(1939-01-02) Crack the Skye
Details for Crack the Skye
Summary: Tiberius has apparated with neither head nor heart in the game. The magic twists, leaving behind a pound of flesh and dropping the broken man in Hogsmeade, some distance away from Hoxton, his intended target.
Date: 1939-01-02
Location: Sow Street, Hogsmeade
Related: Maybe There's A Heart In There - Tiberius and Beryl exchange feelings, with a brief interruption by Hector Carrow as the Antagonist. Tiberius, in a fit of rage, Apparates…

The sky cracks. At least, that's what it sounds like. As if the words most ominous bolt of thunder had touched ground at the juncture of Sow Street, not too far from the Hog's Head. Tiberius apparates - The man standing when he first appears, although his eyes go from flashing with anger to /wide/ with suprise. He falls to his knees, mouth open in shock for a few seconds, before sound comes from it. And then, it's somewhere between a scream of pain and a roar of anguish, the man fighting to remain /kneeling/ in the street.
The cause becomes apparent. A vicious slice is missing from his shoulder, a good fist-sized hole inbetween arm and neck, distorting the graceful line his suit created. The suit has suffered the same damage - Although it also reveals the long, vicious tear that goes from the bottom of the wound, right down to the back of his waist. It doesn't start bleeding until he falls, but then it's immediate. Copious.
…It's a splinch. And not a small one.

It's hard to avoid the sound as loud as an apparition crack. Especially the apparition that just occured. What's even more difficoult to avoid is the sound of screaming that followed. Kaleb Gamp, the Canadian man, was only just leaving the Hog's Head tavern when these loud noises occured. Now, he may have have a couple of drinks, but he's still in control of his facilties. His eyes go wide, oh yes…this is going to be a doozy.
"Oh dear…that's not good. That's not good at all!" The Canadian runs, and he runs fast, toward Tiberius. "Shh. Shh now." He kneels down beside him and takes off his coat. With some effort, not even thinking about using his wand, he tears off the sleeve. "A splinch…" He says more to himself, pressing the sleeve against as much of the exposed flesh and muscle as possible. He's attempting to stop the bleeding. "It's going to be okay. I'm here to help." How is he going to help? For now, he'll attempt to stop the blood.

Shelley is a block or two away when Tiberius has his rather unfortunate apparation experience. She is just walking out of an apothecary when she hears the sound - the sound of /trouble/. Rather than run the distance, she takes a best guess at the source of the sound and makes a short hop - apparating from the front of the shop, to a short distance from the Hog's Head. She sees Kaleb going to help, and she hurries over as well.
"Don't suppose you're a Healer?" she asks, her eyes searching the area for signs of trouble as she crouches nearby. No one seems to have followed the vic- oh it's /him/. Well, he's not allowed to die until she and Cohen find answers!

The Splinched Man's hands are clenched into fists so tightly that his knuckles are white. Or maybe that's the sudden blood-loss. His screams subside after a few long seconds, eyes opening. Searching wildly. This isn't Hoxton. The pain overwhelms him again, even as someone finally arrives to his aid, trying to stem the flow of blood from the gaping wound. It's already drenched his shirt in red, and he seems to be in almost no state to try and help himself. His voice lifts in another scream, although… This one sounds almost like a name. He tries to shift, get a leg underneath him - Briefly rising, only to stumble and fall back to his knees.

"I wish I was a Healer. I've just seen enough blood not…to get…queasy. Occupational hazards and all." Is Kaleb's response to Shelley. As Tiberius attempts to move, he shakes his head. "Not yet you don't!" Taking a few breaths in, he thinks, "Splinching…splinching…how do you fix splinching…c'mon, head, think!" The Canadian murmurs to himself as he continues to attempt to stop the bleeding with his already soaked jacket sleeve. "Why didn't I pay more attention in school?!"

"Ditany," Shelley answers promptly. "Don't know how much good it'll do on a case this nasty, but they'll have it at the apothecary. If we get him there - well. The shopkeep might know more than we do." And they can send someone to St. Mungos to fetch a proper healer.
She gives a flick of her wand, then adds, "Secure that as tightly as you can, and I'll carry him." He won't weight nearly as much, now.

