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Aug. 15th, 2013 04:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
serpent_tonguedIt was mere chance that had led them here. A lovely young smooth snake had told him of a small colony of moke in the area and he was rather keen on capturing a few, himself. Once they'd neared the town it was clear this was not just any other sleepy village in the Northern reaches of the country.
Or perhaps it was, which was even more disturbing truthfully.
The large open square in the center of the town was taken up, primarily, by the beginnings of a massive bonfire. It was the sort of thing that, at first glance, brought to mind Beltane though that would not be for many months still. Tall torches stood around it and the promise of a celebration or festival had Godric rushing ahead, as usual. Salazar was more reserved, though. Reservation that quickly became wariness as he took in the quiet, empty streets, the almost eerie silence where there should have been talking and music and the general din of many people.
There was fear in the air and anger.
There was only one voice that carried over that terrifying silence, a man dressed in the clothing that the whole country had come to associate with Christian priests over the last generations. He was angry, telling the assembled villagers just how dangerous it could be to house a witch in their midst. He cited events that had apparently gone on for some time now in this village, slaughtered livestock, inexplicable fires, any number of this that could be cause by mere neglect or circumstance. Godric had stopped on the outer edges of the gathered townsfolk and Salazar was soon only a step behind him, one hand gripping firmly to his friend's shoulder.
A young woman, bound, bruised, frightened out of her wits, was brought to stand beside the man on the dias. He knew what was going to happen and he felt sick with it. The woman, barely more than a girl, she was screaming and sobbing. Trying to tell them that she'd done nothing wrong, that she only made teas. She was no witch, she had no power, just a skill with herbs. He couldn't watch it and, worse, they could not stop it. Not here, not like this, not with so many innocent people that would be in harm's way. They could overpower a few of them physically but if they used magic these people would get hurt. If they even managed to subdue everyone without being disarmed first.
And what good would it do? It would only reaffirm the fear these people had. Fear instilled in them by a man in a long dark robe. Fear of a god their grandfathers had never known. Grey eyes flicked away as the woman was bound in the center of the pyre, for that was what it was, more kindling being placed around her feet. His gaze caught on a woman across the expanse of the crowd, no... two women. Two women just like them. One dark, one light. One furious and one afraid. Two women that stood apart from the townsfolk, just slightly, just enough.
True witches... and just as helpless as them, though it was only a whisper into Godric's ear that stopped the man from rushing blindly ahead and either getting himself burned just as the woman was going to be... or doing far worse to these people gathered here. The warm glow of fire illuminated them as sobs and pleas became screams of terror. He held the gaze of the darker of the two across the square, reached into her mind to draw out the thought of safety, to see the glassy surface of a deep lake, of the surrounding forest, sweeping hills and isolation. It was beautiful. It was safe. Untouched by people like these.
He blinked, the connection broken and he knew they would understand. This was no place for people like them, amidst the herds of impressionable, weak willed muggles. She nodded, almost imperceptible, tugging the hand of her companion as they slipped from the crowd into the shadows. His hand pulled harder on Godric's shoulder, nearly pulling his friend back against his chest as he too stepped back. "Salazar we can help." Angry, indignant... no longer the spoiled little boy he'd met those years ago.
"What would you have us do? Saving one girl will not sway the hearts of this town or country, you fool." Hissed in his ear as they stepped around a corner. "I know somewhere nearby... somewhere safe." And with only that warning they were gone, apparating to a grassy hillside, beside a crystalline lake, where two women stood out against dark landscape, blue flames illuminating their faces.
"Dammit, Salazar." Godric snapped beside him, leaning on his arm a bit more heavily due to the, admittedly, short warning. It was only a matter of moments to close the distance between the two groups, those dancing flames coming with them, brighter than even the moon overhead but casting the group in the same kind of ethereal illumination.
"Salazar is it? I would appreciate it if you left my thoughts alone next time." The dark haired woman was disapproving but there was a tremor in the words that belied the bravado, even as she nodded to the men. "Rowena Ravenclaw." The redhead at her side offered the hand not holding those flames to the men and, ever the important one, Godric trampled her attempt to introduce herself next.
"Hel-"
"Godric Gryffindor." Her knuckles were kissed and he seemed oblivious to her annoyance. Nothing new there.
"Helga Hufflepuff." Salazar shook her hand once Godric was quite finished slobbering on her. Just a handshake, firm and respectful. He would leave the romanticism to Godric.
"Salazar Slytherin." A nod in Rowena's direction as she had not offered her own hand. There was a moment of silence, the four of them looking between each other, each more shell shocked than the last, the screams of an innocent and likely muggle woman echoing in their ears and somehow this moment felt bigger than it was. Less like running away from what they could not change and more like forging a new path towards that change. And finally, after the silence had stretched long enough to border on the edge of uncomfortable he spoke again, voice hushed.
