The Divine RPG - A Hellish Pandandom

*Snape stares wide-eyed at Wesley, stunned. It's clear that whatever he was expecting from Wesley, this was clearly not it. He turns his head ever so slightly to catch Barty's reaction. This was certainly _not_ the way to make friends and influence Barty, but he's so shocked by this unexpected outburst that he just can't react yet at all.*

From:

*Barty lets out a rather loud shriek (although he'll surely deny that part later) as the shoot is wrenched from his socket, it releases a gush of pus and blood and what could pass for remains of an eye - squished and destroyed - he clutches his face, sliding off his rocky perch and onto the ground, where he curls*

From:

*his disgust before hadn't really meant much in the scheme of things, but the look he casts to Wesley rather does*

Excuse me, sir. But I don't recall either of us agreeing to be your guides and I certainly don't recall anyone asking you to rip out other people's eyes when they don't want you to.

From:

*from the ground Barty stares up at Wesley's back with his one remaining eye, discharge from his now empty socket leaking between his fingers, his expression a particularly ugly, dangerous one*

From:

*offers a hand to Barty on the cave floor, Regulus is the least capable of physical violence of the four of them but that doesn't stop him from threatening in ways he can*

So I suggest you keep your hands to yourself. It seems neither of you know anything about Five at all, and if you continue on with your authoritarian attitude I expect the next step of your journey will be very learn-as-you-go.

From:

*Snape looks briefly at each of them in turn, not sure of just what went on with his companion there, and hoping there won't be a repeat of it.*

I'm sorry, Crouch, Black. He's usually not like this.

From:

*To Wesley, Snape turns an exasperated expression.*

What are you _doing_? I told Crouch I wasn't going to hurt him, so you perform eye surgery without anesthesia?

I can't take you anywhere, *Snape adds with a grumble.*

From:

stupidlittlegit. *Wesley turns and begins to pace, seems unable to remain still. He is openly staring at Barty and Reg in a derisive, challenging way.* What makes you think, *he directs to Barty and Reg,* that you have a choice? *To Snape:* And if you don't like the way I operate, you can shove off on your own.

*There's something in his face that indicated he might not be certain of his own behaviour, but it doesn't stop him from spitting at the floor between himself and Snape in a "male dominance" manner.*

From:

*Snape can't believe that Wesley is doing this; what has gotten into him? He stares at the gob of spit for a moment, then stares at Wesley in astonishment. For a moment, he has a desire to keep staring at Wesley until her reflection forms and he will lose control, but he shakes his head just as they start to happen, tearing his eyes away. Instead, he silently and with as much dignity as possible, turns his back on all three of them and stares off down the tunnel.*

Are we going, or not? *he snaps.*

From:

When did you turn into such a prat? Of course we're going, I'm waiting on you worthless lot to get your sorry asses off the ground. C'mon, then- *he slides his hand down the front of his trousers and makes a rather rude gesture in their general direction-* shift it, wankers.

*He begins to swagger down one of the tunnels, spitting and swearing. His inflections have taken a definite nose dive into the seedier side of London.*

From:

*Snape is good at hiding his emotions, so to Wesley, he gives a bland expression. He knows he can't take Wesley in a fair fight, so he inwardly seethes at this unexpected and unwanted show of bravado. He lets Wesley pass, his blank face showing no hint of his true emotions. But once Wesley has passed, Snape briefly, just long enough for Barty and Reg to see, makes a horrible, very dangerous face behind his back. Still, he follows wordlessly, biding his time.*

From:

*Barty, having taken the arm up, rests his gaping socket against Reg's bony shoulder, allowing the swamp water to freeze the wound close, he seems oddly docile in that moment, vengeance delayed not only by the virtue that ripping away from Reg's shoulder will bring the pain of bamboo removal afresh but also because he's dreadfully confused - confused as to why Snape and Wesley seem to assume they're headed downwards with them at all and why anyone would willingly trod to lower levels in the first place*

From:

*Regulus stays seated, not wanting to hurt Barty's eye any more than it already has been, though he knows eventually Barty will have to peel his face off his shoulder anyway*

Now, wait just a moment. You want to go down and you think because we happened to make each others acquaintance that we'll take you? Admittedly Three isn't particularly pleasant but you do realise there isn't anywhere better down there, don't you?

