A/N: HP belongs to Rowling
This chapter has a twin, and I will try to upload it soon not to disturb you with the cliffhanger too long :)
Be warned about adult content and various types of angst.
Oh, and reviews make the chapters come quicker. I really would appreciate feedback and encouragement works on muses too :)
Chapter 15. Falling
Saturday by dawn, Severus Snape woke in his armchair again and enjoyed a long moment of silence before the tumult of his thoughts returned from last night. Those few hours of sleep didn't do much to dull the riot in his mind, and he already accepted some facts he still couldn't escape.
First, he agreed with himself that a few tears falling was not equal to sobbing, and considering a wizard is also just an occupant of a human body, it shouldn't be taken too seriously at all. Especially if no-one saw anything in that manner. As for the second problem, he reluctantly admitted that his mind was in a state his Occlumency would not solve. Regrettably. Because the turmoil he experienced needed him to open up all boxes and stores of memories and feelings which he usually kept carefully tucked away in the hidden places of his consciousness where he was never been tempted to look at twice.
And this absolute havoc upon a bunch of bloody flowers!
The irony was so bitter he couldn't feel amused. Severus tried and failed to name the incomprehensible feeling that prompted him last night to face the mess his mind accumulated. It was gratefulness, doubt, joy, a half-forgotten desire to feel safe… all or neither. It was definitely akin to feeling cared about, something he rarely experienced throughout his years and probably never in his adult life. And actually, it felt good. Very good indeed…
After this decade and a half, he had people who respected him. Not many. Some other – like Dumbledore – trusted him. But he knew that deep inside, nobody cared. If they did, then not for him. They cared about the opportunity his existence presented. He provided solutions, information, potions, knowledge, or a scapegoat, each for different persons, enough for some to care about his being, but being was not life. Severus had long reckoned with the insignificance of his existence. He took it as a part of his task. His life mattered for its purpose and not for his person because the person was unworthy of such considerations. This bouquet of arnica from the Forbidden Forest did not match the concept.
It was ridiculously unnecessary! However, before he began to rant about this obvious fact, he had to admit that this was what made it feel so good. Disturbingly good.
The very last person under the sun who ever made him feel this good was the same one Severus only dared to recall with his eyes shut tight. He cried silent tears upon losing her repeatedly in these last twenty years, and losing her was a long and painful process.
First, he lost her friendship, admittedly by his own mistake. A stupid, tell-tale mistake, marking him as an unworthy brat for eternity, and he was not worth her forgiveness either; she said so herself. Severus accepted her decision; even if there were hazy moments, he could hardly understand it. Other times her judgement didn't even seem harsh enough.
He lost her again, in a manner of speaking, when she said yes to that prick. Formerly, he thought he understood her. No-one knew he saw her marry him; he'd always been good at hiding. He hadn't planned to step in or to show himself, and he did neither. He only needed sufficient evidence that it happened. He had to believe it if he saw!
Then he lost her all. Guilt attacked again, and Severus didn't even try to fight it. Through remorse and repentance, the shortest route was to let them wash through him and run their course undisturbed. Maybe this was part of the penitence that three times goddam Tobias used to preach about on his so-called better days.
It was only just if nobody cared because the last one who cared died by his mistake. The world was unfair, but not entirely unjust, and he came a far way to accept all his faults. Then an annoying, quarrelsome witch shows up from nowhere, and she cares.
HOW DARE SHE?
Surely her father never suggested such nonsense! No one with a sane mind would ever suggest a woman care about a wreck like he was! Not that Mad-Eye ever had a sane mind, but still… Indeed, he was a living dead, only moved by purpose and a hint of vanity –
SHE. HAD. NO. RIGHT.
She had no right to care about him, but instead of last night's desperate anger, now he only knew it felt good. Too good to comprehend.
He slid into sleep with a resolve to push her away with force, but now he felt too weak to do it. He remembered when he drove Lily away on that fateful day in his hurt and frustrated ire. He just wanted… it was foolish, but it all hurt so freaking much! He wanted her to feel it, he wanted her to feel how fucking much it hurt, and she did not, could not help!
No use to bury his face in his palms; he could never hide from his madness. She got hurt, and he was the one who'd hurt her. Nothing else mattered, nothing. He never tried to find a way out of it or to "redeem himself." Bullshit. He screwed the only thing that ever truly mattered, and now should he do the same again as a supposedly matured man because he still hurt and felt no way out of this pit? Should he push away one more friendly hand, knowing now the cost?
Of course, it was different. He had always loved Lily. She was exceptional, with a clean breeze always lingering about her. She was confident, beautiful, and by some unexplainable grace of fate, she came when he called her. Repeatedly. She talked to him, asked him, encouraged him, they planned and prepared together for a better life as kids. The only thing he ever remembered doing with somebody. Not just along or by.
