Lycanthropus

Terror struck through Elizabeth Murdoch like the ice of a blade pressing up under her chin. All good humoured banter in regards to the festival left her lips and fluttered away in the air as fear replaced it. Her smile slid from her face and she reached out, taking hold of Sebastien’s offered hand, seizing his fingers in her scorching ones, betraying within her something of the nearness of the full moon that was encroaching slowly upon them both, though unbeknownst to either of them in regards to each other’s relation to it. Such a thing didn’t really matter in this moment. It was about survival. Something almost carnal. Something a werewolf was suited to.

The sound of apparition cracked and echoed down the corridor, causing Beth to swirl around, lifting up her wand, the end burning with the beginnings of a hex. She took a breath and waited a few beats of her thundering heart. Then, only then, did it begin. Out from the darkness, a bright purple bolt of magic shot forward towards them. From the end of her wand, Beth produced a bursting shield charm, deflecting the magic off. It collided with the shelves, exploding against them. Purple light filled the area amongst the shelves and Beth shrank back against Sebastien, her eyes straining against it.

“Got any ideas?” She whispered furiously as the light died down. She flashed her wand around, trying to discern any figures in the darkness.

Panic was riddling itself into Beth’s system and even though she was stealing in breaths, she felt as though she could barely breathe. She glanced at Sebastien, suddenly feeling utterly lost, out of her depth, and in need of guidance. She was a clever witch, though. She’d left her trail. She could get them out of this. The only problem was that she didn’t know where the security wizards were. She took a step back, her heel clicking on the marble, and another shot of light emerged from the darkness.

“Sebastien, duck!” She exclaimed, pulling at him as the magic sliced over their heads.

Taking a breath, Beth pushed at him and gasped out that they needed to go. Move. But it was dangerous. They seemed to be responding to sound. Beth flicked her wand and sent books flying off of the shelf. Immediately, the magic followed and she flicked her wand again, tossing more books off of the shelf until it was unclear where exactly they were and between the magic and the books flailing from the shelves there was enough sound for them to start running.

Whatever the means they had to get out. Beth just hoped that the books they’d gotten were worth it.

Sebastien knew there was some reason why he hated duelings and the reason became quite obvious now - duelings reminded him of real battles. The only thing he disliked in wizarding world. Magic was wonderful, powerful and beautiful, it wasn't meant for killing or hurting other people, or at least it shouldn't been meant.

When it comes to violence he was more a Muggle than a wizard, he always chose his body rather then his wand. Using one in that purpose he simply found wrong. But these guys did exactly that.
He shut his eyes for a second focusing on his body. The feeling of marble floor below him, books on the rusty shelves behind him, Elizabeth's hand in his own. The moment lasted too short. With new rush of spells in their direction his eyes shut open.

His first instinct was to run away. Just run and leave everything, but he couldn't do that. He couldn't leave Beth here since he's the reason why were they here int he first place, and he somehow felt obligated to run away with her, or no run away at all. But staying here would mean they will be caught; and he couldn't let that happen either. "Beth, are you overly attached to that stilettos?" He laughed hoarsely, that sounded better in his head. "'Cause if you not, you're gonna need to take them off. I guess we will need to run. Eventually."

Eventually. First they need to move away from the line of spells, provide distance between them and their enemies. With that thought red light burst from the top of O'Sullivan's wand hitting shelf and bringing it down. The wood hit marble floor breaking into the small particles which flew into all directions forcing some wizards to find a nearest shield 'till it's over. That wasn't what he wanted but that might help them get out. "Beth?" He was too occupied looking for other wizards to look in her direction. "Elizabeth, we need to move." Bastien thought she won't complain about using her full name this time, weren't in an enviable situation and he just needed to attract her attention and that was the only way he could think of.

"C'mon. Let's go." He shifted into a crouching position than look at her. Thinking about providing distance was easier in his mind, but realisation was a little tricky. Especially if you had no clue where do you need to go.

They needed to get as far as the doors. From there she could apparate them out. She could do it. She was sure of it. Her jurisdiction extended that far, at least. They could escape with their books and she could crack open a bottle of wine for them to share and they could work it out from the old tomes how to meet Sebastien’s ends. But until then, they needed to get out – or at least endeavour to – as quickly as humanly possible. There was no time to wait, stilettoes be damned. She vanished them with a wave of her wand and took a moment to pout about the inches she lost.

