[Completed]
An alchemist who poisoned himself, an assassin who stabbed his own heart, an arsonist who burned herself, and a hero who couldn't defeat his inner monster.
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( A re-enact of Hades...
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Helios was generous that afternoon, scorching bright enough to grace Scotland's High Land with heat. Cyan eyes screwed shut as he darted his gaze away to the horizon, the sunlight were achromatic, yet it appeared akin to sea of glitter when it caressed the Black lake's skin. It was empty when Martin surveyed their quick escapade ground.
Gemma slumped herself to the blond, he sat on the grass leaning to a log. She rested her head on his lap as she closed her eyes feeling the sun hit her hair. The blonde paused for a second, eyes onto the lake. It was empty as he raised his hand to touch her hair. And she did not complain to his touch.
"I'm so tired." she mumbled, placing her hand over her forehead to hide her eyes from the sun. Peeking underneath it, she caught Martin's gentle gaze at the lake. She yawned, feeling her spine sore since the previous evening. "I need sleep."
"Must be from your thing with Black." assumed Martin, he sighed looking down to the girl. He caug gt the sight of the girl's freckles under her eyes, and her nose faintly wriggle from heat irritation. He held back his chuckle. "Why do you do that, Gem?"
"Do what, McKinnon?"
"You're terrified of it," Martin began as silence fell between them, "I remember the first time you were staying in my house you were crying when you saw a piano. Why push yourself to learn it?"
Gemma shot her eyes open, facing him, "It's never good to always live in fear, Marty." replied the Irish witch, curving her lips to a frown. It wasn't a lie, she told herself, part of the reason as to why she could tolerate Black's arrogant arse was she wanted to be able to defeat her fear. "I have to face it one way or another, and maybe the fear and I could be best of friends."
She closed her eyes again, thought her mind was swerving to her irritation around how many times Regulus Black noted why her hands were trembling around the harmless instrument. Luckily, a nervous aliby worked, before she retorted the conversation. Hiding the real reason why the hair on her nape rose each time she pressed the tuneful chord. Or how chills seeped through her vein, shoving the nightmare away. So far, the younger Black didn't cross the line.
Martin arched an eyebrow, "But it's not good to push yourself, dear Merlin." he touched her button nose gently, "—or maybe you're liking the masochist teaching-method Black used."
"Ew." The Irish witch scrunched her nose as she chuckled, slapping his hand away from her face, "First of all, no. I don't like his way of teaching. He was like, you are supposed to do this correctly — Zygo are you even a Ravenclaw!"
