2009, the first year of the takeover. All early LR posts from the first year of the takeover are here.
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by: Former Members
#5394
Evie closed her eyes and let him do whatever. Wasn't like there was anything he could do to her that he hadn't done already unless he was some psychotic murderer that was waiting for her to fall asleep so he could drag her to a basement or something. But, that was unlikely...she hoped. Sleep was not far away for her even if that was stupid, she should get her dress, put it on if it wasnt dry yet and just go back to her hotel room but, nope she was to tired.
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by: Casey Winslow
#5395
The man simply laid there next to her with his hand on his shoulder for a while, looking at her every one in a while. He could tell she was relaxed. It didn't take a genius to see that, and given his history with her, if he had no idea when she was relaxed or not, he'd be pretty unobservant. He wondered how long he could get her to stay here. He wondered if she'd sleep here or if she'd still be here in the morning when he woke. Would she sneak off in the dark of the night? or would she wake in the morning, use his shower, get dressed, and leave. He knew this was a one night stand in all reality. She didn't know she was his wife or that she should be staying with him indefinitely. But obviously he still somehow managed to make her feel comfortable around him.

Subconsciously, his fingers began to stroke her shoulder, moving however they saw fit lightly across her smooth skin. His eyes went to the faded scar just along her neck, wondering what that man had told her it was from--probably him, Casey. His finger went out to it, nevertheless, running along it, knowing well the weird sensation around those that were on his chest when he wasn't using a polyjuice. He remembered when she had received the scars. She'd been taken to Mungo's, and those days had been long, spent busying himself with his studies so he didn't have time to think of Evie, fighting for her life while he was there at Hogwarts, unable to help her.

He recalled thinking nothing could be worse than that. Well, many things were, and he had discovered that over time, but this took the cake. She had no clue about anything they had shared and gone through together. Perhaps it was just as well, if she was happy. At least she wouldn't have to deal with fighting Death Eaters anymore. She'd be on their side, not a threat because of this memory removal. But she obviously wasn't happy. Why else would she be here in bed with him instead of in bed with her "husband"? He had to find some way to get her out; he just needed time to figure it out, and time was of the essence. He didn't know if it was possible for him to have time, but he had to hope even when hope didn't come so naturally after everything that comprised his life's story. He would have her back. He had to--for his own sake and Julian's.
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by: Former Members
#5396
Evie made a slight sound when his fingers started stroking her but she stayed how she was, enjoying the feeling and letting herself slip more and more into a relaxed state where she could fall asleep. She could vaugely feel Kevin tracing over her scars. At least he didn't ask about them, it wasn't something she really wanted to explain to a person but, she got lucky that they weren't that noticeable unless you were well.....sleeping with her and getting to know her body intimately.
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by: Casey Winslow
#5397
Casey smiled gently as he watched his wife relax, recognizing the look on her face and the familiar sound. It had only been a month and a half, and he already missed waking up beside her, spending the day carelessly with her, and perhaps, just perhaps he would get to do at least one of those with her. He knew expecting both was asking far too much and setting himself up for disappointed, but he hoped she'd stay--at least for breakfast. He knew that wasn't how a one night stand was supposed to work, but....Merlin, none of this was fair. He shouldn't have slept with her, not now, but it had felt so right. By all means he should sleep right now. His eyes were heavy, but he was fighting it, wanting to just drink her in for as long as he could, knowing it could very well be the last time he laid eyes on her. If that bastard found out....
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by: Former Members
#5398
Evie liked sleeping, because when you were asleep everything was normal and perfect and nothing could hurt you in your own little dream world. It was a place where a person could retreat from the hardships of every day life and just enjoy something so off the wall as a lake of pumpkin juice or gum drop trees or some nonsense like that.

Swirling fog shrouded the view, making it impossible to see but a handful of yards before her. She squinted attempting to see through it. Where was she? None of it was familiar. Dead trees seemed scattered throughout, still as the night that masked them. A figure was in the distance, his head lowered as though in prayer. The woman stepped forward blindly, crying out as she stumbled over something hard. The pain seemed to shoot from her bare toe, clear to her hands as they braced her, and she pushed herself to her knees, seeing what she’d tripped over before her. She pulled down her filthy white tattered dress (Why was it so soiled?) and brushed her wild, raven hair behind her ears so she could peer at the stone before her as she rested her hands on her knees. She gasped at what she saw, glancing over to the figure several yards away. The stranger hadn’t even moved an inch. "Evelyn and Thomas Price: beloved mother and father."

