And my frozen pulse quickens as the dark plot thickens [Ros]

[Ophelia Fuilteach]

She landed several hours later in Hogsmeade, and stole some clothes from a washing line, ending up looking like a ragged pauper with her red hair wild about her face. She sat herself on the bridge that led out of Hogsmeade village, peering into the icy water that babbled along in a steady stream beneath her feet. She muttered to herself, and occasionally sang, but mostly she sat still, eyes closed, savouring the feel of moonlight and starshine on her skin like a Muggle sun bather after too long a winter. 

She knew she should move before someone saw her, caught her, forced her to return to Saint Mungo's ... but she had a plan in case that happened. She'd sooner take her chances in the river, and test the theory that vampires can't drown. She also knew that she had missed supper in the hospital, and she was starting to feel incredibly hungry ... 

[Roslyn Levere]

There's always the illusion of safety before the danger. Peace before the storm. Roslyn had allowed her emotions to get the better of her, sweeping her into waters deeper than she was prepared for. In all the chaos of her mind, she had all but forgotten about the one pebble which started this landslide. She would later mock herself for this. Since when did prey forget they were hunted?

Her reasons for going to the leaky had been to do what she had always sworn against. Drink her troubles away. The young witch was much brighter than this; better than this. Alcohol solved nothing. But she was willing to give herself a break in saying that everyone had those days where they would rather forget, than think about right and wrong. This night happened to be hers. But the witch found no comfort in the beverage.

Two glasses in, she had decided she was done wasting her time. Drinking wasn't for her. Roslyn had sought to return home, and perhaps stay hidden until she was put together again. She couldn't even find it in her to feel bad for brushing off Roger, who had tried for conversation. Her head and heart were far too heavey to even pretend everything was alright. But damned if she would let anyone see her fall apart...again.

Choosing to walk instead of floo to her home, Roslyn shook her head paying no attention to her surroundings.

[Ophelia Fuilteach]

Ophelia swayed slightly on the bridge, humming and half singing to herself.

"Oh love, it is foolish and green, my love ... How quickly we forget the sting, my love! What a pretty yet dangerous line, my love, what bitter yet delicious wine ..." She tripped easily over the words, and stopped dead in her tracks when she heard footsteps approaching.

She dropped off the edge of the bridge, and clung on with her fingertips, sniffing the air as delicately as a cat. Alcohol, magic, sunlight and moonlight - and blood, pulsing just beneath the skin, warming the witch as she walked home, unaware of the danger she had just put herself in.

Ophelia heaved herself back up onto the bridge as Roslyn passed, and bit her lower lip, trying to decide what to do. Her father and brother had always told her that the best thing to do to escape the guilt was to take the first creature to cross one's path. "Pay no heed to notions of morality or whether or not your intended victim deserves this in some way," her father had advised. "Do you think wizards fret about whether or not the creatures they grind up for potions ingredients deserve their fate? They do not. They create potions to prolong their lives in one way or another. Why should you be any different in prolonging your life by feeding from them?"

She shivered, her head beginning to ache with the conflicting thoughts.

Stepping forward, she caught the young witch's hand and whispered softly, "Help me?"

[Roslyn Levere]

It was like reaching for a glass seconds before it hit the floor. Too late to react. You could only watch as the fragile pieces shattered into grain. Roslyn hadn't heard a sound, certainly not even close to drunk; and so she could only turn with a surprised expression on her face; finding her hand incased in cold velvet, which sent chills up her spine. Like death's cloak had touched her.

It wasn't as if she hadn't been approached by strangers before. Often she gave gold to the homeless. Looking into the strange woman's eyes, Roslyn was reminded of a time she was walking. Many years ago. She had only been nine, when an old witch grasped her hand; her grip was fragile as her strength was gone. She hadn't had the chance to even see what the woman wanted, pulled away quickly by her gran. Now as an adult she was stricken with a sense of de ja vu.

This time was different. She could feel it the very second she looked into the woman's eyes, an odd shade. But what stood out most was how empty they were. Like she was beyond broken, but shattered. Roslyn could only stare in surprise, not yet grasping why the woman's skin was so cold. However she didn't think to draw her wand. The woman had asked for help... certainly she must only be lost. Perhaps beyond what Roslyn could help her with, but that didn't mean she couldn't try. "Help you? Are you lost miss?" Her tone was gentle, as genuine concern colored her words.

Merlin knew the woman was older than her, and so physically would seem capable of handling her own affairs. However Roslyn knew when one had a fragile mental state, it was best to handle them gently. The woman hadn't done anything to deserve harsh treatment anyhow.

