Psikhushka: убежищем Northern Ridge, Eastern European Plain, Russia
Cradled high in the glacial hills of the Northern Ridge in Russia; it divides the river basins of the Northern Dvina River (north) and the Volga River (south). The chain is located roughly in the west-east direction, between the source of the Kostroma River and the sources of the Vychegda River and the Kama River. The Northern Ridge is approximately 200 km long. Roughly, the chain is limited from the north by the valleys of the Sukhona and the Vychegda, and from the south by the course of the Volga in the west and by the course of the Kama in the east. The landscape of the Northern Ridge originates from the Ice Age and has the glacial nature. The hills were polished by the glacier and currently achieve the height of 293 metres (961 ft) (in Babushkinsky District, Vologda Oblast). The rivers flow in deep ravines.The principal rivers which have their source in the Northern Ridge are the Yug, the Luza, the Unzha, the Sysola, and the Moloma.
The psychiatric hospital was once a base of operations for the magical division of the KGB. However, a cursed fire engulfed the structure and burned hundreds alive. It was closed down and left in ruins for years until the need for a magical psychiatric ward revived the building. It's isolated location and deadly terrain made it the ideal location. It currently houses witches and wizards all across Eastern Europe, though residents of Western Europe aren't an uncommon sight.
Remington lost himself in his patience. Snowflakes began to fall slowly at first, just one by one. The cold winds were rising and the flurry brought a white gust across the mountainside. Beside him, the pair of studs were gently bundled in dark gray wools. The burly white horse with the thicker coat of hair was left with bare hooves, the younger black stud kept his shoes, but they were covered by snow pads and studs. His horse gave an impatient whicker, the other chimed in whinny and Remington hushed them each with an apple. His every motion was slow and weighed down. The enchanted armor dug into the thick doublet, woolen surcoat and studded, leather vest. A pair of black robes trimmed in furs hung around his shoulders and billowed around his booted feet. He wore no sigil, no crest or emblem. It was so very unlike him. But I have no choice, he knew it true.
This had better work—On Circe's bald cun— his thoughts derailed. A low horn signaled his nephew's arrival. One of the horses bobbed its head, its bare hoof stomped against the ground. In the distance, the main watchtower spiralled over the mountain range. Several more were posted that surrounded the hospital. Nobody was allowed up or down the range without express permission and acknowledgment of the gvardeytsy, the Russian guardsmen. He had Krina to thank for them.
A distant figure loomed under the shadow of the watchtower. The fiendish ghoul doubled, tripled in size as the sun began to set behind and its black shadow clawed against the powder snow. In those silent moments where Remy couldn't decide if Tay was about to attack, something in the air changed. He could feel it, could feel the emotion pressing intensely in these mountains.
And somewhere, unbeknownst to either Nott, eyes followed their every motion. Only the best of the best lay in wait, hunched in the brushes and shrubbery, others high in the cliffs crawling on their bellies to stare at them down below. One such spy had cast the anti-apparation ward across the terrain.
”Did you make it through?”
”You could have warned me it was Russians,” the younger man growled. His black robes were tied tightly beneath his neck, digging into the apple of his throat. The cloak shrouded him. Remington couldn't guess if there was something lethal hiding behind those black folds.
”You seemed to have done well enough in the Ruze Manor.” He didn't wait for a reaction. He turned his back on him. If he means to kill me, he would've done so already, Remington had to remind himself as he seized the reigns of the robust stud and cleared the saddle of snow, set a foot in the spur and launched himself on to the beast. Even the leather beneath him felt cold. ”Come, these Russians have precautions and they'll be wary of our lingering presence. Like or no, we must oblige.”
”Fine,” his nephew declared stiffly. Obviously, there was distrust between them. But the harsh climate and rugged terrain offered little hope to a man's courage. Tay flew effortlessly into his saddle, all the years of riding hadn't been lost on him yet. ”Tell me uncle, and tell me true.” There seemed to be a deliberate pause, but Remington didn't acknowledge the stare burning into the back of his head. ”What happened to her?”
