*But she's fallen silent now, broody and still. The subject has brought her back to why they're here in the first place, why they're really here, not just Sirius and that infuriating joke of a Vow, how neatly she'd been outsmarted--but, of course, Andromeda, and the beast she's rutted on, and these, before them, the people who are in some roundabout way responsible. But it's awfully roundabout, not nearly as satisfying as she'd expected, and there's a stony frown behind her mask that would give most people who know her a reasonable amount of pause. The flaying spell is getting sloppier still, skin shucking off the woman in clumsy, ragged sheets that take chunks of flesh with them.
It comes out through gritted teeth, her voice tight.*
No, not yet.
*Dropping to one knee before what's left of the Mudbloods, she lifts her mask free in one swift movement and leans in close, gripping the woman by her punctured cheeks. Her voice is murderous--but somewhere, underneath it, it's ragged, unsteady.*
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-06-22 07:09 pm (UTC)It comes out through gritted teeth, her voice tight.*
No, not yet.
*Dropping to one knee before what's left of the Mudbloods, she lifts her mask free in one swift movement and leans in close, gripping the woman by her punctured cheeks. Her voice is murderous--but somewhere, underneath it, it's ragged, unsteady.*
Look at me.
Look at me.
Do you know who I am?