"Well met."
Or perhaps it was, which was even more disturbing truthfully.
The large open square in the center of the town was taken up, primarily, by the beginnings of a massive bonfire. It was the sort of thing that, at first glance, brought to mind Beltane though that would not be for many months still. Tall torches stood around it and the promise of a celebration or festival had Godric rushing ahead, as usual. Salazar was more reserved, though. Reservation that quickly became wariness as he took in the quiet, empty streets, the almost eerie silence where there should have been talking and music and the general din of many people.
There was fear in the air and anger.
There was only one voice that carried over that terrifying silence, a man dressed in the clothing that the whole country had come to associate with Christian priests over the last generations. He was angry, telling the assembled villagers just how dangerous it could be to house a witch in their midst. He cited events that had apparently gone on for some time now in this village, slaughtered livestock, inexplicable fires, any number of this that could be cause by mere neglect or circumstance. Godric had stopped on the outer edges of the gathered townsfolk and Salazar was soon only a step behind him, one hand gripping firmly to his friend's shoulder.
A young woman, bound, bruised, frightened out of her wits, was brought to stand beside the man on the dias. He knew what was going to happen and he felt sick with it. The woman, barely more than a girl, she was screaming and sobbing. Trying to tell them that she'd done nothing wrong, that she only made teas. She was no witch, she had no power, just a skill with herbs. He couldn't watch it and, worse, they could not stop it. Not here, not like this, not with so many innocent people that would be in harm's way. They could overpower a few of them physically but if they used magic these people would get hurt. If they even managed to subdue everyone without being disarmed first.
And what good would it do? It would only reaffirm the fear these people had. Fear instilled in them by a man in a long dark robe. Fear of a god their grandfathers had never known. Grey eyes flicked away as the woman was bound in the center of the pyre, for that was what it was, more kindling being placed around her feet. His gaze caught on a woman across the expanse of the crowd, no... two women. Two women just like them. One dark, one light. One furious and one afraid. Two women that stood apart from the townsfolk, just slightly, just enough.
True witches... and just as helpless as them, though it was only a whisper into Godric's ear that stopped the man from rushing blindly ahead and either getting himself burned just as the woman was going to be... or doing far worse to these people gathered here. The warm glow of fire illuminated them as sobs and pleas became screams of terror. He held the gaze of the darker of the two across the square, reached into her mind to draw out the thought of safety, to see the glassy surface of a deep lake, of the surrounding forest, sweeping hills and isolation. It was beautiful. It was safe. Untouched by people like these.
He blinked, the connection broken and he knew they would understand. This was no place for people like them, amidst the herds of impressionable, weak willed muggles. She nodded, almost imperceptible, tugging the hand of her companion as they slipped from the crowd into the shadows. His hand pulled harder on Godric's shoulder, nearly pulling his friend back against his chest as he too stepped back. "Salazar we can help." Angry, indignant... no longer the spoiled little boy he'd met those years ago.
"What would you have us do? Saving one girl will not sway the hearts of this town or country, you fool." Hissed in his ear as they stepped around a corner. "I know somewhere nearby... somewhere safe." And with only that warning they were gone, apparating to a grassy hillside, beside a crystalline lake, where two women stood out against dark landscape, blue flames illuminating their faces.
"Dammit, Salazar." Godric snapped beside him, leaning on his arm a bit more heavily due to the, admittedly, short warning. It was only a matter of moments to close the distance between the two groups, those dancing flames coming with them, brighter than even the moon overhead but casting the group in the same kind of ethereal illumination.
"Salazar is it? I would appreciate it if you left my thoughts alone next time." The dark haired woman was disapproving but there was a tremor in the words that belied the bravado, even as she nodded to the men. "Rowena Ravenclaw." The redhead at her side offered the hand not holding those flames to the men and, ever the important one, Godric trampled her attempt to introduce herself next.
"Hel-"
"Godric Gryffindor." Her knuckles were kissed and he seemed oblivious to her annoyance. Nothing new there.
"Helga Hufflepuff." Salazar shook her hand once Godric was quite finished slobbering on her. Just a handshake, firm and respectful. He would leave the romanticism to Godric.
"Salazar Slytherin." A nod in Rowena's direction as she had not offered her own hand. There was a moment of silence, the four of them looking between each other, each more shell shocked than the last, the screams of an innocent and likely muggle woman echoing in their ears and somehow this moment felt bigger than it was. Less like running away from what they could not change and more like forging a new path towards that change. And finally, after the silence had stretched long enough to border on the edge of uncomfortable he spoke again, voice hushed.
"Well met."