From:

*Barty attempts a small, experimental tug, the frost giving an audible but useless crack*

From:

*looks away from the retreating backs of Wesley and Snape to glance down at Barty, fused to his shoulder*

You waited too long again.

From:

DON'T SAY THAT! It just needs some picking. There shouldn't even be picking. Not on MY end. When kids get their tongues stuck to poles, the pole NEVER suffers. Those rules are sacred. They should never change.

How will I bash their skulls open on the rocks when I have a shouldereye?

From:

The difference between you and metal poles is that poles don't get themselves stuck on tongues, it's the tongue's fault. I believe that tables have been turned, just try to use your fingernails to loosen your face.

From:

*Snape is torn; part of him doesn't want to be with Mr. Alpha Male, and he rather thinks that, particularly at this moment, he could be Alpha Male over Reg and Barty. He's not sure why that matters; technically, Wesley was unofficial leader of their group before. He's just so irritating right now. But...Wesley can possibly get him out of here, and that is a chance he just can't pass up. And even if it turns out to be bogus, he still has a greater chance of finding out what's gone on since his death if he follows Wesley. Snape stops long enough to fill them in on their plan.*

Pryce here thinks we can get out, if we can get to Dis. Dis is down two levels. _That's_ why we're headed down.

*He contemplates whether or not to give them his advice on how to more easily and less painfully free Barty. He wants to and yet, strangely, he'd rather laugh at their pathetic attempts to free themselves. For the first time, Snape really wonders about this ambivalence, but only briefly, as Wesley isn't likely going to wait for long. He decides to tell them in the end, though he's not sure if it's because he wants to help, or wants the satisfaction of pointing out the obvious.*

You know, running water has a way of melting ice. Why don't you wring your hair out over your shoulder or something, to help thaw Crouch?

*He turns away again and starts after Wesley, once more pondering his own--and Wesley's--unusual behavior.*

From:

Look here, Crotch and... whatever your bloody name is..., I'm your best damn chance of getting out of here. Now if you want to spend the rest of your miserable and worthless afterlives in Hell, be my guest. That's probably for the best, as Snape's said it. But as I see it, somewhere in the city of Dis is the key to our escape, and it has nothing to do with scrambling your way out of Hell's festering ass.

*Wes pauses, looks about him, and sniffs almost delicately. He then spits on the ground.* Here, this way. Guess we don't need you two maggots after all. I can smell the decay and damp of Five. It smells just like the whinger back there.

From:

*Barty's docile moments are rare and even when they do occur they tend to end quickly and violently, it's unclear what exactly the trigger is, if there's a trigger at all, but something about Wesley's manner worms itself under Barty's frozen and freckled skin - the only warning that's given is the dull crack of ice*

From:

*Regulus has his mouth open to tell this Wesley fellow just what he thinks of his little plan when Barty yanks his head off Reg's shoulder and is across the cave floor within a moment, so Regulus closes his mouth and waits his turn*

From:

*Snape hears Barty coming and says flatly to Wesley*

Incoming.

*He turns to face Crouch, ready to either get out of his way or fight if need be.*

From:

*Unbeknownst to poor Barty and Reg, Wes, by the time of his death, was rather ruthless and extremely deadlly. And also unbeknownst to poor Barty, Wes is not at all consciously aware of his brutish and bullying behaviour. Wesley has a lot of issues with bullying and this slow release of "proper" inhibitions is releasing all that "little scrawny wimpy picked on kid" angst. Wes hears Barty and easily sidesteps his advance, then lightening quick whips the pickaxe inches from Barty's face.*

Do you have something to say, you little twit? *to Reg* I suggest, boy *said with nasty derision* that you keep your cur on a leash, or he may find my pickaxe inserted into the orifice of my choice.

*to Barty, pick hovering in front of his face* Make yourself useful. Get out of my way.

From:

*Barty may be a frail thing with daddy issues but one trait he has never possessed is angst from his school days - it's not that he was particularly popular or even that he tired to keep his head down - rather he was avoided - avoided because even the most nubile of children can recognize batshit insanity in their own way, and batshit insanity is something Barty has a great abundance of, it's this very abundance that causes him to be deathly afraid of removing a bamboo stick and yet perfectly content in grasping the offending pick axe, meaning to wrestle it away, confident he faces imminent success*

From: