tdr_backup | The wind is charged with the energy of the lustful...

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The wind is charged with the energy of the lustful...

~The winds in Level two sweep Severus and Wesley into the air until they are slammed momentarily against a cliff face, then whipped up again. Other shades abound here, and the first time they are struck, it surprises them to receive a jarring shock. The gale doesn't die, but it swells and heaves like waves, and once Wes has the opportunity to touch ground, he allows himself to go limp, slack on the ground, letting the gusts blow across his prone form. He screams through the din to Snape, hoping he can hear him.~

This is impossible! We're going to have to cling to one another if we hope to escape this level!

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*Snape's landing is not graceful, but at least he's near Wesley. It feels good to lie still for a moment, his body bruised from the cliff. The winds haven't helped his nausea, either, or his headache. He hears Pryce's voice, catching perhaps every three or four words over the howling winds.*

"...impossible...have to...one another...escape..."

*He mentally fills in the blanks and comes to the same conclusion, so he belly-crawls his way to Pryce's side and grasps his wrist tightly. He briefly reflects on how appropriate many people he knew would have found his slithering movements, considering he had been the head of Slytherin House at Hogwarts for so long. He drags himself right up to Pryce's face and practically yells at him.*

Crawl! Stay low!

Mood: exasperated

We're going ... to have... to hold on-

*Wesley's nasuea has increased to the point where he can no longer control it. He turns his head away from Snape and vomits, feeling shakey and alarmingly weak. Damn this place!

He grasps Snapes wrist and yells:*

HOLD ON! WE HAVE GOT TO PRESS ON, OR WE'LL BE BUFFETED ABOUT IN HERE FOREVER.

*ooc- oops posted from wrong account, this IS wesley, really!

We're going ... to have... to hold on-

*Wesley's nasuea has increased to the point where he can no longer control it. He turns his head away from Snape and vomits, feeling shakey and alarmingly weak. Damn this place!

He grasps Snapes wrist and yells:*

HOLD ON! WE HAVE GOT TO PRESS ON, OR WE'LL BE BUFFETED ABOUT IN HERE FOREVER.

*Snape doesn't speak; the winds keep trying to choke him on his own breath. Instead, he nods and grips Pryce's wrist harder to hopefully communicate to him that he understands. He waits for his companion to make the first move, letting him set the pace. He doesn't want to rush him in his condition and, frankly, he doesn't want to rush himself, either.*

Mood: determined

*Wesley begins to bellycrawl, clasping Snape's wrist and staying low, trying to ignore the queasiness and the awful pulsing in his head. Slowly, they begin to make their way across the desolate, craggy landscape, avoiding the majority of the native shades who are caught up in the winds.*

*Snape cringes each time a native shade touches him or Pryce, since the electricity is conducted through them both. He can feel his muscles lock with each jolt, making their grasp on each other's arms tighten momentarily. Between the occasional zaps from the level 2 denizens and the effort of dragging himself along, Snape is becoming exhausted quickly. He looks around, spots a sheltered area formed by several large rocks, and starts towards it. They aren't quite there when Snape vomits; he definitely needs to rest. Once they are more or less sheltered by the rocks, Snape closes his eyes wearily, pressing against the rock. The wind howls above them, but it is much more sheltered here, and he feels he can finally catch his breath for a moment.*

I'm sorry. I couldn't keep going much further without a rest.

Don't worry, I could use a rest myself. It must be the next punishment coming on... can't be worse than leprosy, can it?

*Wesley vomits again, and is involuntarily somewhat alarmed to see the smallest wisps of crimson in the bile. He knows he's already dead, but it's still disconcerting.*

Take your time. I don't think we'll get very far through this wind feeling like this. Why don't you tell me about yourself?

(deleted comment)

Hogwarts? That's a wizarding school, isn't it? Very highly acclaimed. What did you teach?