She blinked as she stared at the foreign gravestone, reaching out a callused fingertip to trace over the engraved letters that had once been prominent against the stone surface, which was now weathered with moss filling every crack and crevice. The moist material gave easily beneath the weight of her fingertip. She thought she remembered them. It was hazy, but it was clearer than the rest. Always gone, always leaving her alone with a nanny and someone else, but whom? The people had been kind, but they had betrayed her in the end. Their faces came with Casey’s. Tears came to her mind as she grasped the material of her thin dress. Her parents hadn’t even seen it coming.

After a handful of minutes, she had composed herself, and she pushed herself up, yelping as a crow swooped low before her, landing on a higher gravestone. The black bird peered menacingly down at her, its head hunched as its wings were held high yet close to its body as though it was crouched, ready to spring from its tentative perch and to her face at any moment. "Ca-caw!" it called, its beady eyes trained on her, unfazed by her own return glance. Gradually lowering her hand from her racing heart, Evie looked away, peering at the ground as she found her way to the main path so she wouldn’t fall again. The old cemetery might have been beautiful at one time, but now, in the midst of the dreary fog, it seemed something to be feared. The foreboding aura was enough to make the woman feel tense as she cautiously crept through it, her hands clenching in fists unbeknownst to her.

It took what felt like forever until she reached the row where the mysterious stranger loomed, and she paused, feeling for any sign of her wand, but she could find none. It was nowhere on her person, and she began to panic. However, despite her urgings against it, her feet carried her with a mind of their own towards the man, towards the graves. She tried to slow her step, peering at the gravestones as she passed them, but no matter what she tried, she was still moving towards the figure. However, she forced her face to remain blank despite the racing heart she was certain the man could hear now. She shivered as she looked at him, rubbing her arms as she hugged them to her body; the air seemed somehow colder here in her spot before the obscure stranger. She looked away, trying to ignore how eerie his lack of movement was. It was almost inhuman, the rigidity of his body, not even rocking as most people’s would with prolonged attempts at remaining still.

What was he looking at? What was he mourning? Was he but a memory, a ghost of things long past? Her eyes grew transfixed as she looked first at the stone the man stood before. "Casey Winslow: beloved husband and father" was carved on the simple stone. She looked up at the man in confusion as though he would have the answers, but though her lips formed the question, no sound escaped. Her eyes moved to the one farthest from her on the other side of Casey’s. "Julian Winslow: hope there is." And then her eyes moved to the one to the right of Casey's grave. "Lydia Winslow: beloved daughter, a life lost too soon." Who were these two? Children? A brother and sister of his?

Her hazel eyes glanced upward again, looking at the figure. "Who?"

The man made no motion and gave no sign of who it was that he was. Had she not asked the right question? Perhaps he didn’t know. But why was he here, then? Why did he stand here at Casey’s grave so faithfully? It was then that her eyes made it to his right hand from which hung a chef’s knife. Blood stained it, she noted as the moonlight seemed to break through the thinning fog. Her brows furrowed, noticing the freshly dug dirt before the graves. Her eyes flashed upward at the figure, and her heart started racing once again. "Who…who are you?" she queried in a hesitant voice that even she could barely hear. "Who are you?" she repeated louder than before when she received no response, and for a second, as the man glanced up, she thought she recognized him, the blue eyes that met her own, but just as quickly, his face was obscured by darkness as the moon once again hid behind a cloud.

"Death"—her one reply.



This was not one of those times. Evie's dreams have been very vivid ever since Trevor had taken her back and she didn't understand why but she didn't care to. All she wanted was for them to stop. She shifted in her sleep and clutched at her pillow before it was too much and she sat up and looked around the unfamilar bed room, trying to remember where she was. When it registered she looked at the figure next to her, hoping that he was still asleep.
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by: Casey Winslow
#5399
For Casey, falling asleep had been a task not quite as quickly achieved. At first, he had been mesmerized by the sight of her unclothed body, so still and quiet beside his. The way the bits of moonlight that flashed through the break between the curtains and worn spots in the nearly sheer material accentuated certain parts of her that normally would not have been uncovered and highlighted the contours of her face had been overwhelming, and he had spent some time watching, memorizing how she looked. His lids had grown heavy over his eyes as time had passed, and after taking a sip of polyjuice to be safe, he had given in and laid down to rest his eyes. He had determined to himself he wouldn't fall asleep, but his body had had other plans. Between the alcohol in his system and the earlier activities, it had been a fight inevitably lost from the start.

As it was, he was completely oblivious to her inner turmoil as she had her dream and the hints it laid that something wasn't right, and when she woke and sat up, he was still out, his own sleep filled with a dream he wasn't likely to remember come morning. He had meant to stay awake, to somehow lure her into a feeling of safety and confidence around him so she would return to him so he could tell her, but from the looks of things, that wasn't meant to be. Fate, it seemed, had other plans.
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