[Ophelia Fuilteach]

Ophelia glanced over the woman's shoulder and into the village beyond. There were so many yellow lights, squares of warmth in the darkness. Which one of the lights belonged to her estranged husband? Was he was still up this late, or was he sound asleep? She gave a low sob. She hadn't meant to think of him now, not while her grip on reality was so tenuous.

"Lost?" she asked. "Lost, lost, lost! Lost everything, nothing left, not even her mind! Left it all behind, music, love, laughter, family ... do you know what that's like? She's so very, very lost, and so very, very cold ..."

She sniffled, and wrapped her arms around herself, almost like she was trying to warm herself against the cold, or maybe trying to remind herself of what it was like to be held.

"She needs help, yes, in dire need of it, but they couldn't help her, not with all their potions and cures and Healers. Kept her locked up for too long, far too long, and the lure of moonlight and starlight was too much to resist!"

She raised her head, her eyes brimming with tears, tinged almost red with blood. "Can you help her where they failed, pretty one, brave one? Such a tender hearted witch to offer your help ... Don't deserve such a fate..."

[Roslyn Levere]

As the woman fell apart in front of her eyes, Roslyn was heavily conflicted. Her earlier problems all but forgotten, as her heart ached for the strange woman. She was conflicted, because a part of her felt as if she should flee. There was something eerily familiar about this woman, and something deep inside of Roslyn felt haunted all over again. Yet a bigger part, and perhaps that part of her that tended to get her in trouble felt only compassion for the lady. Her earlier thoughts of the woman being shattered were all but confirmed with her broken speech. But there was a deep sadness. Roslyn may not be able to honestly say she knew what the woman felt, but everyone could relate to sorrow on some level.

"I couldn't imagine what that's like, Miss." Quietly, Roslyn watched as she wrapped her arms around herself. Strangely she reminded her of a child. Abandoned in a dark world who passed them over without so much as a glance. Removing her cloak, Roslyn offered it silently in case she were cold. It was chilly, and the clothes the woman wore would hardly protect her against the wind.

The more the woman talked, the more Roslyn began to understand at least part of this mystery. She had been in Saint Mungo's. Surely in this state they wouldn't have released her. Roslyn felt she should be alarmed, but she couldn't bring herself to alert anyone. As far as she knew they hadn't done the woman a bit of good. But then what could Roslyn possibly do for her?

Her heart literally broke as the woman spoke, her eyes rimmed... red. Roslyn's felt a trickle of fear. She knew for a fact that wasn't normal. However.. she reasoned with herself. The woman needed help, whoever or... whatever she was. Would it be any less cruel to deny her that simply because she was less than human? Abandonment is something Roslyn deeply related to. "I-I'm not quite sure what you want from me.." Whispering, Roslyn frowned at the woman's words. "I don't know what I can do. But I can try to help you..."

[Ophelia Fuilteach]

Ophelia reached out and caught the woman's arm, clutching to her like a drowning victim clinging to anything solid in a stormy sea.

"She can't leave me," she whispered. "They don't know she can't leave me. They don't hear her singing to me! But your soul knows something of sorrow, doesn't it? Maybe that's my gift to you - to take away your sorrow."

She sagged a little, giving another low sob. "That's always it, isn't it? That's all I have to offer the world - the chance of oblivion. The sweet silence of the sepulchre." She stepped closer, and wrapped her arms around Roslyn, tightly enough to stop her reaching for her wand.

She sang in breathy undertones beneath her breath, all but crooning to the now terrified woman in her arms. "The world is hard, the world is mean, it's hard to keep your conscience clean ..." She stopped singing abruptly, and said, "Give me a place to stay for the night, and I'll never trouble you again. I promise."

[Roslyn Levere]

Roslyn couldn't deny it. She was terrified, even more so with how abruptly the woman could switch moods. Any moment she could turn into a nightmare, and perhaps kill Roslyn. She knew this which is why it was almost illogical to even consider helping this woman. But Roslyn couldn't ignore her conscious. She couldn't help listening to the woman, hearing what she was saying beyond the insanity. If you listened closely enough there was sense even in rambling. She was lost. Incredibly sad. Only seeking shelter it would seem. And company. Roslyn could understand, in spite of her terror.

Taking a shaky breath, Roslyn paused to swallow down the knot of terror in her throat. "I can take you to the leaky cauldron. They have rooms you can stay in, yes? If you wear my cloak whoever you're running from won't recognize you. You'll be safe there, miss." That was as much as she could do for the woman. However sorry she felt for the woman, Roslyn wasn't anywhere foolish enough to invite her to her home. "You'll be safe, I'll go with you if you like?"