*Snape has been wondering when they would get around to this-he hasn't been looking forward to it. Still, if they're going to be traveling together for awhile, they probably should know a little about each other. He mentally runs through his life and decides that talking about Hogwarts is (relatively) safe. Unless, of course, Pryce is one of those witch-hating types. He doesn't think so, but still, he's cautious.*

I was a teacher at Hogwarts.

*He decides not to clarify just yet what type of teacher or what type of school.*

I taught for over 10 years there. Funny, really, considering I didn't really enjoy it. What did you do?

Mood: cautious, guarded

Yes, it is.

*Snape can't help but be proud.*

Did you attend?

No, I didn't. But I do know of it. It's a highly acclaimed institution. Isn't Mr. Albus Dumbledore headmaster there? He's a bit controversial, isn't he?

*Wesley could have no idea, of course, that he had stumbled on one of the topics Snape had hoped to avoid.*

Dumbledore is dead.

*Snape responds flatly. He is glad that he never looks anyone in the eye; perhaps Pryce won't see Snape's self-loathing then. The pain of having to kill one of the few people he ever respected is still sharp and piercing.*

I'm sorry to hear that. He was a remarkable man, I hear.

*There's an awkward pause, filled only by the dry retching and the wind. Wesley studies Snape surrepticiously, wondering what he's thinking.*

So you were a teacher? What subject? It's a very rewarding devotion, isn't it? Educating youth, providing them with a good, solid foundation for their lives...

*Snape shakes himself out of his thoughts and attempts to temporarily banish his self-loathing and remorse. It is easier to talk about being at Hogwarts if he focuses on the mundane.*

Potions. And I'll tell you again, I didn't enjoy it. I don't like children, for starters.

*Of course, this begins to get back into more personal areas, and so he steers the conversation away from himself and more to Wesley. After all, it isn't fair if he doesn't receive a glimpse of this man's life as well.*

How do you know of Hogwarts? Did you attend a wizarding school in another country? Or did you teach at one?

*He adds the last, remembering how Pryce waxed eloquent on the subject of education.*

No, I... I attended a private academy that was... not a wizarding school, no. I-

*he hesitates, and then, wondering why he should show allegiance to an organization that left him out in the cold, plunges ahead*

-I attended the Watcher's Academy, actually. I was a Watcher, for a time. I can't really say that I enjoyed my post either. You do know of the Watcher's Council, don't you? Being a wizard, I would assume...

*Snape isn't sure he's surprised at this revelation; Pryce seems very much like what he's heard Watchers to be like. He's never, to the best of his knowledge, met one in person before-alive or dead-but he knows they are supposed to be highly intelligent, well-trained, and that they prepare vampire Slayers for their livelihood which, Snape reflects, is likely short-lived. Stressful for both Slayer and Watcher, he would guess. Perhaps that's why Pryce didn't like it?*

Yes, I know of the Council. A Watcher, hmmm? Interesting.

*Snape temporarily breaks off their conversation and thinks this through carefully as he moves a little bit away to vomit, returning when he's through. Watchers spend years studying demons-their habits, anatomy, physiology, motives-and is likely to be extremely helpful as a companion here in Hell. In fact, Snape has decided that his luck is changing for the better. Perhaps Pryce here knows something and has a goal in mind for them, instead of just wandering around.*

So, where do you think we should go from here? Do you have someplace in mind?

Well...

*Wesley does, in fact, have something in mind. Ever since he managed to pull himself away from the dreadful hauntings within the houses on 1, he's thought about where to go and what to do. It's out of the question to climb out of Hell; if it was that easy, no one would be down there. However, he does know that this Hell is just one of many hell dimensions, and where there's a way in to a dimension, there's a way out. It all hinges on finding the key- an incantation, an enchanted object, a portal- that allows travel out of Hell.*

Are you familiar with Dante's great work? If his writing is still relevant, then there's a city, something of a capital of Hell, if you will, located in Level 6. My intention is to reach it. I believe-

*he stops, wondering how far he should take their conversation. It's just possible that this gentleman might not want out of Hell. To be honest, Wesley's not entirely certain HE wants out, either. It's difficult to know what is waiting back among the living. For all he knows, returning to the living world might be just as painful as being in Hell. Still, he feels driven to do SOMETHING. And if he could somehow get out... if he could somehow still be useful in the "good fight," as his former colleagues phrased it...*

We might be able to leave. I believe there may be a way out of Hell.