Then she ran. As commanded, she ran. It felt the same as it did when she was picking through the forest, learning the landscape so that her coat could rustle in the breeze in a way that would not alert her to her prey. Under the light of the moon she’d run. Under the watery blue light of the archives, she also ran, hanging onto Sebastien for dear life as she tried to take them safely back through the stacks of books. It was difficult, their line that she’d drawn having been rendered useless and vulnerable to attack by the wizards who had discovered them.

She didn’t release him. Nothing would’ve made her in that moment. Even a spell. They needed to leave it was as simple as that. Firing warning shots and stunning spells at security guards was the least of her worries and she did so without preamble, venomously. They made it to the main corridor quickly and then it was just about picking the right tiles. Uttering out of the side of her mouth for him to follow her exactly she danced a line across them, hanging onto him all the while until they made it to the door.

They’d made it. “We’re safe.”

Crack! And they snapped out of all existence, reducing down into nothingness, leaving books and frustrated security guards behind them.

The pair reappeared in a heap in her living room, landing on the sofa, sending cushions flying. Beth took a moment, her eyes growing into ringing as the she registered the silence of the flat. They were safe. Completely, completely safe. She brought her hand to her mouth and looked at him, her grin stretching out from around her fingers, and then all of a sudden she launched herself forward, pressing her lips impulsively against his before, just as quickly, pulling away with a bright laugh as she got to her feet.

“Red wine and what sort of take-out?” Beth called over her shoulder as she moved briefly into the kitchen, long enough to grab a bottle, two glasses and some menus. “We can do whatever. Any price is worth it after that,” she huffed out a breath of air as her grin remained fixed on her lips and she dropped herself back down beside him, setting the things down on the coffee table before them.

“Please tell me you have everything you needed,” she mock-begged. “We’re not going in there ever again. Well, I mean, you can,” she added, pulling out the cork with a wave of her wand, “but I don’t think I’m going to rush back in any time soon.” She conceded, pouring out etiquette portions for them both.

They were safe.

Sebastien run right behind Beth. Their feets hitting the floor in steady rhythm. Pieces of destroyed wood and broken glass were breaking under their weight but that didn't slowed them down, not even for a second. He knew they will be caught if they stop, if they turn their heads backward. The guards needed just a second of their inattention to hex them, and while they're moving they are harder to hit. However that didn't mean that guards didn't tried to hex them. Thought Sebastien O'Sullivan knew this breaking into the Ministry would be pretty tricky, he didn't thought it would be that difficult.

Although he had no idea where are they running he unquestioningly followed her. Like he could complain even if he wanted to. He could only hope she works here long enough to find a way out. 'Cause if they caught them, she'll lose her job, altogether with her freedom, probably, and he didn't want to be the cause for that.
The environment as they run changed too fast for him to notice any single thing that would tell him where are they exactly. So after about a five minutes he stopped trying and forced his muscles to run harder thought they're already burning.

Pure happiness filled him when he saw they're getting closer to the exit. Thought the different spells flew everywhere around them and it was a miracle that no one hit them, he couldn't stop thinking that the hardest part of their way was nearly finished. As their feet touched the marble floor again while they were closer and closer to the atrium where the apparition is possible he quietly laughed. They'll make it.
His grip on Elizabeth's hand tighten when they reached the atrium and they vanished in a ball of white light.

Sebastien's gaze curiously flew around as he was trying to adjust on change of environment. He didn't know where are they but they could be everywhere but in the Ministry, if he's the one to ask. However, Beth probably aparated them to hers place. It was the most logical outcome. Thought he didn't know for sure, if there were any personal pictures in the room he didn't see them.
His lips spread into a smile as he exhaled in relief. They're outside of the Ministry. And alive. He returned his gaze to Elizabeth only to notice there's a huge smile spread on her face too.

Beth lips on his startled him. He definitely didn't expect that, and before he could react they were gone, and she left the room few seconds after. The only evidence they were ever on his was pleasant pricking. Well, this woman was one big puzzle, and he could never guess what she'll do next. Maybe he could get used to that.