The Splinched Man wrenches his shoulder away from Kaleb, as if he could just throw off the pain and carry on. He's /Tiberius/ /Tripe/, damnit. He's been hurt before. Injured. This is /nothing/. The monologue in his head is louder than the frankly distracting cries of pain - And he tries to force himself to his feet again. Being lighter, perhaps, might have made it easier, but the wound is still /far/ too much to carry. He collapses again, barely catching himself with one arm, he all-but falls upon his face. His hand forms a fist again, and tries to press himself back up… Which is suprisingly easier, thanks to Shelley.
The pain has probably made him more than a little delusional.

"Dittany! Now there's a miracle plant. You're good." Kaleb nods to Shelley, though his attention is mostly on Mr. Splinchy. "You're not getting away that easy." He places a hand on the man's non-splinched shoulder beforehe quickly moves to tie the his nor ripped, and very bloodied, jacket sleeve tightly around part of the splinch, hoping to cut of at least SOME of the circulation. Which he is successful in doing. With that, he picks up the rest of his jacket with his now bloodied hands. Looping an arm through Tiberius' weakened arm, he says, "You're coming with the two of us, and we're going to get you help. Help that you need immediately, or you may not survive. We want to help you." And Kaleb wants to help not just because he needs Tiberius for information, but because it's the right thing to do! Or something.

Wait - we're supposed to do things because it's right and good? Damn.
"Come on, Mister Tripe," Shelley agrees, taking the man's opposite side, and trying to be mindful of his injuries. With him pinned between them, and only weighing a few dozen pounds, it should be easy enough to get him stumbling to the apothecary shop. "I should really just carry the stuff on me," she adds in a quiet mutter under her breath.

Tiberius seems to be under some kind of control now. Well, no. He's still in intense pain, but the bleeding seems to ahve stopped, and his attempts to move have been stopped by two people who have managed to get him to his feet - And he seems to be capable of putting one foot infront of the other, as stumbling and awkward as it might be. A glance at Shelley - Auburn hair. A shuddering, slow inhale, as Tiberius manages to say something that isn't a wordless scream of pain. "B… Beryl…. I'm so sorry…." He gasps, a mis-step causing him to slip and lean heavily on Kaleb.

"Tripe? Good name. Strong name." Kaleb responds to what Shelley calls the man between them. "I've heard of one or two people with the name." Which might be true, might not. He is a pure-blood though. And pure-bloods tend to somewhat know other pure-blood names. Sometimes. "Beryl? Don't worry. You'll get to tell this Beryl that you're sorry in no time!" Kaleb says softly. When Tiberius slips, leanning into him, Kaleb barely lets out indication that he minds. "Steady there, fella." He says softly, being as much of a support as is needed. "We'll get ya right as rain in no time!"

Never put your wand away - not when there could be danger. Or babbling Canadians who need silencing. "Quietus," Shelley mumbles softly, with a flick of her wand, and the volume of Kaleb's rambling suddenly decreases quiet dramatically - right after, "Don't worry. You'll-" She tries to shoot the poor man an apologetic look - in the hopes that Tiberius was so confounded by his current predicament that he won't notice.
The look doesn't last long, though, as she puts on a cooler expression. "That's not good enough, Tripe. Sorry for /what/? I want to hear you /say/ it." Never pass up a chance to gather intell.
But she does keep propelling him towards the apothecary.

Tiberius manages to continue to walk, his eyes staying on Shelley. Although it's not her. It's the beautiful redhead that he'd left in London, who was no doubt currently huntin him down with her wand in hand. "'m sorry.." His sentence is interrupted by a soft grunt of pain, a slow, shuddering breath. "Should've… Shouldn't have been so proud…" It's probably nothing relevant to Shelley, anyway. Or at least, not what she /wants/ to know. Another step, another stumble, and he screams out again.

It doesn't take long for Kaleb to notice that his voice is a bit too quiet. His wand is taken out and he quickly performs the counter to Quietus and slips his wand back without much fuss. A look is shot to Shelley, but his attention quickly turns back to Tiberius. "It's okay." He gently steadies Tiberius. "It's going to be just fine. We're going to take this one step at a time. And we don't want you to spend too much energy. We just want to ensure you make through it all." He assures the man in a gentle voice. "Isn't that right, ma'am?" He directs the question the Shelley, giving her another pointed look.
Kaleb gives you a cookie.