Remington felt tense. He spurned his horse to a slow trot and Tay followed beside. Something sick, something grotesque was morphing into his belly and clawing, and clawing and clawing. The pain was visible. ”She...She...” He could feel those gold eyes smelting his flesh. ”She was a spy,” he said at last. ”Our family has held a piece of something ancient.. something... cursed. She'd been bought by the Kamenev's, and I—“
”—you almost meant to marry me to one!”
”Yes, to forge an alliance, to remind them that they'll stand to lose as much as we do. Their betrayal was many, many years ago. William had never known, not until it was too late. I had known for some time, of course, my dear brother would have never believed me... So I fought her at her own game. She tried to kill me, to kill you, your father, all of us. She would've seen the world burn to get her hands on our secret.”
”Why... What secret?” Tay had asked very slowly, and only after Remington had made no show of continuing.
”She meant to use it for herself. I don't think she ever meant to help the Kamenev's. One deep, she was always one deep....
“The curse, the power, it's... dangerous. If the ministry had any notion of it, they'd steal it for themselves and call it a terrorism against magic. Or they'd destroy every source of it. We only hold a part of its secret; it was divided for its own safety. The Kamenev's had once been the sole proprietor but had since then lost its knowledge. They seek to reclaim it, burn all other evidence, and use it. I had hoped in your marriage to Nadya that terms of peace could be drawn...”And then we could all direct our attention to the real bloody problem, the Aldred's.
”...How, then, did she wind up here?” The railroad tracks appeared out of nowhere when a gust of wind shed the fresh blanket of snow from the iron teeth. Remington had to steer his stud clear of its wooden snatches or else the beast might suffer a broken leg. Closer and closer, the barred windows and bleached walls of the hospital sped closer.
”Your father sent her here, of course. You know the man, too honorable to s**t. He couldn't kill her, so he locked her up here and hoped she might take herself. He never wanted you to know, he wanted to protect you.”
Remington could only hope his nephew would believe him.
╔══════════════╗ 40 years old ♛ 6’3” ♛ 172lbs Home ♛ Office ♛ Island ╚══════════════╝
Noomy
EssyzeNinja! sent in a secret plot request! Utsuha Moon accepts!
About Tay and crazies. Date sent in: January 29th, 2014
Posted: Wed May 07, 2014 11:35 am
𝖂illiam 𝕯ante 𝕹otttheThird
𝕺cclumens, 𝕾lytherin 𝕬lumni
The building was crude. The old and the new were severed against one another like a grotesque hybrid. Half of the structure was a ruddy gray, melted like wax and misshapen from the fire and the bleached white concrete blocks of the reconstruction were melded together with something that almost looked like tar. It was hastily done, and cheap, too. Tay had to wonder how this structure could contain so much magic without its walls collapsing in. The snow had concealed much of its hideous face from afar. Up close, his frothy breath thickened as he slid off the back of his black stud, his uncle hopped down from the white and a pair of men silently led the horses down a separate path which wound behind the hospital. As he watched the horses go, his uncle's voice drifted up from behind. ”This way.” Tay didn't linger long.
The stark white lights inside were blinding, burning like the sun. His fingers tore through the beams to shadow his eyes as he found his footing on the steps. The walls were white, the tile floors, baseboards and ceilings, all white. Even the nurses and assistants garbed themselves in faded white cloth, almost gray in comparison. And they, in all black, were the only shadows that existed. His uncle began to speak, but Tay didn't understand a word of it. He'd caught a few wisps, a word or two that felt familiar to his ears but couldn't pretend to translate. Soon enough, a short, stout ghoul of a man with a heavy brow and small, beady eyes extended a heavy hand. He didn't understand at first. Remington produced his wand.
”Our wands aren't permitted past this point, you understand.” His uncle relinquished his wand, now it was his turn. The stout man took a step forward, hand still outstretched and waiting. You've come too far to turn back now, he forced his hand.
But then they were on their way. The corridors were narrow and the ceiling rose high, steel doors with thick iron bolts and a small slide away hatch guarded the patients inside. Hundreds of doors, all alike, sprawled down a thousand hallways. They weaved left, and then right; they must have veered around several more corners that he'd lost track of until they'd finally stopped. The guard fumbled with his keys.
”Guiseley?” Just hearing her name after so many years sent a knife through his heart. He couldn't see her yet, he had to shuffle past his uncle to take a step inside of the room to finally see her.
