standsonhigh | There's nothing here but what here's mine.

This wasn't, exactly, how he had planned his return. He had expected to be on home turf, a place he understood and wanted to be. Surrounded by worshippers and already plotting. Not here with some strange man using the power he gave specifically to his followers to bring him back. The books of Saxon weren't meant to be public knowledge, they were his private notes, and yet this man decided to drag him into a world he didn't want to be in.

The Master always had a funny feeling that magic wasn't something he should of ever tried to toy with because as it stood, he didn't like where this was going. It defied the logic he knew.

Voldemort was a strange creature, a very unpleasant one at that. He looked sickly and his eyes were red like an albino. Still, he didn't say much on it, he'd looked worse himself and damages were just a sign of ambition and desire. It always took everything out of you, especially with humans.

The drums were raging in his head as he followed Voldemort into this meeting he'd decided to attend. He'd only been back a few days and already he seemed to of captured the imagination of this tiny little creature who was all but eager to introduce him.

An ancient ruler from another reality must of been interesting.

He didn't walk behind Voldemort, he kept in step, not willing to seem a lesser. Hey, the dark lord brought him here. If he was going to play with this merry band of psychopaths, he wanted to seem equal.

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Actually, Barty thought no such thing, but he had too much pride not to put on some kind of front and right now brattiness seemed to be all he had. He wasn't surprised by how the Barty reacted, sure that his ribs were cracking already, desperately trying to shift his arms a little to keep the right one from being dislocated. He could already imagine that if that happened, the Master wouldn't fix it and that would mean a lot of permanent pain. Permanent damage. Oh.

Part of him was still thinking of a future. Perhaps already thinking of giving in? He pushed the thoughts aside, looking up at the Master's wand. He braced himself, as best as he could, and took a deep breath since the pressure of the foot was gone. And then his eyes widened.

Nothing happened. In the ensuing silence, Barty struggled to keep a straight face, even in spite of the pain he was in. Dark magic was no easy feat, it took time and discipline. "...that's alright. I hear lot of older men struggle with that."

shit. No. It didn't work. The Master stared at the wand then back at Barty, eyes wide in horror. No, no, no, no. That wasn't fair. With a growl of anger, he resisted snapping the wand in half and simply threw it over his shoulder in disinterest. "Magic is rubbish anyway, it doesn't leave marks. I love to see my handiwork"

And, with that, he kicked Barty in the jaw, aiming to hurt it as much as possible. To make talking a chore so he'd have to shut up, he didn't need to hear him yammering on. Then, finally, he applied enough force that the arm that he was sure he must of pulled it entirely out of place by now.

"Don't even think you can mock me, Junior."

With a growl of annoyance, he turned around and grabbed the wand off the floor, heading towards the stairs. Flicking off the light as he passed it, he swiftly made his exit out the door and slammed it shut behind him. Let the bastard seethe in the dark for a while, he had to learn that bloody curse. Now.

The horror in the Master's eyes was well worth the pain, Barty decided, laughing even after his face was kicked, although the sound came out wrong and strangled with his whole world suddenly exploding in different kind of hurt. He did scream, clear and loud, when his arm was dislocated, tears coming to his eyes, but it didn't keep him from chuckling still, just as his throbbing jaw and bleeding lip didn't keep him from smiling.

He made sure to be laughing still until after he had heard the Master go up the stairs and then he quieted down, lowering his head and closing his eyes and feeling how his cheeks became wet from tears.

It wasn't fear, it wasn't even the pain. It was how lost he felt, with his direction taken from him so suddenly. Lonely and miserable and he wanted to die.

There's nothing here but what here's mine.

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