Corsetine Covington RAVENCLAWadmin Sixth Year Pureblood[Av4:4vA] member is offline
Carve your name into my arm, instead of stressed I lay here charmed.
Joined: Jan 2008 Gender: Female Posts: 50 Location: I'm a fairy! Karma: 18
Re: Endgame « Reply #30 on Oct 4, 2009, 8:22pm »
Corsetine clings close to Dante the entire night. Even once they're back in the group with the rest of the remaining students she still doesn't calm down. This doesn't make Dante any safer. Although, statistically speaking, being back in the group has significantly lowered the probably that Dante will suffer serious injury. That is only upon analyzing the numbers of the group, with injuries taken into account Dante's chance of survival is actually quiet impressive in comparison. Maybe being back in the group is a good thing after all.
Granted, it doesn't stay good for long. Some large man in a mask appears and stabs Malcom, then throws Malcom at Llewellyn. Before Corsetine has any time to properly process this, she is being dragged away by Dante. She keeps up with him easily, since she actually does a sport as a past time, but it doesn't stop their sprint from being awkward as she is led by the arm. Corsetine is also filling the void of people looking back. Dante seems to be refusing to, and Corsetine can't imagine it's wise not to keep an eye on who or what is behind you. She supposes that it's good that there is a pair of them, then.
After a furious spring Dante comes to an abrupt stop. Corsetine's arm is yanked the opposite way now, as she makes her abrupt halt slightly late. She looks around, trying to get an idea of what to do now. She ignores Dante's comments about "cutting those bitches up", since at least one of those bitches is Aubrey. Aubrey is not one of Corsetine's primary concerns right now, but part of her knows that she should be more concerned for her friend of six years. Or more concerned about this whole ordeal, really.
"The houses are not a good idea. They could be traps like the main house, if not he knows them better than we do. We should find somewhere to hide that is not one of the houses." Corsetine adds to Dante's original suggestion of hiding their asses.
I guess I just wanted to tell you As the lights start to fade That you are the reason That I am not afraid
Gabriel Grandstone HUFFLEPUFFmod Head of the Dept. of M.A.C., Obliviators Muggle-Born[Av4:4vA] member is offline
I'm sorry, was that your spleen?
Joined: Jan 2008 Gender: Male Posts: 48 Karma: 11
Re: Endgame « Reply #31 on Oct 12, 2009, 6:31pm »
Fucking bitch shot him.
Sure he expected it since she had a gun, but he had also hoped that having a body thrown at her would at least disarm her. He should have moved in and finished her off instead of going for one of the easier kills, that much was his own fault. Luckily her shot was horrible and the slight amount of protection he added to the mask, mostly padding since he was expecting to be hit with blunt objects not small arms fire, did help somewhat. But the bullet still grazed his skull and tore open flesh which all together hurt like hell. He stumbled off then back into the dark behind houses, shrubs, trees and fences. In suburbia there are all manner of places to hide.
Thanks to his own special abilities, healing such a wound is possible. The blood remains, though he did wipe it out of his eye at least. Inspecting the mask showed that the damage wasn't too bad. However the real problem was that he was pissed now and his target had scattered. Placing the mask back on and becoming Michael once more, he began to slowly prowl up the street, staying behind the houses and out of sight. His patience paid off when he heard the swearing of one of the male students. It only took him a few moments to locate the boy, who had what he would guess was his girlfriend with him. Eager to make up for his lost body count, Michael moved up along the side of the house, sticking into the shadows and moving with stealth that was surprising froma man his size. As soon as he came around the corner though he switched to speed, using his long legs to clear the distance quickly.
The teenagers noticed him coming of course, but it was too late. With one arm he slashed his knife out at the boy while with the other he grabbed the girl around the throat. He squeezed but instead of finishing her with that he took aim at a nearby prop car and hurled her at that instead before turning around back to the boy. He wouldn't make the same mistake this time. This time they die.
I'm the fear that keeps you awake I'm the shadows on the wall I'm the monsters they become I'm the nightmare in your skull I'm a dagger in your back An extra turn upon the rack I'm the quivering of your heart A stabbing pain, a sudden start.
