Title: To Die Laughing
Rating: R
Pairing/Characters/s: Evan Rosier
Word Count: 493
Warning/s: Evan Rosier is crazy. People kill him. He laughs. Lotta blood, death, and nonsensical rambling here, kay?
Summary: To some, dying may seem like the worst thing possible; to Evan, it's just a way to make the game more interesting than usual.
Dedication: Thanks to my mother, who tells me that no matter how much I wish it would go away, a story must be finished. And that she didn't labor for 24 hours after inducing her own labor by mowing our front lawn in 100 degree South Carolina weather just so I could lie around the house all day. Thanks Mom. I love you too.
A/N: Um, not a lot to say except, wow, this was way easier to write than I had originally expected. Hm. Warning signs much? Also, I am madly tempted to write a sequel from Moody's perspective. –cackles–
Evan is ready, when they come for him, the little Aurors, all neat and straight in their careful formations, shining Light magic draped thick around them like heavy, barely transparent gauze. It is hard to see through, oh, so hard.
But he sees. He always sees. And he laughs.
The first one dies three heartbeats after she enters his front door; pretty little witch, not so pretty now, her pretty face all burnt and pretty hair all gone with blood oozing out her scalp and pretty eyes all scratched and mangled and her pretty, pretty skin split open from head to toe, so that he can see those pretty, pretty insides, and hold that pretty little heart.
When he holds it up and laughs, laughs so hard to see how easy it is to break her heart into a thousand shreds of flesh, the others stand for a moment, unsure, unaware, so afraid, poor things, but he can fix that for them. Oh yes, he can fix that.
He uses one of Severus's spells on the next on, a big man, all muscle and no brains, charging straight at him, honestly, and when the spell hits, the blood washes over him like a soothing rain, painting the walls and the floor and the ceiling.
Evan has always rather liked the color red.
They are so righteous, these men of the Ministry, so very proud and filled with anger at his kind, but they are just as wrong inside as he is, and he can see that.
He sees through the veil, and stands stock still after killing the sixth, head thrown back so that his laughter will be able to reach the ones who will understand it best.
Everyone can try to hide from him, but his eyes are mad and wild and they see everything, see deep down and under all the layers of lies and hiding; there is nothing he can't see. Nothing. It's why His Lord valued him so much, for his wonderful, seeing eyes.
When the hex comes at him, a vicious slice of light aimed at his slender, girlish neck – he knows what he looks like, a waif-like slip of pale skin and dark curls – he forces himself to stop laughing, and he whirls to face the new enemy.
Alastor Moody stares back at him, and Evan can see that he thinks he sees all, but he doesn't, he can't, and he never, ever will, unless –
Evan smiles. Let it never be said that he has never done any favors for the enemy.
Moody screams with hatred when Evan's curse gouges out his eye, slicing off a good bit of his nose as well, and this time, the hex hits home; goes right through Evan's heart.
It's okay though. They don't need him to see anymore.
His smile is dark, and the blood on his pale face makes his teeth shine like pearls in a bath of blood.
Someone else can see now.
Kay. It's done. Finally.
God, I am so tired; y'all have no idea how much bloody work they've already managed to cram down our throats.
Please review and make my headache worth it.