”—“ he didn't know what to say, what to call her after all of these years. Her hair was blonde, but not like he'd seen in all the pictures. It was dull, lackluster, and tangled, it was much longer than he'd ever seen. A skeletal rim shadowed under her soft chocolatey eyes, glazed and glossy. A white, thin dress hung off her bones and she sat on the edge of a small cot, it's frame a thin wire metal that barely looked capable of even holding her weight. The bed thin as parchment. She was hollow; there was emptiness in her eyes.
”She's.... sedated. It's safest this way for her, and the workers.”
”.....” Breath caught in his throat, he couldn't. He couldn't. Years and years were wasted, searching for her, wondering why! But everyone had known! Everyone! ”Tell me everything.”
”If you say,” his uncle sighed. ”The curse is ancient, a lost art. It's almost like the imperius curse, you can control wizards with it. It's a brand, really, a mark, a scar, a tattoo. Once you've branded a wizard, they're yours... but there's stipulations. When you, in a way, activate it, you'll be leaving yourself defenseless. It's very, very dangerous. If one should die while they're in that state, it's speculated they'll suffer the same fate as the undying, the final death.
“And it's complicated, it's a series of spells, potions. It's near impossible, it's a rarity. It'd been a secret among purebloods, not of our time, but hundreds of years ago. The Kamenevs were once Russian spies, though I speculate they still are. They stole it.
“It was in Hogwarts, with Alexander and Henry that we'd learned of its history. We struck a deal, but it was a ploy, we stole it back while they were distracted. They were fools. Only one copy. I thought there would have been more, I.. . I was sure there was more. But when I'd realized who Guiseley had been working for, it was too late—at the time, she went to school with William and never much seemed to notice him. Not that he'd notice her either—always following Flint—but after the heist she'd gained a sudden interest in my brother—I knew we were ******** Kamenev's have been trying to get it back ever since. Burke, Rich and I divided the information, and hid it safely. We've taken delicate measures, but there have been... complications along the way.”
”That.... That doesn't explain why she's here, why you faked her death.”
”She manipulated your father, she blackmailed me, she used you against us. She meant to kill us all, and take the curse and castle for herself. She has no loyalty.” Remington's voice rose higher with every syllable until he almost screamed. Then his voice cut like a still frozen winter. ”...My honorable brother would never believe me I had to make him see for himself, I had to... I had to show him... He almost killed her, y'know. We had to fake her death, we didn't know if she'd even live. That, besides, we didn't know what we'd do with her... Your grandfather, he—“
BANG! A bright flash of white and blue blasted, smoke sizzled and filled the room. SLAM! Thud. A hard force hit the wall and crashed into the floor. Du-du-du-du-du! Heavy footsteps echoed in from every direction, louder and louder. Tay was knocked off his feet, vision blurred, all he could hear was vibrations from the explosion.
Smoke curdled black, the billowing plume consumed the white room. He choked, coughed until he suffocated. The vision flooded from his eyes and his senses crippled. A distinct crack, shatter, and whoosh, echoed. He couldn't find up from down. His robes tangled him and the cold floor was hard beneath him. His ears rang, the drums felt punctured and the voom-voom weaved in and out of his consciousness. He writhed; fingers drug across the broken shards of glass but the smoke began to clear and he could almost breathe again.
What—? His thoughts couldn't focus; the smoke built up to tar clogging his brain. Obscure voices collided, so intense, it punctured him. He rose shakily, vision blurred and the floor kept moving.
”—it was supposed to be the spider,” a voice whispered.
”—should I—“ but the second voice was cut off.
”No—! No...” they paused, Tay was stumbling, scrambling into a wall and slowly rising. ”Hold back the Russians, do not let them on this floor.”
”But, Guiseley, that's not what you—“
”Harry them back, sir, now.” Footsteps echoed, but Tay couldn't see. The smoke had all but dwindled to soot and ash on the walls. Bare, cracked feet padded up to his vision and the white dress skirted around her ankles as rhe fabric ruffled around her knees. The shadows danced over his face. Cold hands helped him to his feet, and he rose to tower over her sinewy frame. He saw something in her eyes he'd never seen before, something that shined. His jaw slackened, she looked like ice. A blackness curled in the corner of the room, Remington's furs smoldered.
