Post by Siara Brightweather on Jul 12, 2017 21:17:04 GMT -5
The world wrapped around Siara, squeezing her sideways until she couldn't breathe. Time fell on its head and shattered. Something was amiss with the spell! Apparition forced air into emptiness with a loud crack, just as a severe pain split her forehead. Memory caught on the edge of the pain, freezing time for an instant.
Whisper-beat of wings, shuddering on cold London fog. Golden streetlight reflected against silver feathers stirring the mists into whorls of shadow. The hawk landed on a lamp post. As she turned her head, tawny eyes caught the gaslight, twin circles of gold peering into the night. Seeing no one about, the hawk fluttered to the ground. Tendrils of fog caught at her feathers as she grew, shifted, in one eye-blink in the half-light as a tall witch in black robes emerged. Her bootheels clicked on the cobblestones as she landed deftly, long shadow cast by the gaslight now above her. It was a calm night, belied by the swirling mist filling the sidestreets of London like an ocean of lichlight. The night flight had also brought calm to the heart of Siara Brightweather, Headmistress of Hogwarts. After a long, arduous war leaving a trail of casualties, betrayals, and the darkest shadows of the heart, it was hard to believe that peace had once again returned to the world. It was not so easy to set aside one's attunement to danger and threats lurking everywhere, which on this night would save the tall witch's life.
A spell whirled out of the darkness, moaning as it pulled the air shut behind it. Siara's tense reflexes responded before she was aware, her body dancing out of reach of the acid-green spell. It splashed against the wall behind her with a hiss, but her wand was already out. More spells, a deluge of ill-intent, flew at her from all angles. An ambush! But how? The witch was hard-pressed to defend herself, weariness from the decisive battle just a day before already sapping her strength. Hooded figures closed in on her amid the flash of contorted spellwork between them. She had to escape! Hogsmeade! A spell caught at her ankle, but jerking it free, Siara vanished.
The memory was driven from her thoughts as she slammed into the side of a building, but her landing on the ground was lighter than expected. In fact, Siara felt rather fuzzy around her mind and senses. She struggled to get to her feet, only to pitch forward again on the dew-encrusted grass. The air smelled of hedge and thistle and woodsmoke. Hogsmeade. At least she had made her destination. But what was wrong with her body? The witch tried to rise to her feet again, only to tip over sideways. Growling in annoyance, Siara was astonished to hear a squawk emerge from her instead. Merlin's beard, what...Oh dear. Realization and logic finally arrived to the befuddled witch's mind. She was in her Animagus form!
Focusing on her human form was an effort. The whole world felt sideways. Felt...wrong. And without that focus, she was stuck as a bird for the time being. Siara flapped her wings and hissed; an avian equivalent of stamping her foot in exasperation. What in Merlin's coat closet was going on?
Whisper-beat of wings, shuddering on cold London fog. Golden streetlight reflected against silver feathers stirring the mists into whorls of shadow. The hawk landed on a lamp post. As she turned her head, tawny eyes caught the gaslight, twin circles of gold peering into the night. Seeing no one about, the hawk fluttered to the ground. Tendrils of fog caught at her feathers as she grew, shifted, in one eye-blink in the half-light as a tall witch in black robes emerged. Her bootheels clicked on the cobblestones as she landed deftly, long shadow cast by the gaslight now above her. It was a calm night, belied by the swirling mist filling the sidestreets of London like an ocean of lichlight. The night flight had also brought calm to the heart of Siara Brightweather, Headmistress of Hogwarts. After a long, arduous war leaving a trail of casualties, betrayals, and the darkest shadows of the heart, it was hard to believe that peace had once again returned to the world. It was not so easy to set aside one's attunement to danger and threats lurking everywhere, which on this night would save the tall witch's life.
A spell whirled out of the darkness, moaning as it pulled the air shut behind it. Siara's tense reflexes responded before she was aware, her body dancing out of reach of the acid-green spell. It splashed against the wall behind her with a hiss, but her wand was already out. More spells, a deluge of ill-intent, flew at her from all angles. An ambush! But how? The witch was hard-pressed to defend herself, weariness from the decisive battle just a day before already sapping her strength. Hooded figures closed in on her amid the flash of contorted spellwork between them. She had to escape! Hogsmeade! A spell caught at her ankle, but jerking it free, Siara vanished.
The memory was driven from her thoughts as she slammed into the side of a building, but her landing on the ground was lighter than expected. In fact, Siara felt rather fuzzy around her mind and senses. She struggled to get to her feet, only to pitch forward again on the dew-encrusted grass. The air smelled of hedge and thistle and woodsmoke. Hogsmeade. At least she had made her destination. But what was wrong with her body? The witch tried to rise to her feet again, only to tip over sideways. Growling in annoyance, Siara was astonished to hear a squawk emerge from her instead. Merlin's beard, what...Oh dear. Realization and logic finally arrived to the befuddled witch's mind. She was in her Animagus form!
Focusing on her human form was an effort. The whole world felt sideways. Felt...wrong. And without that focus, she was stuck as a bird for the time being. Siara flapped her wings and hissed; an avian equivalent of stamping her foot in exasperation. What in Merlin's coat closet was going on?