Leave Hell?

*Snape is taken aback by the possibility. For a moment, he can't think beyond the mere words; they are almost meaningless. After a moment, however, he seems to grasp the concept. Of course, Pryce's idea of using magic might not pan out; Snape learned long ago that his magic was ineffectual. Still, perhaps if the magic stems from Hell itself...*

Do you think it is possible to do so?

*Snape's been here for some time; he hasn't really any concept of how long, but he has the sense that he's probably been dead for at least a few years. And eternity is a terribly long time to spend wandering the levels of Hell. It is, in his opinion, a pretty long shot...but it's the only shot he has.*

I can't really say, but it is reasonable to assume it's possible. It's certainly better than passively remaining here where we're no good to anyone. I've seen that ghosts, intangible as they are, can be very helpful to the living if they've a mind to. I'd rather help someone in some small way than be here where I can't do anything but feel sorry for myself.

*Wes seems to realize he's perhaps revealed a bit more of himself than he really intended, and stops suddenly, which is just as well, really. He's feeling very ill and it's all he can do to turn away before he retches violently. He sighs as he sees the unmistakeable flecks of blood. He runs his hand through his hair and is not surprised to find hanks of it in his fingers. A rash, faint but unmistakable, has broken across his flesh.*

Poisoning, I think,

*he intones, making conversation.*

Most likely chemical. Or radiation, possibly. What do you think?

*He seems to realize how morbid his little game might seem, and frowns.*

Sorry, it's something I began to pass the time. Guessing at what they're doing to us. Everyone seems to suffer it at the same time, have you noticed? Misery loves company, they say...

I hadn't really noticed.

*Snape thinks briefly about it, remembering that he had only been vaguely aware of the odd torments that came and went.*

I wasn't exactly paying attention to anyone else until you came along. I barely noticed some of them when they happened to me. They're not pleasant, but they're routine, and I take them as they...

*Snape turns away briefly to retch.*

...come.

*Wesley begins to respond, but is overcome by a coughing fit. He turns to look at Snape (after wiping his mouth clean of the nastiness) and can't help but gag, and he can only assume he looks every bit as ghastly.*

I think it's quite evident we'll be doing no traveling until this sickness has run its course. I must say, it IS effectively debilitating, isn't it?

*Snape leans his head wearily against their sheltering rock, sighing. He doesn't feel like moving anytime soon and is glad Wesley doesn't, either.*

Very. But then again, so have they all, in the end.

*He sighs again, this time because he's resigning himself to Hell's latest all-round torture.*

No wonder we've met no one else wandering around. It's difficult enough to break free of your level, let alone walk around like this.

Walking around isn't really an option on this level, anyway. Once we're feeling better, I think we should find a way out of here as quickly as possible. We'll undoubtedly be shocked a bit, but it's the only way to advance. We just need to stay together and not allow any of the shades here to drag us away with them. Staying low works to avoid the shades, but it slows us down.

*Snape runs his fingers through his hair, and thick strands of it come away in his fingers. He sighs resignedly again and lifts his hand to the wind, allowing the tempest to accept the offering into itself.*

I don't remember which way came from, either. Once you get caught up in the wind, it's difficult to keep a sense of direction. Perhaps crawling would be better? At least then we might be able to keep going in a more or less straight line, and we could orient ourselves to the various rock formations.

*Snape's coversation is actually quite broken; he pauses between each sentence to either vomit bloody bile or to catch his breath, or both.*

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