She planned on holding true to her word. But in a way Roslyn was also looking out for herself. The woman had a fragile mental state. She didn't desire to ruffle her feathers, and she couldn't just abandon her either.

[Ophelia Fuilteach]

"No, not the Leaky, they'll be looking for me!" she balked, eyes wide and alarmed. "Don't make me go back there, please ... It's so lonely, and I can't see the sky." The notion of returning to Saint Mungo's was terrifying to her. She had freedom now, freedom and madness and the night sky. That was better than confinement and loneliness and medication that did nothing but keep the madness at bay, right?

"I know where I can find shelter," she admitted. "But I'm afraid to go back there." The house she had once shared with her husband, so close to where she stood but she was petrified to go there. What if he wasn't there? What if he was? Would he send her back to the hospital and its tender mercies, or would he take pity on her?

She clutched Roslyn's hands and whispered, "I know your mind tells you to flee from me ... just please, walk with me to somewhere I can find shelter. It's so cold, and I'm so alone!"

[Roslyn Levere]

For a few seconds Roslyn gaped silently at the woman, feeling as if she were being pulled in multiple directions. How was it these things always happened to her? Why did it have to be her who came across someone so broken, and miserable when she couldn't do much at all to help the woman? Why was she forced to make a choice between putting her safety first, and doing what morally felt right?

For all the questions she had, Roslyn's mind was made up. She could practically hear Theo chastising her for being so gullible. For possibly putting herself in harms way. But blast it all, who could judge her? Roslyn doubted many people could outright deny those who came to them in need. Noone with a heart at least. Ignoring that little voice which warned she would regret this, Roslyn nodded in response to the woman.

"Okay... okay. Let's get you somewhere safe, then..."

[Ophelia Fuilteach]

"Thank you," Ophelia whispered, a faint smile curling her lips. She squeezed Roslyn's hand, and started walking towards the beautiful home she had once shared with her husband. As she approached, she imagined if she had a heartbeat it would be pounding out of her chest more and more with each step. She looked up at the place as she came closer, having found her way there with barely an upward glance. The lights were dim, there was dust on the windowsills ... he must not live here any more.

She gave a low sob, and clutched the fabric of her dress, just over her heart. "We were happy here," she whispered. "And I ruined it all."

There was no need to break the lock. She remembered where she had hidden a spare key - concealed cleverly in a bat box that she was certain was uninhabited. The key flaked with rust at the corners, but was still sound enough to let her indoors. The key twisted in the lock, tumblers that hadn't moved in months groaning into life, and the door creaked open with the slightest touch.

She hesitated at the threshold, not sure if she should walk in. Memories threatened, and the edges of her vision were blurring. It was a bad sign. She needed to hold on, hold on just long enough to curl up in the attic, safe from the sun's rays.

"Come in," she offered to Roslyn, reluctant to walk inside alone. "Let me at least get you something to drink as a thank you for walking with me."

[Roslyn Levere]

As she was lead to honestly Merlin knows where, Roslyn felt her stomach twist in knots. She couldn't put her finger on what, and she knew she couldn't really blame anyone for her current feelings as she'd allowed herself to be led; but there was something uneasy in the air. It was the feeling of dread, as if something bad was going to happen. With each step she took towards the woman's destination, the little voice in her head grew louder.

Turn back, Rose! Before it's too late! Roslyn had never ignored that voice before. It had saved her life on more than one occasion, but she was cursed with feeling too much. Caring too deeply. She couldn't abandon a lost soul. She strongly believed things happened for a reason, and there had to be a reason this woman had come to her of all people. Roslyn had already given her word anyhow, and they were well on their way to the woman's desired destination.

The site before her revealed quite a beautiful home. Aged, as is built in a different time frame than the current one; yet it was still lovely. Roslyn was curious and a bit more than concerned that the woman had traveled to the wrong place for a few moments. Her mental state wasn't quite up to par. But it didn't appear anyone had lived here for ages, with it's yard horribly overgrown.

The woman- merlin she hadn't even asked her name. However she did retrieve a key, which at least gave Roslyn the comfort that she hadn't wandered somewhere random. That wasn't to say her stomach was any less nervous. Now that she was on familiar grounds, Roslyn could only hope her friendly though slightly odd persona would hold up. "I really think I should be going now. You're home now miss-"

Roslyn's sentence trailed off as the woman gave a low sob. Expressing her regrets. "It doesn't seem so ruined to me... everything is still in tact?" She was only trying to console the woman, in spite of her fear, in spite of everything. It was in Roslyn's nature to heal. To care for others. To deny her of that would be to take a mermaid from water.

