Left foot...
...right foot.
People underestimated her a lot. She was too thin, she bounced from one job to another so much that she couldn't possibly be good at any one thing. Sometimes when she wrote things down they didn't come out like real words, they were missing pieces.
It was an exceptional stroke of luck that when Noah had gotten taken she'd been with him. At first they'd tried to separate them, but she'd been very stubborn. She was like that. Sneaking in spells in the short times when they were alone had been challenging, and by the time they'd managed to get away she'd been too -- tired. They'd been followed, she'd told Noah to go the other way ... and when she'd looked to make sure he'd taken off that way, she'd run too.
Those few seconds' delay had been enough for one of them to catch up with her, unfortunately. She'd shrieked something out before she could stop herself, a poorly controlled spell that had completely collapsed the garden wall she'd been trying to scramble over when she'd felt a hand close around her ankle.
That had hurt. The worst part of it was that he hadn't stopped chasing her then -- he'd kept following her, out into a woody area. It was like some awful horror movie, slip-sliding in mud (it would rain, but at least that made her sure they were probably near London) away from this man. She'd hid in a filthy badger hole.
She'd probably been hidden far longer than necessary, and she was fairly certain she'd fallen asleep (good thing she hadn't hit her head) when she finally crawled out of the muck, cautious. Lyssandra didn't look down at her legs, not wanting to think about the multitude of cuts and scrapes she'd have to deal with until she could whine about how much they hurt. not right now. Until then, it was .. left foot, right foot.
She squeezed her eyes shut tightly and announced her address to the floo, trying to concentrate.
Don'tsplinchdon'tsplinchdon'tsplinch
...right foot.
People underestimated her a lot. She was too thin, she bounced from one job to another so much that she couldn't possibly be good at any one thing. Sometimes when she wrote things down they didn't come out like real words, they were missing pieces.
It was an exceptional stroke of luck that when Noah had gotten taken she'd been with him. At first they'd tried to separate them, but she'd been very stubborn. She was like that. Sneaking in spells in the short times when they were alone had been challenging, and by the time they'd managed to get away she'd been too -- tired. They'd been followed, she'd told Noah to go the other way ... and when she'd looked to make sure he'd taken off that way, she'd run too.
Those few seconds' delay had been enough for one of them to catch up with her, unfortunately. She'd shrieked something out before she could stop herself, a poorly controlled spell that had completely collapsed the garden wall she'd been trying to scramble over when she'd felt a hand close around her ankle.
That had hurt. The worst part of it was that he hadn't stopped chasing her then -- he'd kept following her, out into a woody area. It was like some awful horror movie, slip-sliding in mud (it would rain, but at least that made her sure they were probably near London) away from this man. She'd hid in a filthy badger hole.
She'd probably been hidden far longer than necessary, and she was fairly certain she'd fallen asleep (good thing she hadn't hit her head) when she finally crawled out of the muck, cautious. Lyssandra didn't look down at her legs, not wanting to think about the multitude of cuts and scrapes she'd have to deal with until she could whine about how much they hurt. not right now. Until then, it was .. left foot, right foot.
She squeezed her eyes shut tightly and announced her address to the floo, trying to concentrate.
Don'tsplinchdon'tsplinchdon'tsplinch
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