dignity is for the wealthy...

Keera hadn’t the faintest idea where the kitchen was located in the huge castle, and yet, somehow she managed to find it on accident when her stomach had started to growl pleadingly, desperate for some sort of food to end the aching. Normally, Keera didn’t wait so long to eat, but lately, she had been having a hard time dragging herself down to the great hall because of her incapability to trust- you see, it was getting worse. Imagine, if you can, walking into a room full to the brim with people, and then, add to that image the fear of being poisoned, stabbed, or betrayed by every single one of those people. Keera had found it a whole lot simpler to lock herself away in her office than to face her fears, but she was no ghost, she still had to eat, and so, Keera found herself walking down the hallways way too early in the morning, in search of something to fill her stomach.

Having heard stories during her years at Hogwarts as a student, Keera knew when she came across a large portrait of a bowl of fruit that she had found what it was she had been looking for. However, she hadn’t a clue how to get inside. She tried spells of all sorts, but none of them were successful, and she was beginning to feel as if she would never eat again. Or, at least, until someone came walking down the hallway. Keera had hid, of course, as soon as she had heard the man’s footsteps. She hadn’t been foolish enough to assume that everyone else was still asleep, for she knew morning people did exist despite popular belief, and so, it hadn’t startled he too badly when she had first heard someone approaching.

Tickling the pear in the painting- now that was something Keera would have never thought of. She assumed it had been one of Dumbledore’s ideas… the man had been as mad as a hatter, Keera knew it was true since the first time she saw those twinkling eyes of his. But then again, Keera was no one to judge when it came to madness.

She watched as the man stepped inside the kitchen. Well, there was her ticket in, and if she believe in luck, she would have said, “what luck”, however, Keera Mast did not believe in such things, and so, her mouth staid closed as she fallowed the man stealthily, her wand held at arm’s length. Keera watched as he touched one of the plates, obviously contemplating something. He is going to poison your food! He was sent by one of your enemies to kill you! her mind screeched, and so she stepped forward swiftly and wrapped her arm around the man’s throat, putting him in a headlock with her wand pressed to the side of his head. “Heeeello…” Keera greeted in an eerie voice, her eyes dark and threatening.

“Room survice- ha! Liar! Sick, twisted, liar!” Keera shouted at the top of her lungs, not even bothering to think of what would happen if someone heard her shouting that way. With her top lip curled upward in a rather threatening way, Keera shoved the man to one of the white walls in the kitchen, both of her hands on his chest so to hold him in place, “You are try-
ing to poison me, aren’t you- no, no! Don’t answer that, I know that it is true!” she hissed through her teeth, which were biting down on her tongue, sending a sharp pain through her mouth.

Keera brushed the man’s long hair back with the back of her hand, while jabbing her wand against the side of his head forcefully, a dangerous look in her eyes- almost merciless. She had come to the kitchens to grab a bite to eat, only to find a little weasel whom she thought had been trying to poison her food. It didn’t matter to her on bit if he had actually been poisoning her food or not; her brain was sending signals to her body, telling her that she needed to punish him for his bad behavior, to make him writhe in pain. Keera inhaled slowly; she had never felt so desperate to harm someone, & she was almost frightened with her own thoughts. Usually, Keera liked to have others do the dirty worker for her because of the unavoidable guilt that came with murder, but as she stood in front of the tattered looking man she felt nothing of the sort.

“Its your fault, you know? All your fault,” she mumbled, her eyes flashing with fear for a moment, but only a fraction of a second, before they took on that dark, merciless quality once more, “Fernomia” Keera spoke the incantation of a curse she had learned when spending time around Mathew Lestrange durring her years at Hogwarts. The spell was one that she had never been particularily fond of, but it had been the first thing to come to mind.