I've Been a Fool, More Than Once, More Than Twice

[Abathyn Dalmoir]

I'm gonna move to a new town, where the people are nice. [adminapproval=7368658]

Abathyn had lost her children. A loving mother, this was all too much to deal with. The last year had been hectic, panicky. Four scars for four murders, that was her tradition. A dangerous, concerning tradition but a tradition all the same, in her opinion. There had been no murders for a couple of weeks, but Abathyn was feeling bloodthirsty again. Locking the door to her beach cottage on the Otago coast, the Death Eater was uncertain whether moving from Fiordland was still the right idea. She was out of the self imposed quarantine she'd called home, and into the big wide world of Dunedin. The step was terrifying.
The twenty-seven year old had history of only pretending, faking her pride in her success for years to escape really feeling the pain she did. But one cannot pretend forever, one must crack at some point. As she had. Hating how she used to pretend to act, Abathyn began to change a little, more openly bloodthirsty. A smirk crossed her face, strolling with light steps towards the gate to the beach. The woman found herself pondering, wand or blade. She wasn't exactly surprised, should have figured it would escape tradition and turn to a fetish for blood. The gate ahead opened at a flick of her hand. The dim light displayed her face as firmly set, a little sick smirk and her eyes glowed unhappy. Hesitating steps took her to the water, then Abathyn was on her knees with her wand at her wrist. "Jaimee," she said at the first, voice catching as the blood gushed. Her wand hand was shaking uncontrollably, perhaps from the cold or the immensity of her actions. Another swipe; "Laani," as tears threatened to fall for the children she would never meet again. Her black robes swum amongst the blood-stained water, wondering why she bothered Abathyn gave a grimace. "What the-" she muttered, disbelieving that it couldn't have worked. She was left to sit, literally in her own life, alone and regretting it all. One more try she thought, not really thinking she took out her knife and dug it into a fresh cut, piercing another vein but not much more. "Oops."

 

[Eileen Doyle]

Eileen was annoyed. This particular annoyance had infiltrated her senses for a few days now, since she had been forced to take a vacation away from the Ministry. A couple of weeks ago, she had been made to put down a wizard in the heat of combat, and it took a toll on the way she performed her day to day tasks. The wizard in question was one of the most wanted for that month, having killed two muggles and one unlucky muggle born witch; the aurors soon got wind of his whereabouts, and when they arrived on the scene, he began to shoot killing curses at the group. Eileen made a quick decision, and soon subdued him fatally. After the skirmish, the aurors checked his arm and saw that he did not have the dark mark. The man was simply attempting to copy the Death Eaters tactics. Nothing in his apartment pointed at his trifling with Death Eaters, and so there was no clue found that hinted at the Death Eater's base.

The rest of the week was all about filing paper work, and contacting the wizards family. Only his mother still lived, and so she and another trusted auror went to her house and broke the horrible news. It was perhaps the toughest moment of Eileen's career, for she had never informed a family member of someones death. Especially, when they were the one committing the murders that were talked about in the Daily Prophet. From then on, Eileen kept her head down, completely deep within her own thoughts, and refused any form of therapy. It was her first kill as an auror, and she frequently questioned this particular career choice.

Seeing her actions, and the way the young auror acted, she was talked into taking a vacation for one week. Eileen protested, but followed orders, and now she was here on the beach. She frowned, thinking back on all that had happened. She knew eventually she would have gotten over it, and this forced vacation had only made her think of this more and more. Being alone with no one to converse with was not ideal in this situation.

Eileen walked slowly onto the beach, suddenly pleased that she had forgone shoes this time. The sand squeezed between her toes in a pleasant manner. Eileen raised her head and saw another visitor to the beach. But...something wasn't right... Her black robes shielded the woman.... blood? "Hey! Hey!" Eileen jogged over to the woman. "Are you okay...?" Her eyes widened as she caught sight of the knife embedding into the woman's skin.

 

[Abathyn Dalmoir]

Abathyn felt her eyes well up- this was definately not a normal day. Yet she was still aching for more blood, like it was going to keep her going. It didn't hurt her because she was numb from her emotions. Not that that offered any excuse. Like her ears were blocked, Abathyn heard faint calls from up the beach. Don't come over, don't come over. The Death Eater found her breath catching, panicked at the idea of being found. But of course, she had to be found, didn't she? And, Abathyn realised with a wince, she was in her thick black witch's cloak. What if it was a Muggle? How would she explain her Dark Mark in a Muggle hospital? Hell, she could hardly even explain it to a Healer! As her thoughts raced, things got darker like they were supposed to in every single cliche out there. Hearing the woman's concerned seeming statement, Abathyn rolled her eyes still staring at the bloody water. "Well it hurts a bit." she stated, before cracking up into a sarcastic laugh. This woman was probably going to think she was crazy, mused the Death Eater, and she keeled forwards to lie in the water. The last thing she thought before passing out? Ouch.

 

[Eileen Doyle]

Eileen stopped in her tracks, her eyes stayed wide as the woman fell into the sand, her dark hair hitting the water with a muffled thump and splash. "Oh." She said, suddenly, her voice growing louder in pitch. Luckily, she was trained in this area to not panic, and seek medical attention immediately. She knelt down, ignoring the ice cold ocean water foaming around her knee caps, and pulled the woman out of the water. Is she dead? Eileen checked the pulse. No. Thank God. The woman's arm was bleeding pretty heavily, and she worried that the salt water had gotten bacteria in it. If that was the case, then the arm could get infected. The knife had been swept out of her reach, and it was now floating thirty feet out in the water. Eileen knew what she had to do, and fortunately the girl was not too heavy to sidelong apparate.

She could be a muggle. That thought crossed throughout the aurors mind, and she pondered whether or not St Mungo's would be the correct choice in this particular situation. Damn it. Make a decision now. Use your head! St Mungo's it would be. Even if she were not a witch, her mind could be obliviated after receiving proper medical treatment. Besides, Eileen had not spotted a hospital anywhere near the area, and would not know where to apparate to, if she needed to find one. Plus, she was wearing the familiar wizard garb... it could be likely this woman was a witch. Eileen inwardly sighed, and turned to apparate. St Mungo's was the destination.

 

[Abathyn Dalmoir]

With closed eyes and wavering between dreary half-conscious dreaming and bitter nightmares of her children, you could say Abathyn was more than a little haunted. Her brain worked in over-drive, the feeling of being squeezed through a tube that most witches and wizards hate the most about apparation reminded her sub-conscious of being tightly wrapped in a blanket and tied with a rope, three days spent bound on her adoptive parents' lounge floor as a child. While choosing to not remember her first ten years, Abathyn could not truely forget. This was the way with painful memories. And yet, in her own mind's little form of torture, she seemed completely calm and normal to the average person's eye. All except the blood dripping from her hand and wrist, that is.
Numbly aware of her limp body being released from the tight hold of the apparation, Abathyn had to have been coming out of her dead nap. But her eyes stayed closed, she remained as quiet as she could; they would be asking questions and she didn't want to answer them.

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