Bait and Bleed - An AU War RPG

*He smells like bodies and heat and the rich sharpness of the unbathed. Pressing Alice against him, Fenrir's hot breath moistens her hair, her struggling making it difficult for him to find her ear and whisper his reprimand.*

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*Alice almost wretches at the feeling of his hot breath over her neck.

She has to get free. Soon. And get back to her wand.

Alice's arms are pinned to her waist and she struggles harder. She manages to get her right arm which was lodged in the crook of his elbow free and snaps it back to the face. Deftly she finds an eye and starts to push it back while biting into the putrid mass that is his hand.*

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*Sirius is wild, but not stupid, and when nothing moves behind him, he resumes his mad sprint, now behind Fabian, shouting to coach her through it like they all learned in Auror training.*

Alice--talk to us--yell if you can--

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*Fenrir snarls in anger, shifting his head away from the imposing fingers, releasing her if only to grasp at her hair, attempting to violently wrench her free of his face.

At his snarl, the brush around him seems to become more lively, his pack closing in, perfectly concealed yet ever ready to pounce into the front lines. Their growls echo around Fabian and Sirius, implacable and mocking.*

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*Human voices shouldn't make noises like that, and it sends a chill straight through Fabian. He's no coward, though, and he presses on, bramble catching at his clothes and scratching his face and hands.*

ALICE! Scream if you can hear us!

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*Sirius is close enough to hear the snarl, and he slams a stunner into another who is in his way, vaulting over the body as it crumples. Another stunner that seems to go wild, and then he's in the trees and upon them, the hot and snarling circle, and Sirius suddenly feels very small and not terribly potent. He points the wand straight at the filthy mess of man holding her and tries to make himself fierce as he can.*

Let her go and you live.

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*The moment Alice's mouth is free, she is screaming.

She can feel some of her hair tearing out as he grabs her by the hair, and her scream for attention reaches a higher pitch as it becomes a scream of pain.

Alice whirls around, coming face to face with the werewolf. Her heart stops, she's seen his face in the files. This is Greyback.

There is no chance to fully comprehend as the men come, Alice immediately kicks out at his groin while trying to land a punch to his nose.*

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*Fabian staggers to a stop just behind Sirius, whirling around back to back with him, covering him while he covers the man holding Alice. He can't see where the other werewolves are, but he can hear them all around, too close around. Too close, and too many.*

We've got you, Alice, it's gonna be fine -

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*Fenrir blocks her kick, shifting his bulk so that his thigh takes the rather meagre damage. He merely laughs at the two wand tips now trained in his direction, his revealed teeth too numerous, too cramped and too sharp to be wholly natural.*

And here I though manners mattered to you humans. You can't take back such a generous gift.

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*With that, Sirius is completely through with compassion and playing nice. They don't have magic, and he and Fabian do, and that is the end of it.

One of the werewolves is drawing too close, and he flicks off a curse that breaks bones. The wolf howls and crumples on impact, and in an instant his wand is back on Fenrir. There are still many--too many--but the message is clear. Still, Sirius repeats it for the sake of emphasis.*

Don't fucking toy with us. Give her back. Now.

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*Alice keeps staring into Greyback's face. She can't fight now, not when Sirius has used magic as a weapon.

She moves her arms down and behind her, communicating to Fabian and Sirius what the werewolves already know: She has no wand.*

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*Catching the significance of her movement, Fabian curses under his breath and looks around behind them. He keeps his voice to a murmur.*

Accio Alice's wand.

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*He rests his chin on the top of Alice's scalp, both hands on her shoulders. They seem unbearably large, as if he could easily break Alice's collarbone, easily revenge his now injured underling - his injured family.

Instead, he nods.

What could have been a peaceful acceptance of these new terms actually unleashes all Hell. Taking the cue, a boy, no older than seven drops from a low hanging branch, landing neatly on top of Sirius. Far from innocent, he is dutifully armed with a kitchen knife - some stolen trinket from some very unfortunate household. Meanwhile, five more werewolves, a great deal older, reveal themselves from behind, barrelling toward Fabian on all fours. Bounding across undergrowth with practised ease. Somewhere in the havoc, the injured werewolf has disappeared, dragged back and replaced by a still unseen parliament of monsters.*

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*Alice immediately pushes back from Greyback, trying to get free of his overpowering hands. At this proximity it is easier to aim her kicks and she tries again to go for the groin.*

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*It comes out of nowhere. The boy dropping onto Sirius is a distraction, and Fabian doesn't see the five coming at him until it's nearly too late. Alice's wand had just come soaring to his outstretched free hand but he's forced to drop it at once. Adrenalin skyrocketing, he lurches a step backward and lashes out with the first spell that comes to mind, sending a blasting curse straight for the middle of the group charging him.*

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*Fuckfuckfuckfuck walk right into an ambush stupid Sirius fucking stupid.

Sirius goes down but blasts the boy off of him, twenty feet into the air, all mercy completely gone, but not before the knife sinks into his shoulder, near his neck. It's going to bleed but it didn't hit anything vital.

He springs back to his feet and casts another blasting hex after Fabian's. But he's seen what Fabian has tried to do, and most of the work is done already. He snatches Alice's wand out of the air.*

Alice--catch--

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*Alice whips her head around and catches her wand. She's not free of Greyback yet, but her arms are. Her wand snakes up to press to his jugular.*

Call them off.

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*Fenrir only presses closer to her, the wand tip caught in the folds of unshaven skin around his jowls. He sniffs her, a yellowing nail tapping the wood of her wand with interest.*

Disapparate. There's nothing stopping you here.

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*Two hexes and five men is still bad math. Between the two of them they get most of the group, but Fabian still catches a hard, heavy weight to his chest before he can register which one of them is on him, and then he's on his back and everything narrows down to fetid breath and filthy hair in his face. He's still got his wand but he can't get an angle, and struggles on instinct to push his heavier opponent off of him.*

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*By the time Sirius has ensured Alice got her wand, Fabian is down, but it's just one, and Sirius tosses him in the air and off Fabian with levicorpus. He almost wants to laugh at the filthy creature dangling by his ankle, and he would if it weren't so terrifying.*

We just wanted to talk, Greyback. This didn't have to be a fight.

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*The moment is intimate. From far away, they might even look like lovers. Alice looks into his eyes, feeling her skin crawl, and nods.

She pushes away, almost smiling, and steps back. Her wand trails down with the movement, following her arm as she moves to go.

When it reaches the bottom of his neck, she wordlessly she casts a curse and blood oozes from the very base of his neck. She pushes her wand into the wound.*

Talk to us, or I take it all.

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*He scrambles back to his feet, furious but unhurt, and backs toward Sirius again, keeping the rest of the werewolves - still unseen numbers, he's got no idea how many they're up against, here - covered as well as he can.*

Call off your bloody dogs, while you're at it.

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*Alice digs her wand in a little further.*

Do it.

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*Half his pack is down, its youngest member flung violently through the trees, his territory has been invaded and now his own blood has been drawn - all in the name of talking. Fenrir knows a lot about humans and their talk. They talk themselves into wars, into laws, into fear and into their own prisons. They have defined language as the pillars of their society, the height of intelligence, the differentiation between them and what they see as common animals. For this reason alone, Fenrir has never been one for talk - particularly when the terms of this new discourse have never even been stipulated. It feels like an interrogation, but to what end he has no idea. There is nothing to interrogate him about. He's made a point of being open with his activities. There's only one possibility.

He reaches a hand into the many layers of fur and stolen clothing, ripping something off from a string of twine. Opening an enormous hand he reveals several elegant finger bones.*

If you're here for her, it's too late.

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