That was a less than useful response. Shelley is /deeply/ disappointed. "Oh, of /course/ we'll take care of Tripe," she agrees. Let the Canadians be passive aggressive - she'll go for subtly threatening. "But yes, you should have known better," she adds towards Tripe. "I expect more from you. And next time…?"

Tiberius seems to find Kaleb FAR more positive than Beryl - Shelley - Was being. Her words are ignored. He has something more important to say. "Von Nazcht." He states. A sudden strength, as he looks to Beryl. "H… How bad is it?" He's at least aware that he's injured. "I have to get back… I /have/ to get back."

"Von Nazcht?" Kaleb plays with the words. "Sounds…foreign. I can't place it. Mind you, I've more a mind for animals." He shakes his head. Focus on the task at hand. "Let's just say that it won't be so bad once we've got ya fixed up, okay? Sound good to you?" He says with a smile. "We'll get you back. Yes, we will. Just as soon as we get you patched up. We got a deal there, Mr. Tripe?"

It's a challenge - trying to answer questions in a way that an unknown, possibly (probably?) dark witch would. "It's bad, you idiot. But we can't have you dying just yet, now can we? I'm not through with you." It's always nice when you can just tell the truth.
"There's the apothecary there. We'll get what we need."

"F… Fuck." Tiberius gasps, gripping Shelley's shoulder unnaturally tightly. "… You… You know where they are… Trade them, Beryl." Her tries to keep his feet, but it's /barely/ possible in his current state. "Give them to the aurors… Take the bounty.. Fuck the fee… S'only going to betray us…" He's spilling an awful lot of absolute nothing to her.

"Let's get into the apothecary and worry about who gives what to whom after that, eh?" Kaleb says softly. He throws a confused look at Shelley. Is she actually this Beryl person? He wouldn't know, not being familiar with either person. He does, however, lead them into the store, opening the door to allow them to enter.

"Oh, I think now is a perfect time to worry about it," Shelley mutters under her breath - but loud enough for Tiberius to hear. It may be nothing - but it is absolutely /fascinating/ nothing. Still - on the list of juicy crimes, turning people /over/ to the aurors is a strange choice.

"But will they betray us before we've gotten our fair pay, is the question." The apothecary is only a few doors down, now.

Tiberius coughs loudly, wrenching his head. He gets a clearer look at Shelley - Or at least, he thinks he does. Beryl looks… Different. "M… Ma…" The stress seems a bit much, and the man collapses rather suddenly, blacking out for several long seconds. Looks like he's being dragged to the door.

"Well, that's not good. We need to get him help before he can't be helped any longer!" Kaleb says, shooting a glance to Shelley. "At least this isn't like that time I had to deal with an unconcious re'em. Boy, those things are heavy and not particularly easy heal!" He chuckles and shakes his head. "That re'em was sure happy when it woke up and wasn't hurting any more, though. As I'm sure this gentleman will feel the same."

"Oh, I'm sure he would," Shelley agrees, her steps hurrying. That may be all she gets out of him tonight - that may be all she gets out of him /ever/, if they aren't quick about this. "Sorry about the quieting charm," she adds in a wry voice. Just a few yards more, carrying the man awkwardly. "Hoy!" she calls loudly. "Need some help! Get some dittany, damnit!"

"Di…. Dittany?" Tiberius stirs a little, his voice slurred with pain. "Fu.. Fuck do you want Dittany for? Veritaserum?" His eyes widen, the man snapping into alert. "B… you're no… PREWETT!" The anger in his voice is sudden. Fierce. Shelley has his good arm, and that's the one he uses - The corded muscles that tense underneath the jacket, seizing her shoulder in a vicious grip and firmly pushing her away from him, leaning his injured side against Kaleb with a soft cry of pain. The man near-collapses again, barely keeping his feet, his eyes lidded as he /glares/ at Shelley.

"Hey now!" Kaleb allows the man to fall into him. No rolling of eyes here, just a helpful Canadian! "We're not trying to use a truth serum on you!" He lets Tiberius calm down slightly. "The ditanny is to help with your wounds. You had an splinching accident when you apparated." He says in a calm voice. "We just want to get you help."