"Works for me." He replied. Usually he avoided any sort of alcohol and always tried to be completely sobar, but today they went into hornet's nest and came out unharmed, if that wasn't something that needs to celebrate he didn't know what is.

"I've got no idea, but this books must be enough, 'cause I'm not going back either. I've had enough running for the rest of my life." He picked his glass, clinked with her glass and took a sip.

Hell, she did know to choose a wine, too.

Azkaban was the last place in the entire world that Elizabeth Murdoch wanted to spend her time. It was the place in which both she and Sebastien could have found themselves if the Aurors had caught hold of them, though. The idea that they’d succeeded in escaping such a fate was a dizzying on to her and made her pour her wine with a heavy-handedness that she didn’t often employ. Success made her full of bluster because so much had been at stake. She should have known that it wasn’t going to be an in-and-out job. There was always going to be much more to it than that. It was all at great personal cost, too. Beth didn’t realise how much until she was sat there.

Her lips stung with the memory of her impulsivity and her eyes flicked back to his mouth as she wondered whether or not she could get away with doing it again. He began to talk about the books, reminding her that it was rude to stare. She brought her gaze to his and nodded, agreeing with him that all of her running for the next decade was about done. It was different at the Full Moon of course. That was just nature. That was when it felt good to storm through the trees and feel the wind in her fur. She didn’t think she’d ever shake the Ministry’s chill from her bones or the fear it had invoked.

Picking up the leaflets, Beth held up the Chinese and the Indian, asking him to choose between them before gathering up all of the leaflets and making her way back into the kitchen to call for the meal. She ordered one for two and a few general sides before returning with another bottle of wine. She smiled and sat down next to him again before picking up her glass and taking a sip of it. The beaded bag she’d put their books in had been set down on the coffee table at some juncture though she couldn’t quite remember when. She wanted to make quick work of forgetting all about that evening, in truth.

She really would lead a happy life if she never had to go into the archives again.

“Come on then,” she said jovially, turning to face him. “We went to school together and I put my neck on the chopping block for you. Yet, I barely even know you. General things. I don’t really want the sob story – though you’re welcome to detail it if I don’t have to reciprocate, I’ll listen. Just general things. At least I’ll know the bloke I went out of the way for. And I’m getting drunk regardless so you can tell me a load of tall tales if you like and I probably won’t know the difference.”

Sebastien glanced around as adrenalin slowly stopped running through his veins leaving burning pain in his muscles. He was never a person who finds running amusing, so outside of his, ahem, monthly activities he never runs. It reflected on his fettle, and at moments like this, he regretted 'cause he doesn't run more, or he'll regret it when muscle soreness comes at full swing. It was much easier to ignore the pain if you're focused on something else, so he decided to focus on the interior thinking he might see a hint of Elizabeth's personality in it. Thought he personally didn't believe some part of the furniture can reflect the human personality, it was written in some book Hogwarts' library got recently, he guessed it was because nobody didn't want it, so let's see if the book is telling the truth.

Nope. All he could conclude from looking into a chair is that the chair is wooden. No childhood traumas, happy moments, it's just a chair. Ordinary wooden chair.

He left that thoughts turning back into his previous position. His gaze travelled to the books on the table, he didn't want to go through all that now, this evening was too dinamic so far, but he hoped the books are worth of all that. Sebastien put his hand over his mouth, absently tapping with thumb over the upper lip. It's been some time since the last time he let himself to kiss, even touch someone. Specifically since Oslo, since he was turned against his will. Usually he wouldn't think a lot about a single kiss but it was something he avoided so far, thinking that every time when he kiss someone it would be obvious that he turned into a beast. Maybe he was wrong. He shrugged, silently responding to Beth's question and letting her choose.

