rage and ruin

"AND HER SOUL IS DARK, I THINK, AND SHE KNOWS IT." Isabella Blishwick. Twenty-three. Death Eater. Slytherin Alumna. Hit Witch.

[tiredshouldered]

James had ducked out of the birthday party early once a bunch of Hogwarts students began to pile in. He had sought refuge in Hogsmeade, lingering for awhile as he sipped on some gingerale. The bartender had asked him a few times if he was sure he didn’t want anything stronger – that old temptation was bubbling up in his stomach and his eyes lingered on the tall glass containing a Daisyroot Draught that he had caved and bought. His fingers curled around the glass, flexing before he released it and grabbed the ginger ale. He should contact Nadia. She would likely still be up. Trying to let his focus drift from the war was only letting his mind wander where it shouldn’t. 

Eyes flicking to the individual who walked in, James took a catalog of who she was. Isabella  Blishwick, pureblood, previous Slytherin, had graduated Hogwarts the same year he had. His gaze traveled to her cloak before he flicked it back to stare straight ahead, his tongue sliding across his bottom row of teeth as he looked downward, eyelids heavy. She’d had a smile on her visage, but James had learned more than once that comradeship was not guaranteed by those that he had once attended classes with. In fact, some of them had been tormentors even back then. The Death Eaters could afford to be shameless, priding themselves in their allegiance when the tide was waving in their favor. Moments dragged on into minutes, the pub seeming to mute around him as he zoned out. With a bleary blink, he waved for the bartender to close out his tab, paying him with a tip and sliding off the stool. He closed his fingers around the flaps of his peacoat, drawing it closer to him as he headed out into the alleyway.

[likethcmoon-blog]

As soon as the door closed behind him, Isabella paid for her drink and got off her seat. The knot in her stomach was still there - she pictured James Potter as a teenager in his Gryffindor uniform, walking through the corridors of Hogwarts. While she opened the door once more, all those thoughts vanished; she had learned long ago that there should be no room for memories. Whoever she had met in the past would stay there - Isabella couldn’t afford to care about anyone. Seeing the boy’s silhouette not so far from the pub, she took quiet steps as she walked behind him, counting on her dark cloak and the street’s dim light to keep her discretion.

They were almost out of the alley and into the commercial part of the village, where it was too far for him to run the opposite way; Isabella knew that there wouldn’t be a better opportunity. Taking her wand from her pocket, she turned into dark fog only to reappear in front of the boy a few seconds later, blocking his way out. The cold feeling still hadn’t left her chest. “Hi there, James,” she said softly, cocking her head to the side a little as she offered him an acid smile. Isabella twirled her wand between her fingers, her eyes flicking from the wooden handle to the man in front of her. “I saw a student party going on nearby. Is that what you’re here for?”

[likethcmoon-blog]

Isabella walked through the empty streets of Hogsmeade, her long black cloak protecting her from the cold breeze. It was a simple mission, one that she did all the time; someone was a threat to the Death Eaters, so she was sent off to kill them. At this point, she was no longer the scared child who could barely raise her wand at anyone — that girl had died many years ago when she took a life for the first time, and something much darker had taken her place. In the name of being honest, Isabella still couldn’t tell who she was now. 

Her hand pushed the door delicately and she entered the pub. It was almost empty, except for two people: a skinny, tall boy sitting on a table in the corner who widened his eyes and left through the back door as soon as she walked in, and a dark-haired man with a familiar face that sat by the counter — the one she was there to kill. When she was able to recognize him, a cold feeling spread across her chest; killing people she used to know was something she did often, but even if she wouldn’t admit it, those were the ones that formed knots in her stomach. Isabella took off her cloak and sat one seat away from him. The bartender approached her. “Butterbeer, please?”, she asked with a sweet smile. Glancing at her target, she noticed that he seemed a little distracted. Luckily for him, she wasn’t in a hurry. @tiredshouldered

[likethcmoon-blog]

                              darling dear, what have you done?

                                                      your hands & face

     are smeared with BLOOD

[likethcmoon-blog]

There was nothing about it that she didn’t absolutely hate. 

The dress, the make up, the expensive high heels, the four house elves that had been surrounding her all evening. Even the sight of her mother outside the room, watching as she got ready, was starting to get on her nerves; Isabella had one of the elves shutting the door so no one could see her until she left her bedroom — which she wouldn’t, if there was a choice. When she finally did and walked herself down the stairs to the living room, both her parents were waiting; her father said she had never looked so beautiful, her mother kept telling her what to do and how to behave, and Isabella pretended she was actually listening. 

She thought that it would have become easier to accept by now  — but in that moment, as she stood in front of a famous death-eater only restaurant picked by her family, it seemed to weigh too heavily on her shoulders. Isabella hadn’t quite enjoyed knowing that she would be forced into a marriage with a complete stranger — maybe not complete, considering that she knew exactly who he was. But she had never talked or interacted with him in any way before, and now they were going to get married. 