Malcom O'Connor GRYFFINDORmod Seventh Year Half-Blood[Av4:4vA] member is offline
Joined: Jan 2008 Gender: Male Posts: 37 Karma: 13
Re: Endgame « Reply #32 on Oct 17, 2009, 11:52am »
Malcom could only concintrate on two things at the moment, one was how much being stabbed through your own body really hurt. It was a lot. Not that he ever thought getting a giant knife shoved into him would ever be a pleasant experience, but it was just not possible to imagine just how much it was going to hurt until you felt it tearing through flesh and organs, ripping you apart and allowing your blood to flow out of you like you were a keg that just got tapped at a frat party.
The second thing occupying his mind was that, despite how absolutely great it would be to pass out right now, he most likely shouldn't do that. Malcom was no doctor, but he was pretty sure that such a massive amount of trama and blood loss followed by the body passing out never led to a very happy ending. So he was doing his level best to not pass out. Which means that the young man was very shocked when he suddenly noticed that he was on the ground behind a house with Llewellyn saying something about leaving him. Figures, he's not too surprised that she'd want to get while the getting was good. And he would only slow her up, better for her to leave him.
"Sure, I'll just sit here and bleed a mite. Long as we don't suddenly get hit by zombies I'll be right as rain. Ahhh fuck." Whincing he placed a hand gently over his wound, trying to apply pressure while at the same time not making the pain worse. He wasn't doing a good job. "I won't be going anywhere I don't think."
Llewellyn keeps an eye out as she props Malcom up. She's primarily using her hips against his to keep him upright against the house. She would set him down, but that would take too long when she needed to get him back up. Especially if they needed to do it in a hurry, which would not be surprising considering the night they're having. If this were any other night, Llewellyn having her hips pinned to Malcom's would usually illicit at least some sort of reaction from him. His body doesn't have the blood to spare for that kind of silliness.
While she debates, it looks like Llewellyn is getting more and more annoyed. Her options are to stay with Malcom and make sure he doesn't die, while hoping that the killer focuses on other people, or to go try to take care of the killer herself and hope that Malcom doesn't die while she's gone. Llewellyn is having trouble debating this. What's better for her? Staying with Malcom seems safer than not going after the killer. She doesn't give a shit about anyone else. And if Malcom lives they'll have two million galleons. But going and taking care of the killer suggests a better chance that either of them will even live to get their million galleons.
"Piss." Llewellyn mutters.
Having to take someone else into consideration really fucks up her plans. If it was just her she would be on the prowl, staying hidden and waiting for the right time to strike. Now she's got Malcom here, and apparently the first appearance of her fucking conscience or some shit. Giving a shit about someone else really is a pain in the goddamn ass. Not that Llewellyn is about ready to admit that she's having emotional dilemmas. This isn't a fucking emotional dilemma, it's a fucking strategic nightmare.
Llewellyn looks up at Malcom now. He's pale, more than usual. He's starting to sweat and his skin feels clammy. She can't leave him if she expects him to be alive when she gets back. She clearly doesn't trust him to hold out more than five minutes unsupervised. Llewellyn brings her hands up and places them over Malcom's wound, slowly applying pressure. Easing in will make it a lot more tolerable.
"I don't trust your dumb ass not to die." Llewellyn says quietly.
![[Search This Thread]](http://s1.images.proboards.com/search2.gif)
![[Send Topic To Friend]](http://s1.images.proboards.com/buttons/sendtopic.gif)
![[Print]](http://s1.images.proboards.com/buttons/print.gif)
Author![[image]](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v48/Agaryulnaer/aparecium/Neu1.jpg)
4vA]![[avatar]](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v48/Agaryulnaer/keira4.jpg)
![[homepage]](http://s1.images.proboards.com/buttons/www_sm.gif)
Logged![[image]](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v48/Agaryulnaer/banner_corsetine1.jpg)
![[image]](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v48/Agaryulnaer/aparecium/DE1.jpg)
4vA]![[avatar]](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v48/Agaryulnaer/aparecium/gabe2.jpg)
![[image]](http://i38.photobucket.com/albums/e150/ihopeyoudance117/gabrielsiggy.jpg)
![[image]](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v48/Agaryulnaer/aparecium/Os1.jpg)
4vA]![[avatar]](http://www.radiotimes.com/shows/csi-ny/cast/eddie-cahill/img.jpg)
![[avatar]](http://i64.photobucket.com/albums/h170/DeviaAtraAnimus/eliza-dushku-maxim-hq-04-1.jpg)
![[image]](http://i64.photobucket.com/albums/h170/DeviaAtraAnimus/llewellyn.jpg)