Shelley allows herself to be shoved off, amusement flickering in her features, but she struggles to squealch it. "He speaks correctly, Mister Tripe. Now - we are close to the apothecary. If we can get some dittany on your wounds, we might prevent you from bleeding out." She tries to move closer to the man, to take his arm again - but if he struggles, she'll shrug and move ahead to the apothecary instead.

Tiberius straightens, slowly. It's obvious how much it hurts. His good arm has it's fist curled up, not offered to Shelley. "You can keep your help, /Prewett/… And your questions… to yourself." It's said through gritted teeth. He's trying to think of what he just told 'Beryl'. Fuck…. Fuck, fuckity fuck fuck fuck. "Mister…" He turns to Kaleb, a strained attempt at a smile. "T… Thank you, good sir. If you're alright, I'll only need your support."

"I'm merely here as a support. I'm as right as rain." Kaleb nods, smiling softly. "Come on, let's get ya to the apothecary." He looks to Shelley and offers a little shrug, nodding his head slightly in the direction of the apothecary, as if to say, 'you might as well still come along just in case'. Though she was probably planning on it anyway.

Shelley was off ahead of them, as soon as Tiberius snubbed her help - pulling open the door to the shop. "Are ya deaf, I said we need-!" she starts to roar, only to see the shop keeper hurrying towards her with some supplies. "Oh. Good. He's splinched."

Tiberius walks, leaning heavily on Kaleb, but at least he's under his own steam now. And he's /glaring/ at Shelley. What the hell did he tell her? He remembers Von Nazcht? But did he tell her about Hoxton? Mungos? He has to find out…

"Oh, thank the thestrals!" Kaleb says softly. There's probably not many a wizard or witch that one could find that would utter such a strange phrase such as thanking thestrals, but Kaleb is an unusual fellow. "It looks like you'll be fixed up in no time, my good man! No time at all!"

The shopkeep sets his tray at a cleared table, while nodding to Shelley. "Well. Get him inside."

She opens the door for Kaleb and Tiberius as the man continues, "I sent Healer Grackle to his painting at St. Mungos to get some help for us - they shouldn't be long!"

Tiberius is moving so slowly, in clear agony. He's a bloodsoaked mess, drawn and almost haggard looking in what was once a /very/ spiffy suit. "T… Thank you." He mutters, sagging a little as he climbs through the door. He bites his lower lip, grasping the frame with one hand and pulling himself through. He's still glaring at Shelley.

Shelley smiles.

"You'll be in good hands, I'm sure." Kaleb says in a soft, kind voice. "Way I see it, you got off easy anyhow. You don't have to walk back to a farm full of creatures in blood soaked cloathing." He chuckles. "I hope none of them particularly like rare meat. Or are hungry, I should say." He chuckles. Perhaps not the most appropriate joke. But sometimes you need to make a joke to help people through…right?

"Up on the table with him," the apothecary shopkeep commands. "Now - this is going to sting like hell, so brace yourself."

Shelley closes the door to the shop - moving closer, and helping Tiberius up onto the table if it's needed - whether he likes it or not.

Tiberius makes it to the table, forcing a chuckle out for Kaleb's joke, and then trying to get onto the table. Unfortunately, he struggles far more than he should, and Shelley's help is /needed/ to him onto the table, assisting him to lie down. Soft grunts of pain with each little movement.

Assisting in getting Tiberius onto the table as well, Kaleb says, "Don't worry, young man. I'm sure you're in excellent hands." He looks about the apothecary for a moment. "You know, I remember back when I was in school, learning to apparate. I splinched myself something awful. Won't go into the details, but let me tell ya, compared to how I looked…you look like royalty." He smiles kindly. "You'll be fine."

"Alright. Well - here goes," the shopkeep remarks, before unceremoniously dripping the herbal liquid into the open wound running down Tiberius' body. It's exactly like pouring lemon juice all over a wound - only quite possibly worse.

Even Shelley winces sympathetically.

Tiberius grits his teeth, aware that what he's about to experience is going to be incredibly unpleasant. He tenses, laying on his front - his good hand grasping the edge of the table, his other finding enough strength to grasp his pants… When the herbal liquid touches him, his voice lifts in a /scream/ of agony, grip tightening until it's white knuckled.

Splinching. It's an unpleasant experience, of course.