Bastien bit his lip, speaking about himself was never one of his favorite activities, usually he would make up some story only to get rid of that, story would often be different from every story he has ever said, but as she pointed up, she put her head on the chopping block for him, although the metaphor was a bit exaggerated he doubted that they would found themselves in better position if they are caught. Albeit he hated to admit that, she deserved a truth. Not all the truth, but some superficial and censored version of the same. Yet, that knowledge did not leave him any more reconciled with the situation. With his almost 27 years he still had some trust issues. „Well.“ He sighed trying to think about what he wanted to say. "I'm Hogwarts librarian. I guess I'm not the most pleasant company; actually one quite boring person. Is this enough?" He awkwardly finished. It's definitely easier to answer the questions than speak about himself.

But nobody said speaking about yourself was easy.

“Nope,” Elizabeth replied, popping her ‘p.’ She looked at Sebastien over the lip of her wineglass, almost certain that they’d covered the Hogwarts librarian bit and the fact that he was a grumpy git. They’d also covered that she worked at the Ministry and she was erratic. It was boring. It was stayed. It was done. She didn’t think that was the end of Sebastien O’Sullivan. She didn’t think that at all. He was far more interesting to her than he assured her he was and for the life of her she couldn’t discern why. Sometimes she wanted to strangle him. Other times … well, she helped him and then escaped with him and kissed him. It wasn’t perfectly normal behaviour but he wasn’t a shining paragon of polite society, either. He intrigued her.

“You are not boring,” she admonished, setting down her wine glass as she pushed herself up onto her knees in front of him. She settled her hands down on his shoulders, a cheeky flash of a smile appearing at the sides of her lips, and she looked at him carefully, waiting for him to say something or object or decide that she was already too drunk to make sense out of. She wasn’t, of course, but she couldn’t have blamed him from shirking her off. The adrenaline was ebbing away now. Daylight was metaphorically returning to their senses – though it remained dark outside. Still, he remained interesting to her.

“Now, handsome wizard that you are, I think you have a story. I know you are a librarian. I know you’re not the most pleasant company at times but that, my dear, is what makes you far from boring. Why aren’t you pleasant company? Why are you a provocative grump? You can ask why I’m as mad as box of rabbits, by all means, but I wouldn’t have an answer for you, just as I don’t think you have an answer for either of my questions, hm?” She pulled at his collar absently, feeling the material between her thumb and forefinger.

“Not every man is interested in werewolves, either,” she pointed out. “Lycanthropy is not something to be toyed with which makes me think,” her finger moved to tap idly on the first button of his shirt and she began to roll it in her touch, “you are much more interesting than you would let anyone guess or know. Slytherin, what are you looking for?” She popped open the button, quirking an eyebrow at him with a smirk as she lowered her head to his neck, her lips grazing across his skin. “You got your adventure,” she pointed out, nosing the collar away to press her mouth to where his collarbone began on his left side. Beth lifted her head and looked at him, absently licking her lips, savouring his taste on her tongue. “What else do you want from me?” She asked.


(OOC: Beth has her priorities in order. Nice, carnal, base desires: food, water, sex. Done. Hah!)

"I like to tat, too." He added like she knows everything now. The truth was - he never tried crochet but he thought it could disrupt her attention so she'll forget to ask the question she might ask. If boring facts didn't satisfy her maybe unusual ones would. "I worked as a florist for half a year." Maybe that would be enough, he hoped that it would since he was running out of material without saying something important. Or something he finds important, and there were more than a few things on that list.

He titled his head as she put her wine glass on the table, his was already there, empty. The only evidence of why he felt a hint of dizziness. Alcohol always affected him more then he wanted to confess, Sebastien didn't know if that's because he rarely drink or because it's the same for everyone else, so he just avoided it. His gaze travelled to her mouth, her lips were alluring and shaped well, stopped for a moment, then continued downward admiring what he saw. Bastien's eyes went up again and met Beth's, he tilted his head, with a slight smile on his lips, not doing anything, not encouraging her, but not stopping her either.

He pouted his lips, aren't all the people have some kind of story? Some of the stories may be more boring than others, some of the stories are too terrible to be told, like his, but that doesn't make them any less stories. No one has never asked him that question, not even his family. Everyone just adjusted to the fact he's not the most pleasant men, but no one has never asked him why's he like that. Sebastien wasn't sure if he knew the answer, either. "Not everyone can be good and pleasant, there need to be at least a few of the opposite, you know, to keep the balance." He avoided the question, even if he wanted to answer of that one, he didn't know how.