The woman officially invited her in, requesting to give her a beverage for walking her. Roslyn had to admit it was sweet, and again she was faced with a dilemma. "I really shouldn't.. I mean I-I should be heading home..." She didn't wish to offend the woman however, and her gran had always raised her to keep to her manners. "I suppose I could stay just a little while. To quench my thirst." Roslyn tried for a smile, sincerely hoping she didn't show her fear and doubt.

[Ophelia Fuilteach]

Ophelia barely heard Roslyn's protestations. She stepped inside the old house, and as soon as she heard the floorboards creak beneath her feet, memories started to flood her mind, a deluge of bittersweet recollections that threatened to carry her away like her namesake in the stream that took her life. Only she and her husband had been able to apparate in and out of this house, their protective wards preventing anyone else from doing so. She wondered briefly if those enchantments still stood, or if they had faded with time.

She started crying openly, blood tears pouring down her face, her back to Roslyn. "Intact, everything but my marriage! And what of him, what of his heart? Did I leave that intact, or did I damage it beyond repair? How could I be so cruel to him?"

She wiped her eyes on her hands, streaking them with blood, and started shaking. She had spent so long grieving for the life she once had that she had forgotten anger. Right now, in the hallway of her old home, she suddenly felt angry. No, angry wasn't the right word for it. Rage. That was it, rage, white hot and searing pulsing through her brain. Madness had taken everything from her, and her father had taken her from this loving home, sent her to that ghastly asylum and left her there for two years with nothing but the screams of the immortally insane! Didn't she have the right to feel angry for once.

She felt rather than heard a low growl starting in the base of her throat.

"We should have been happy here," she said, the misery vanished from her voice, her words now clipped and furious. She stuffed the key into a pocket on her dress, and whirled around. Her face was streaked with blood tears, as were her hands, and she reached out and hauled Roslyn over the threshold, slamming the door behind her. "I mustn't blame you," she said. "But someone must bear the brunt of my emotions."

[Roslyn Levere]

It was almost like watching a horror movie, on one of those muggle machines Roslyn had seen when she was young. A face so beautiful contorting into everything buried deep in her heart. Rage. It clawed it's way to the surface, ravaging porcelain skin; twisting it into a monster. Or maybe rage only brought to surface ugly truths. Maybe it only brought forth monsters that were already there, lurking in the very depths of your core.

She could relate to rage. She could relate to sadness. And it was heavy in the air as the women turned deaf ears to Roslyn. Roslyn knew the words she spoke slipped right over her like mist, as the woman's back turned to her. Absolutely meaningless. It was sad, for all the ways she could relate so easily to the woman. She didn't have to feel alone in the slightest. But there would be no happy ending; no unexpected bonding of friendship.

Roslyn could sense it before it started. The violent turn of events. The time of her own misery at hand. This was what she had feared. Familiar grounds meant the woman no longer had to play it safe. Briefly envisioning her blood staining the woman's hands much like her bloody tears, Roslyn had no chance to soothe the woman's burning fury as she was pulled with inhuman strength inside the home. There was not a drop of humanity in that face. It was like she was possessed by something else...

It was through her own strength of will she managed to stifle her scream. Roslyn tried to speak through trembling lips, hoping to distract the woman while she reached for her wand.. "You've held them in for too long, haven't you?" She kept her tone soft, in spite of the anger creeping through her veins. She had only tried to help the woman. Do a kind gesture, and now this. Yet her anger traveled deeper than that. Because Roslyn still managed to feel pity for the woman who had turned on her, like a snake dressed as a lost lamb. "I know what that's like. I know pain." Closing her eyes, Roslyn briefly traveled to the happiest memory she could find, determined to find a place of peace if this were to be her last hour. A silver mist crept forth from her wand, hidden beneath her cloak. She could only hope her patronus reached the person she seeked.

[Ophelia Fuilteach]

She started shaking, shaking like she was outside in subzero temperatures. The rage was all her alter ego needed to take hold of and get a grip on Ophelia's psyche.

Her entire demeanour and body language changed, replacing the miserable woman who had stood so forlornly on the bridge. She smirked at Roslyn, her expression unpleasant and promising some very unappealing things coming.

"Oh, you don't," she said softly. "You don't know pain. But you will. By the time I'm done with you, you will know pain intimately."

She smiled, baring fangs at Roslyn. "She calls me Sickness. What's your name, lost little lamb? I should let you know, she doesn't want to hurt you - but I do. Oh, how I want to hurt you!"

Without warning, she pounced on Roslyn, and forced her head back before biting into her throat, draining enough blood to knock the girl unconscious.

"Oh don't leave me just yet, little lamb! I have such delights planned for you."