dissidents - r.a.b.

ch.1 - in a perdicacment

They were now nearing the shore and Paige decided to immobilize him just in case. No way in hell is she going to be killed by a kid she saved. An unbidden thought crossed her mind, would she be able to actually end his life if he turned out to be hostile? She never killed before and she didn't know if she would freeze or fire the spell in self defense. She hoped she wouldn't find out today.

Regulus found himself in a predicament. Well, that and in pain. Which was unexpected, because by all means, he planned to be dead. Is that why he's so unbothered? He felt free, like a weight fell off his shoulders. The despair and despondent gloom that followed him around like a cloud the last few weeks, actually months, seemed to have vanished.

All around him there was only darkness. Was this the afterlife? He seems to have kept his consciousness, though his mind feels like a fog, barely together and sluggish. Is he only a soul now? But he feels his body and the pain he's in. Is that an illusion? He has a lot of questions, and very few answers at the moment. If he were to waver a guess he would say that this is the part where Mother Magik would lead his soul to eternal rest.

With his tendency to ponder on everything and anything Regulus' thoughts inevitably lead him to the life he led, the life he believes to have ended.

All in all the only thing he can say is good riddance. He got dealt a particular hand and he did what he could. Did he do the most? No, of course not, the list of things he could have and should have done is nearly endless, but it's human nature to not want to dwell on uncomfortable things. Yet, it appears to be the only thing Regulus could think about. His happy memories were tainted by the knowledge of what his friends have become, family memories tainted by the knowledge of what they did. A childhood of luxury and indoctrination, a school life of learning and censorship. The feeling of regret was creeping up and growing stronger by the minute, and it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He cheerfully didn't acknowledge the fact that he appeared to be happy to die. Man, he really was just such a cheerful person really. Not that anyone would think that, what with his cold demeanor and act befitting that of a son of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. A person like that would never be glad for their life to have come to an end, no sir, they would be glad to serve the family and bring them honor, no matter what that entails.

The adrenaline that fueled his mind thanks to the surprise at the feeling of consciousness began to subside, his mind slowing down even more. The transcendent feeling of this is the end, you're dead was suffocating as much as it was freeing and his very being refused to acknowledge its own apparent death. He vaguely wondered how long he'll float in this limbo, with only his thoughts for company, if it will be forever, an eternity with only his thoughts slowly driving him mad (madder than he already was).

His musings were thankfully cut short by the pain he noted earlier, now reappearing more intensely. Now that he thinks about it, feeling his body would make sense, but pain? Well, he supposed Mother Magik deemed him unworthy of comfort even in death. Or scenery for that matter, he thought, looking intently at the darkness around him, trying to find some clues regarding the state of his body.

After pondering on it for a while Regulus hypothesised that he wasn't in fact dead, just very close to it. He felt his body, yet there was a disconnect, a feeling of wrongness, like he wasn't meant to be connected to it.

Seeing as there's nothing to lose, he decided to try and reach for his magic. Since magic isn't really a physical thing, only a physical manifestation of a soul's wil,l his current status of being only a consciousness shouldn't affect his ability to call upon it. Ignoring the pain that apparently his body was in he steadied himself and reached.

His magical core was as expected damaged from his premortem escapades and slightly depleted. As he tried to reach for it he was surprised to note that it avoided him. Despite the taint of muggle influence he himself was still an educated wizard, meaning he knew the basic principles of magic. It was a gift from Mother Magik, an entity separate from oneself yet so alike that it was usually indistinguishable.

Since it's primary goal was to aid wizards and witches and magical beings there are multiple accounts of accidental magic when a wielder of it is in mortal danger, or in other words their magic itself protecting them. It seemed like Regulus' magic didn't like him going on what was essentially a suicide mission and didn't trust him fully. A slightly insulting, but understandable notion, he thought.

Nevertheless he reached for it again, more commanding this time and succeeding in his original task. As soon as he attempted to actually use the magic though, another pain joined the preexisting one. This one could be felt on a purely spiritual level, a restraint on his magic, preventing movement. It was a warning and it receded the moment he stopped trying to utilise his magic.

If he had a body, his brow would have furrowed. Mother Magik separating him from magic didn't make a lot of sense. Although he couldn't think perfectly clearly, the strange agony his body tried to communicate it was in clouding it, he tried his best to identify the issue. It was some sort of barrier, a block between him and his magic. The only thing that could affect magic in that way is also magic, so it's either the doing of Mother Magik or some nasty trap that was in the cave.

The last thought he had before he suddenly completely blacked out was 'I really hope it's the former.'