would hide her cowardice. “Just say S O M E T H I N G before your friends get hurt.” but they’re your friends too, Isadora.