Kaleb winces, eyeing Tiberius, the liquid, the shopkeeper, and Shelley all in turn. He shakes his head and sighs. No, this is certainly not pleasant. Least of all, of course, for Tiberius. But hearing him in pain, it's not quite the experience that Kaleb was looking to find when he set out for a drink this evening. No, not what he was expecting at all!

"There. That should be enough," the shopkeeper responds, putting the stopper into the cap. "You know it isn't cheap," he directs towards Shelley.

"You'll be reimbursed," she promises. "Do you have anything to reduce the pain?" See? She's not /completely/ heartless.

"Hrm. I can give him something - yes. It will only dull the edge. I don't want to interfere too much with the healers' work."

Tiberius' scream dies away, leaving the man gasping for breath a little bit. "… Merlin, tell me it's done…" He manages, "Gods… I'll pay, and gladly…" He slowly releases the edge of the table, allowing his cheek to ride the table surface as he reaches into his pocket. A handful of coins are emptied out onto the table,

"You shouldn't be worry about that just yet, my good man. You need to recover!" Kaleb nods to Tiberius. Of course, the apothecary shopkeeper does need to be paid one way or another. "Well um…as much as I'd like to stay, I'm afraid I'd be more in the way than of any help. If, however, I am needed, the name's Kaleb Gamp. I can be found at the Fawley Farm nearby." He smiles. "Good evening." He pointedly looks at Tiberius and says, "I hope your recovery is swift!"

The shopkeep seems well satisfied when the money appears - and he prepared a drought for Tiberius. "Drink this," he insists, helping the man to turn over, and sit up if necessary. Shelley is nearby to help, as needed.

"Shelley Prewett," the auror offers to Kaleb, and amused quirk at the corners of her lips.

The shopkeep seems well satisfied when the money appears - and he prepared a drought for Tiberius. "Drink this," he insists, helping the man to turn over, and sit up if necessary. Shelley is nearby to help, as needed.

"Shelley Prewett," the auror offers to Kaleb, and amused quirk at the corners of her lips.

"Kaleb… I'll remember you." Tiberius promises, grunting in pain as he's rolled over onto his back, his coin allowed to stay where it falls. There's /far/ too much there, obviously, but he doesn't seem to care. Shelley is needed to help him sit up, with a scowl. "Whatever you heard, Shelley…" Tiberius tries to cover his ass, taking the draught in one hand. "Was out of context." A frown, as he immediately knocks back the potion.

"Completely and utterly," Shelley agrees. "No context given whatsoever. Care to add any?" Not while he's drinking preferably.

"Not until I know what I said." Tiberius mutters, putting the draught down. The pain is somewhere near a dull roar, now, and it's something that he can struggle with conversation through. "'N why you were playing at being /her/."

"I have an utterly inappropriate sense of humor. Most aurors do. We have to find amusement in the darkest places to get through our days," Shelley remarks, folding her arms casually over her chest. "You were telling me how beautiful my skin looked," no he wasn't. "Just who is this Beryl, hmmm?"

Oh, she does. He already misses it. The guilt her felt at her final expression, when he'd /tried/ to hurt her feelings. Tiberius shakes his head slowly. "Like I'd tell her that." He lies, "And I'd be even less of a like to tell you, Prewett. Mayhaps you're better forgetting what it was I said, whatever it was."

"Mayhaps," Shelley agrees. "Was all just a bit of dark-spirited fun. But now you're here, and back to your senses." There's a racket outside - hooves on cobblestones, the creaking of wooden wheels. "And it seems your ride has arrived."

Tiberius frowns. Shelley… Will need questioning later. For now, he has to tend to his wounds. He hasn't pieced together the most ominous part of the story, though. What his employer will make of the bloodstains… Or Beryl. He pushes himself off the table, trying to catch himself - And falls heavily onto his knees, his good arm coming to keep him from the ground. He struggles up again on his own, grasping…

Shelley moves forward, to take the man's elbow and help him to his feet. Once he's up, she takes a half step back, releasing him. "You shouldn't be walking under your own power," she advises him.

And then the door opens, trauma healers stepping through - to repeat the exact same words.


Tiberius seems to shrug off Shelley's hand. The woman still makes him so uncomfortable his skin scrawls. "I'll speak to you later, Shelley." He mutters, leaving the store… staggering heavily, but walking.

Healers flank him - helping him into the waiting ambulance carriage - with its flying horses, and invisibility charm. Shelley watches him go.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License