”You—“ he paused and she put a finger to her lips, hushed him into silence. Her eyes were wrinkled, the shadows stretched across her sullen cheeks and hollow eyes.
”You have to leave,” she tried to explain; this was so much larger than he knew. ”Now.”
”No! No, you killed my uncle— you—“
”Ha, would I could, but—“
”No—!” He couldn't understand.
”Listen to me, child! I have loved you, I have always loved you. Everything I have done since the day you were born has been for you.” Sporadic, she was shaking, her sanity fleeting. ”Take the wands, take them both, and leave Remington he's done nothing but lie to you.”
He didn't know where she'd found them, how she'd gotten them, but his wand was thrust into his hands and he suddenly felt the fire spark inside. ”No,” he repeated again, this time, armed. He raised his wand, the mahogany tip jutted into her depraved cheekbones. ”You're going to tell me, everything.”
She raised her hands, the scars marred the palms of flesh with black and gray lacerations. ”You'll die here, you have to—“ he dug in deeper. The men stationed beyond the thick doorway began to thunder down the hallway. ”It's true, I was bought by the Kamenev's and I spied on your father, but he used you against me. I reported to them, and I had to report to him, and I had to lie to everyone to keep you safe. I had to survive, I could not let them take you. I tried to escape; I did. He wanted the castle, he wanted the titles, he wanted to rule.” The tears flooded her eyes. ”Please, run while you can.”
But he couldn't move; he couldn't. She must have known because she'd stolen a glance at the broken window, Remington, and then snatched Tay's wand out of his hand and struck it to her temple. He almost thought she meant to kill herself. ”What are you—?!” But the slow, silvery wisp extracted from her temple. A ghost of memories unfurled in heavenly vines. He fumbled clumsily, fingers digging around in his robes for a bottle and unstopped the cork with his teeth, it was a calming drought but he siphoned it clean with his uncle's wand.
”I know this won't fix what I've done to you, but,” she struggled to find the words as she guided his wand. Her coiled fingers traced the Latin phrase ‘deficit omne quod nasciture', and it broke his heart to remember it's meaning. everything that is born passes away.. Then the vial filled to the brim with an essence of glowing mist and he hurried to cork it close. She still hadn't spoken hadn't moved... He could only watch in horror as her eyes darkened and dimmed and his wand clattered to the floor. The red seeped through her dress, dribbled down her nose and out the corner of her mouth.
”Augh—“ breath stolen, heartstring blackened. She slumped down to her knees and hit the floor with a thud. The red viscous pooled around his feet. Tay dropped to his knees, scooped up his mother in his arms to watch the last fleeting light escape her amber eyes.
”—She—she was going to kill you.” Remington stammered, even as his eye struck the golden light cupped in his nephews hands. ”She—She was lying.” Remington staggered against the wall, his armor suffered a thick crack across the breastplate.
”остановить их!” Both men whipped their necks around. Tay didn't understand, but Remington did. The color flooded his uncles face until the pale alabaster flesh mirrored the snow outside.
”Ignus flagellum,“ he whispered, seized his wand from the floor and slashed. The stampede stormed, the vibrations raced across the tile floors. Fire cracked and ignited in a whip hacking from shoulder to waist, erupting in a scream and then a crash as the bed snapped in half burst up in flame. The door burst, reinforced steel ricocheting off its hinges and colliding hard against the floor and bodied poured through the door.. ”Lusro circulus! Incendio! Anguis ignus!” Fire, fire, fire. Red, and gold and orange and blue and it roared and snapped and exploded and men screamed as the walls smoldered until embers licked at the oxygen greedily until the structure melted. He didn't wait. He closed his fist around the vial and turned on his heel. His boot thrust against the windowsill and pushed hard launching through and tumbled down three stories into a thick blanket of gray snow. Spells were firing all around him, in English and Russian. Spells shot at him and melted the flurry and made it easier for him to struggle and escape. He vanished but the explosions deafened his ears. The fresh snow that had fallen not but half an hour ago were crunched down and sodden red. He ran.