As soon as she stepped inside the restaurant, his face wasn’t hard to spot. Sitting on a table located at the corner, there he was; Isabella wondered if he had been waiting for too long, and she honestly couldn’t care less. She walked towards him with an expression that didn’t seem really friendly — but again, she didn’t care. When she got to the table, she simply pulled the chair and sat on it, almost like he wasn’t there.  

Isabella looked at the man in front of her with disinterest and crossed her arms over her chest. “What a pleasure it is to meet you”, she said, sarcasm dripping from her voice. 

@dolxhov

[likethcmoon-blog]

                                   BASICS

Full Name: Isabella Blishwick Nickname(s): Izzie and Is (only people close to her can use them). Call her Bella and she’ll loathe you forever. Gender/Pronouns: Cis female | she/her Age: Twenty-three Birthdate: July 1st Parents: Rupert Blishwick & Victoria Elizabeth Blishwick (née Green) Siblings: Michael Cassius Blishwick (11 years old). Birth place: St. Mungo’s Hospital, England Height: 5’4” Weight: 56 kg Sexual/Romantic Orientation: Heteromantic Heterosexual Nationality: English Body Alterations/Marks: The dark mark on her right forearm.

                                     WIZARDRY

Blood Status: Pureblood Wand Arm: Right Wand: 11 inches, willow, dragon heartstring Hogwarts House: Slytherin Pet: Black cat named Midnight.  Special Abilities: None. Patronus: Tiger Boggart: Her family dead or herself locked up in azkaban Mirror of Erised: The mirror shows her family just like it is, but with one difference: none of them have dark marks. 

                                   PERSONALITY

Personality Traits: protective, loyal, bold, quick-witted, indifferent, hesitant, self-serving, ruthless Zodiac Sign: Cancer Moral Alignment: True Neutral  Core values: Family, loyalty, safety  Four temperaments: Choleric  

                                   BIOGRAPHY

Isabella was loved even before she took her first breath — she hadn’t even seen the world yet when her father promised he would give it to her. She wasn’t what they wanted — a boy — but they fell in love with her nonetheless. Being the first child in a traditional pureblood family, Isabella grew up as it was expected; special treatment, early education with mentors and teachers from all over the world and blood purist ideologies being pushed inside her head from a very young age. However, for her parent’s disappointment, Isabella had always suffered from a strong lack of interest in all of it; she never excelled academically and could barely speak any other language except for English.

Isabella dreamed about wild adventures, traveling around the world, discovering new things. She loved quidditch, no matter how many times she was told that it was not for girls to play — she would come running into the house holding her broom, her expensive clothes with holes and dirty with mud. Isabella was much more interested in making things fly and setting books on fire with her father’s wand than drinking tea and wearing pretty dresses. She was nothing like expected; in fact, she was the exact opposite of what a pureblood lady was supposed to be — and even though they were strongly disappointed, her parents never loved her less because of it.

Hogwarts had been her family’s last hope; maybe, just maybe, she would become the polite, delicate, well-behaved girl they wanted her to be so badly. Again, for their disappointment, things only seemed to get worse. Isabella had an astonishing talent for Charms, but instead of using it for academic purposes, she seemed to be extremely fond of pranks, magical tricks and causing trouble in general. Her grades were average, and a good portion of her time was spent in detention; no matter how many screamers were sent her way, Isabella never changed, and although she understood how important it was to her family, she could never bring herself to care about her own or other people’s blood status.  

In between the detentions and turning the Headmistress’s life into hell during her school years, Isabella never paid attention to the war happening around her, or what involvement her family had in it. She had in mind that it had to end at some point and that it would soon — but time went by, she grew up, and it didn’t end. Running away was the easiest way, and Isabella had already planned everything; her parents, however, seemed to have a different objective, one of which they never bothered to tell her about until they thought it was the right time. She was 16 when they told her she was going to join her family in their alliance to the Death Eaters.

The past two generations of Blishwicks had been loyal followers of the Dark Lord, and they expected nothing less from their children. Isabella learned that some of her relatives had rotted in Azkaban many years ago, while others had perished in battle. She didn’t want to be like them, and that was the cause of her night terrors; she had dreams about piles of corpses and pools filled with blood — blood that she had spilled herself. Isabella wanted to run, to leave everything behind and never look back, but if she did, who would take care of her family? She didn’t have a choice. At 17, she graduated and got her Dark Mark.

Being dragged into the war caused more damage than she had imagined it would. It was terrorizing and disturbing; she was just a child when she was forced to look her friends in the eye and kill them. At the same time, there was no other choice; leaving her family behind had never been an option. Isabella became cold and brutal as she learned to obey without giving it a thought, killing without letting herself feel anything about it. She let the darkness in to assure her family‘s and her own safety, but lost herself in the process.