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Dec 16, 2018 9:48 AM
Jamie and Lesath in magical Antebellum South
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She's quite certain this is a bad idea. But she's also quite sure she has no choice in the matter, however much she doesn't want to be here. But. She chose this. Chose this path, and this method. They had given her a choice of which ritual she would perform, and she had studied it very well. And she understands why exactly they're doing this to her. It's unpleasant, but... it's as the Dark Lord decrees, so. Here she is.

She's the only one not in thick winter robes and masks, but she can't really perform the ritual with all that bulky cloth, so she's dressed the innermost layer of her Hogwarts uniform. She's freezing, her warming charm had worn off a little while ago and she has no time to recast it.

They linger close, watching ever so silently, their stares heavy on all sides. It's oppressive, but she's dealt with worse over the years. And finally, she finishes setting everything up. The moon is full and shining down on her, illuminating her surroundings.

"May I begin?"

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There's deep silence, until eventually someone -- maybe Black, she can't tell with the mask -- nods clearly and waves their wand at the candles, igniting them.

Everybody shifts inwards, towards her and the circle.

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Her nerves make her hands shake and she nearly drops her wand. But with a deep breath her heart and her hands steady and she recites the words over the flame.

They're old words, ancient. She hadn't been sure of the pronunciation before she'd dug up a equally ancient book in the Restricted Section that had clarified things. The words invoked a deep ache in what she knows to be her soul. It calls out to -- something. She doesn't know what, is too afraid to ask. Too many questions would get her killed.

This was going to get her killed.

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There's no going back. Her parents hated her, and Harry -- Harry can't save her now. She's so far under that she thinks death is the only option.

Or. She could put her faith in the Dark Lord Voldemort.

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-- she does.

And recites the last words of the ritual.

The Knights around her are moving, their wands twisting and turning. The magic in the air is hot and cold and tastes of copper.

She feels a pull, right in her soul. She closes her eyes and there's another violent jerk, all the air in her lungs is expelled in one moment. She can't scream.

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-- and then she's somewhere else entirely.

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She appears to be... in an orchard? In the center of a chalk pentacle surrounded by candles, though it seems to be abandoned right now.

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....What's this?

It's something, or someone, that looks like a young lady. He approaches the pentacle carefully. This is.... unusual.

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She's dressed strangly, but recognizably in some sort of uniform. A long skirt, black tights and a long-sleeved button up shirt.

She twist towards the sound of the footsteps and raises her wand, ready to cast a shield spell. This is not Hogwarts.

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"...Hi. Are you okay?"

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She blinks at him and stares for a moment, not lowering her wand.

"Who are you? Identify yourself, please." She's never seen him before and his accent is foreign.

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She has an English accent and her uniform looks vaguely English as well, as if she's from some kind of boarding school. Also, she has a wand.

She hasn't attacked him yet, but that could be because of the chalk. "You first," he says. Names can sometimes be powerful.

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Her wand is steadily pointed at him, but she makes no movements to cast a spell.

She hesitates at his question and decides to switch tracks. Giving him her name is too risky. He could be the enemy.

"Where are we? I don't recognize this place. Did you bring me here?"

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"Nowhere in particular. This is my family's plantation, and I don't know how you arrived here." Hm. "Are you able to stand up and come a bit closer?" It's not an order or a request; if she's been holding off because of the chalk, this shouldn't change anything. He thinks.

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(Sometimes location is important too.)

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She quickly looks down at her feet, examining the circle.

"I'm not sure. I've never seen this sort of ritual before. It's not the one I was performing."

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“It shouldn’t hurt you, even if you can’t.” Not very much, that is.

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Jamie stares at him for a long moment, unsure of his true intentions. But.. she can't stay here forever.

She attempts to step over the chalk.

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....aaaand her foot, along with the rest of her, lands safely on the other side!

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....belatedly he realizes he didn’t consider the case where she could cross the line but hadn’t realized it yet.

Well, now he’ll see, he supposes.

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She sighs a little in relief, but keeps her wand steady and pointed at him.

"My mum calls me Euphemia."

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He has not drawn his wand. This is because he expects he would lose if they ended up dueling. He hopes she interprets his inaction as peaceability and confidence in his wandless magic instead of weakness.

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“I’m.... no one in particular.”

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“...but you can call me Lida.”

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"Lida. No one in particular, from nowhere in particular. I do need some answers. I suspect I am a long way from home."

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“Where’s home?” Obviously somewhere in Britain.

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