Inigo York {Draco}
An excessively indignant post
Wed Sep 4, 2013 14:31
24.215.157.233

Inigo couldn’t quite remember when it had happened, or who it had happened to, only the panic that had skittered through the shire, volunteer patrols of grown ups marching up and down the dirt roads that led through the manor houses, and extended towards the edges of Boreas Forest. If he wanted to go outside to play and explore, even only on the grounds of their estate, Yelena would force Niccolò to go with him, and an elf to tail them, trying her best not to infect them with her fear, giving them the illusion of freedom while fretting during the hours they were away. Inigo and his brother would arm themselves with sticks, laughing as they dueled one another, curious about the hushed voices which fell upon them whenever a passing adult saw them at play. For two months they poked and prodded and theorized over what the mystery was all about.

Inigo remembered that he’d been very young, and so had been the boy the aurors had found, his throat ripped out, eyes bulging from his head, blood gushing from multiple wounds, his body mangled, twisted on the forest floor, caught in vines and the protective roots of trees. Inigo had caught a glimpse of the boy’s picture in the Daily Prophet, trying to read over his father’s shoulder. Bloody werewolves, Edward had grunted, turning the page, continuing on to find the details of the upcoming trial. If they had any true decency they’d turn themselves in, have us lock them away, or just hang themselves and save us the trouble. How else are people expected to feel safe? Knight’s Grove calmed down after that, the werewolf finally caught, tried quickly and hung for his crime. Inigo remembered it only as a blurred few months of panic, interspersed with a couple of images that shone brightly in the forefront of his mind, illuminated like the intrusive flash of a camera.

“...not guess I am a werewolf myself.”

Halfway through his DADA notes, Inigo’s control over the gold feathered quill suddenly slipped, a slash of ink that stripped across his meticulous scrawl, his arm accidentally bumping against the bottle of ink, tipping over the edge of the desk and falling with an audible crack onto the floor of the classroom. Inigo watched the ink gush out with an almost dazed expression on his face, a picture of that long forgotten boy flashed across his mind.

“...not to be prejudiced against them. Many of us do not intend to hurt anyone, but just want to live our lives and deal with our little problems.”

The applause of the classroom woke Inigo up, shaking him from whatever trance the memories had launched him into. Slipping from behind his desk, out of his seat, he crouched on the floor, staining his fingertips in ink as he picked up the bottle, ink still gushing through small cracks in the glass. Brushing dark curls out of his face which had fallen across his eyes, strips of black now blemishing his skin, he drew out his wand and pointed it to the small puddle on the floor - “Tergeo” - and then tapped the side of the ink bottle with a nonverbal command, repairing the glass.

While Professor Miles issued out instructions, Inigo cleaned up and rearranged his work space, fussing over miniscule details, chancing glances and averting his gaze over and over again towards the guest haunting their classroom, the werewolf that had dared them to care for her so-called plight. What about her victims? Did their murders deserve to be wiped away from her record, simply because the beast claimed she could not control her own murderous urges? When an animal acted out of control, it got put down. Just because werewolves walked around with human faces, mimicking emotion and personality and smiles, did not mean they had souls, not anymore.

"Want to work with me on this?" Inigo settled back in his seat, narrowed dark eyes flickering from the beast towards Strawberry, a year younger and in Cetus.

“How?” He demanded, his voice grazing the edges of a shout, hastily lowered, indignation humming in his throat. “Why should we waste time trying to protect a werewolf? If a monster is coming at you, you’re going to have to defend yourself! I don’t care about being… politically correct when I’m in actual danger. We need to learn the absolute best spells, the most powerful defensive spells, because in the end it’ll be us or them, and the bloody werewolf isn’t gonna care if we come out all right!”

  • An excessively long postStrawberry Anders, Cetus, Tue Sep 3 21:13
    Strawberry had not really wanted to take Defense, but she hadn't really had much of a choice. She knew her sister's opinion on the professor quite well, and though she'd never had quite so much of an ... more
    • An excessively indignant post — Inigo York {Draco}, Wed Sep 4 14:31
      • Then we both were a bit unnecessaryStrawberry, Wed Sep 11 01:19
        Strawberry tried not to be taken aback by Inigo's reaction. She knew that some people were afraid of werewolves and had a lot of prejudices towards them. She personally had had difficulty with the... more
        • Yeah, but at least we're not alone.Inigo, Fri Sep 20 18:24
          Barely restrained fury, mounting frustration and regret coiled in a tight, iron flame around Inigo's neck, forced down his throat until he unwittingly swallowed, his lungs blistering with too many... more
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