"Werewolves are neglected. At least someone needs to try to do something." He diplomatically answered avoiding mention of his personal reasons. His sight followed the path of her finger as he realized it's getting harder to focus on their conversation. "Hmm." Very eloquent, Sebastien, very eloquent. He needed a moment to figure out what she said. What's he looking for? Many things, but specifically – nothing. Well, nothing he could think of at the moment. Her lips sent a delicious chill along his spine awakening his body. His lips parted as he looked at her. Sebastien O'Sullivan was never a man able to camouflage what he wanted to say, rather choosing direct way then a multitude of metaphors. Watching her licking her lips and remembering where those lips were a minute ago he answered:

"You."

(His priorities aren't much different, either. XD)

“Not everyone starts off the opposite. Something has to happen to make you like that,” she brought her hand to his cheek, smiling a little bit. “You shouldn’t have to be the opposite if you do not want to be,” Beth leaned in and nudged her nose affectionately against his, mentally replying amen to his assertion about the werewolves. Neglected was right. She was more than happy to help him. In fact, when sober and awake in the morning she was determined to pledge herself to help whether he wanted her aid or not. It was purely selfish, of course. He may have had a righteous reason but hers wasn’t. She didn’t want the dog inside her anymore. She wanted to be free, human, and he was her best shot.

Closing the distance between them, Beth pressed her lips against Sebastien’s, exhaling softly through her nose. One hand lingered on his cheek and the other fell to the buttons on his shirt which with her thumb and forefinger she popped open, breaking the two halves of his shirt until her fingers could skirt across his chest. She broke the embrace of their lips and peppered kisses across his jawline, travelling up to catch his earlobe between her teeth before sliding back down his neck to the base of his throat where she pressed a lingering kiss.

Lifting her head, Beth drew her fingers across his chest, letting her nails scratch a little but only enough for him to feel it, not enough to cause him any pain. Beth’s hands slipped across his shoulders underneath his shirt and pushed it away from his skin, bringing her lips back to his as she eased the shirt off of his arms, letting it fall to the rug underneath the coffee table. Her eyes dropped to his chest and a half-smile tugged at her lips as she observed him with notable appreciation in her gaze.

Another kiss went to his chest and she straightened up, looping her arms around his neck as she met his gaze, bringing her lips to within a hair’s breadth of his.

“Have me then,” she uttered.

He shook his head. "It's not that deep. I just realized I look better in darker clothes." He tried to get rid of serious atmosphere. The place on his cheek that she touched became warmer. While looking into her eyes all thoughts about werewolves and lycanthropy vanished from his thoughts, suffocated with these dark brown circles filled with a few lighter dots. Sebastien inhaled sighing the scent her perfume, it was was citrus, with a touch of a heavier scent that he could not determine, exotic. His heart pounded faster and faster as if it wanted to jump out of his chest. He fight with an argue who wanted to move his hands, reminding himself of the decision he made earlier. He won't make the first move.

This time, when her lips touched his, he was ready returning the kiss. His lips were sensually followed motions of hers harmonizing rhythm. He moved his hand from his lap to her hip, touching her skin through the slit between her clothes, playing with the end of her shirt. The other hand found its way to her dark brown hair passing through it before calming on the back of her head. A spark of worry went through his mind as she broke his shirt wide open, no one has never seen his torso this way. With pale thin scars spread all over it, the only mark of what he's been through. 'Till now he didn't realize he was ever worried about that, accepting that scars since he couldn't erase them, anyways.

A hoarse sigh left his throat as her nails went across his skin. Maybe he would be right if he assumed that Beth doesn't care how scarred he might be. His lips found her neck, dropping kisses to the edge of her shirt. He took the edges of the shirt and looked at her, waiting for her permission and giving her a way of turning him down. Since she didn't stop him, he hurriedly took off her shirt and threw it somewhere, touching now exposed parts of her tanned skin.

"With pleasure." A hint of satisfied smile appeared on his lips for a second. She didn't need to tell him twice.

(Tell me if she has different parfume. xD Also, this post might sound a little weird (euphemism of the year) since it's awkward for me to write this way on English, thought I won't let a few words to beat me. So, sorry. :S)