At night I hear it creeping, at night I feel it move

[batshitscary.livejournal.com]

*The nightowls of Rothbury, population 1694, are the small village's sentinels - evidence of their insomnia detectable only in scattered and steadily dwindling squares of light. It is these furtive and sleepless few who are the first to sense something is amiss, putting it off, in true muggle fashion, to their own neurosis. Yet, the choking sense of dread winding through the streets and slipping coldly through door gaps and windows is no figment of the mind.

Tall hooded figures skirt through the pines surrounding the town, their oblong, concentric march growing tighter and smaller until finally they spill into an open alleyway and fan out, seeming more liquid than army.

It did not take much for the Dark Lord to sway them, although it did take long. A slow coaxing away from their comfortable Ministry agreement with the promise of chaotic and widespread consumption far more tantalizing than the tired and impure souls of criminals. Voldemort has insured their first rebellion will be nothing short of spectacular, the promised banquet unarmed, unseeing and unsuspecting.

Naturally, a small group of Death Eaters flank the rear, giving their ghastly peers a wide, safe berth. They wait for the moment they can follow and make short work of any survivors.*

Comments

[dontbegoofy.livejournal.com]

Don't I always.

*Snape arrives in the bathroom, leaving the heavy metal bird to struggle around on the floor behind him. He doesn't look impressed by the scene - assuming this set-up can only end in naked muggle women, which he certainly isn't in the mood for regardless of whatever Mulciber may claim. Despite this he says nothing, he knows this is no time for dissension.*

[whysosadistic.livejournal.com]

*The tub is filled and only the drip drip drip of the tap and high pitched sniffles are heard.

Charlotte is covered in her sister's blood: it's in her hair, splattered across her face, and smeared across her grey nightgown.*

Tsk, tsk. You're a mess Charlotte. *He nods at the tub.* Get in.

*Charlotte shakes her head and grips the edge of the tub. Quickly losing patience, Mulciber takes hold of a fist-full of her hair with a rough tug until she's standing. She screams and starts sobbing again. She's a sight, with bloodshot eyes and saliva dripping from her lower lip. Slowly, she begins to turn around and lifts her leg, about to enter the tub. With a scoff, Mulciber turns her around with a tug of her arm.*

You idiot. Do you bathe with your clothes on?

*Her eyes grow wide at his implication. "No," she says. "I won't."

"Just do what he says, Charlotte!" snaps the youngest sister.

"No, Maggie, I won't," Charlotte protests firmly.

"Just do it!"

"NO!"*

For fuck's sake.

*Mulciber pulls Charlotte towards him and snatches the thin straps from her shoulders and tugs the gown down her body. She struggles against him until she loses her balance and tumbles into the tub with a great splash. As Charlotte gasps for breath in the ice cold water, Mulciber addresses the other sisters; both are cowering in their respective corners of the bathroom.*

She killed your sister. I believe a punishment is in order, don't you?

[dontbegoofy.livejournal.com]

*Snape hasn't seen many naked women - which here means he hasn't seen any naked women - at least not outside of a photograph. Suffice to say, this isn't how he envisioned his first encounter, with flailing limbs and dull, tousled hair falling around flat, unimpressive breasts. He's not adverse to violence, he's just witnessed a girl's head blown apart by a bullet for god's sake - so why the forced removal of the night gown is so deeply crass and voyeuristic to behold is beyond him. Regardless of reasons, it feels almost like the air has been coated with slime particulates, like he's inhaling the situation, which proceeds to coat his lungs in filth. His wand is pointed at the girls, backing Mulciber's authority, but his eyes are on a tile somewhat above and beyond their heads.*

[whysosadistic.livejournal.com]

"Imperio."

*Without a hitch, the older sister is now under Mulciber's control. Her expression is suddenly passive and the abruptness startles the sisters into silence.

Hold her down, and keep her down. She deserves to be punished.

Charlotte is frozen with fear, "Simone? What are you—"

The older sister—Simone apparently—stands and approaches Charlotte. She stares coldly at her sister, who is naked and shivering with eyes red and puffy from tears. Without preamble, Simone pushes Charlotte's head under the frigid water. Charlotte's limbs are moving left and right, fingers scratching Simone's arms until they bleed, but Simone doesn't bat an eye. Frenzied bubbles rise to the surface of the water as Charlotte thrashes in the tub. Maggie can't stop screaming, and Mulciber grins placidly at the scene, intoxicated by control.

Soon, Charlotte's fingers grow limp and her movements are heavy until she is stock still in the murky red water.*

[dontbegoofy.livejournal.com]

*The gently bobbing corpse is easier to look at, its nakedness suddenly less vulgar, suddenly merely a fact. Snape has no difficulty staring into the tub - the screaming however, is grating on his nerves, in both sense of the word. Mulciber's slow and plodding style of murder taking its slow and plodding toll on his mood.*

[purely-better.livejournal.com]

*A stair creaks loudly downstairs, but it's only Lucius. Having finished off the only other occupant of the house he'd been watching (an old woman who had clung to his robes and begged for help), he'd left its vicinity quickly in search of other Death Eaters, unwilling to be too close to the Dementors alone. It'd been a relief, though he wouldn't say so, when he'd seen distinctly familiar hooded silhouettes through an upstairs window a few streets away. He didn't care who it was. He was joining them.

Doing so is probably somewhat contrary to orders. They're meant to be spread out, he knows, but bravery has never been Lucius's best quality, and he doesn't see how Voldemort could find out that he teamed up with others halfway into the job. Or that it would matter. He took out two Muggles already, alone, it isn't as though he's skiving off.

Telling himself all of this in a well-practiced art of self-justification, he makes his way upstairs, following the screams to the bathroom. Wand only half-raised as though he's not terribly concerned with finding anything dangerous, he leans around the doorway, taking in the scene and raising an eyebrow behind his mask. He vanishes it with a wand flick, his drawl mockingly paternal. For all his feigned laziness, he still looks a little pale, a little shaken. *

Surely you've been told about not playing with your food, boys. Is this all you've managed?

*As though he's finished any more.*