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Old 03-05-2021, 03:30 PM   #19 (permalink)
BanaBatGirl
Dark Force Defense League

MLE & DoM
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Join Date: May 2007
Location: Gotham
Posts: 51,207

Hogwarts RPG Name:
TBD
Gryffindor

Hogwarts RPG Name:
Zara H. Bunbury-Foster
Slytherin
Fourth Year

Ministry RPG Name:
Bernadette O. Grantham
Law Enforcement

Ministry RPG Name:
David O. Truebridge
Mysteries
Default y u torture my boyo xD
Professor Pink | Mrs. Bruce Wayne | I'm on a Goat | Glitterpuff | Dumbledore's Defense Squad | BHB

Quote:
Originally Posted by Zoe View Post
If he hadn't been focused on clearing that foggy film in the man's mind, he might have been impressed with how Truebridge was handling all of this. Based on past experience, others usually broke by now -- either by abruptly ending the connection or feeling like they were losing themselves. But the fact that he was still in the man's mind was promising.

The deeper he went, the harder it was to peel away the layers. Though he didn't say anything out loud about it, he could tell that this was a particularly strong spell to break. It was unlike anything he had ever encountered before, which was saying something for someone who had been inside more minds that he could count. Even so, he was determined to retrieve that memory Truebridge wanted. That was something the two had in comment. Though how far they were each willing to continue was to be determined.

The repetition of the Unspeakable's thoughts was heard clearly, but Dante paid no attention to it. He could even tell that the man was uncomfortable, that he could feel the pain that was intensifying with each layer of memory fog that was removed. Was that ... a flash of colour? Perhaps the colour of someone's robes? It wasn't enough to really form much of a conclusion. Nevertheless, the fleeting moment only encouraged him to continue to unhinge this mind even more, to further force his presence, to peel layer after layer after layer without care for the toll that would need to be paid by the other...
David was sweating a little by now, a cold panic-sweat a bit like a fever, his knuckles white as he gripped the chair. He felt the waves of pain washing over him like a gentle tide on the edge of the ocean... only... if the tide were red-hot and salty, and if his body were covered in tiny little papercuts.

He did not resist Zabini though, waiting, tolerating, nearly crying as he waited to see if the man were successful in retrieving the memory....
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