It was mesmerizing to have the attention of such a girl, someone who always had clean clothes, whose hair was tidy, never complained about mundane things or played with indecent things or folks. But with him. Her attention made him special for a while, and she was another world. He wished with all his might for her to accept him.
Severus supposed she did all she could. Losing her was harder than losing a romance or anything carnal because she was so different. She was pure in his eyes, too pure to think about her that way. Those rare times he couldn't escape his lower nature, he felt guilty for lack of respect and self-restraint. Losing her was losing a chance, a friend, a dream. That made it so unbearable. It was much worse than a loss of love.
How selfish would it be to try to make another friend?
He knew he shouldn't. He knew he'd better let Dumbledore talk her out of this mistake. He was a bad friend. A traitor of all cause he ever believed in, be it "good" or "bad." A pathetic, bitter man who made people feel miserable – especially himself. Severus Snape did not deserve to have a friend. But with all his soul, he wished he did!
Washing his face and grooming himself into an acceptable state, then walking up to the Great Hall felt like it needed most of his courage. He wanted to see the witch and dreaded the moment. Would she feel something changed? Would she still care? Would she talk about last afternoon at all? Or anything else? Would seeing her prove he only misunderstood her? Or would she simply just take it all back? The safest bet was to see her among as many people as it could get, living through the anticipated shock of it silently and relatively painlessly. He only had to keep his mouth shut. He is going to watch her. That was the plan.
With a face of stone and cold determination, Snape approached his colleagues by the Head Table, Dumbledore greeted him, McGonagall offered a measured smile, and he nodded back. Flitwick was nearly through his meal, Pomona silently conversed with Sinistra, and even Pince appeared at the leg of the table. Where is she?
Severus diligently chewed on his toast and waited until the late-risers began to descend to the student tables. Umbridge seemed to never run out of words, but he could not make himself give her a thought, only compulsively watched the door or the empty chairs until Dumbledore's piercing look caught his eye. The old wizard watched him above his glasses and, as soon as their glances met, cast a nonverbal Legilimens. Severus straightened his shoulders in his surprise, but the attack was fruitless, and the Headmaster already turned away. He knew he had to follow him to his office. The invitation was quick, clear and unmistakable.
Few minutes after Dumbledore excused himself, Snape rose, too, and walked along the corridors, taking the longer route. He stopped short by the oak door and looked toward the tail-end of the Forest, but there was not a soul. On the second floor, he hesitantly stopped again and turned left to a door he presumed belonged to her. After a quick look about the empty corridor, Severus convinced himself to knock and get over it, but there was no reply. It was hard to tuck all his thoughts and insecurities away before he made the gargoyle move and arrived to face the Headmaster, but not the hardest thing he'd ever done.
The office was silent; only the sounds of the Headmaster's toys could be heard. A faint shimmering light escaping the Pensieve's cabinet proved Dumbledore was at work. The old man waited for him behind his desk with his fingers stood up before his face like a tent. Severus halted and somehow managed not to curse.
"Oh, please!" On the Headmaster's questioning look, he added, "Whenever you hold your hands in that manner, I am into a serious discussion ending with my long and hopefully fruitful absence. What do you hold in store for me this time?"
The Headmaster rewarded his observation with a faint smile. "Well, I will not pretend I never earned such words from you" – he gestured toward one of the armchairs, and Snape took a seat. "How have you been lately?" Checking his Occlumency, Severus fidgeted with the plush on the armrest of his chair. "That bad?" – Dumbledore chuckled. "I imagined you would enjoy this interesting year immensely and prepared to hear your remarkable thoughts."
Severus kept on fidgeting because he could not bestir himself to reply. Where should he direct the Headmaster's attention? He saw don'ts in every direction.
"Come on, Severus, rumour has it you even learned to fly!" Dumbledore mercilessly chuckled. "And I am sure Educational Decree No. 24 calls for your intense smugness, at least after what I heard from Minerva."
"That was obvious. She knew it all as much as I did. Her vision is only blurred by her compassion for Potter."
"You'll be relieved she had serious conversations with Harry" – Dumbledore nodded – "I am more worried about the detention he had to receive."
"You cannot mean to rescue him from a simple detention'" Severus snorted.
"No! Of course, I cannot. Although the detention was far not simple this time, I'm afraid our new High Inquisitor used a Blood Quill on him."
Severus' eyes twitched in a narrow line. "What makes you believe this?"
"Sage!" – Dumbledore leaned his hands on his desk and pushed himself up from his seat to begin his pacing about the room. "Who thought I would enjoy her observational skills to this level? She looked Harry in the eye for me several times before she encountered by chance the offered memory-"
"Did you ask her to use Legilimency on Potter?" Severus tried to keep his breathing even and only show a hint of cautious disbelief.
"Of course not, that would have been dangerous. You know it even better than me. Especially with the circumstances…" – The Headmaster walked to the Phoenix with a heavy sight and caressed the bird. "No, I only happened to tell her I was missing the opportunity to look the boy in the eye now and then. Just to ensure all is well, that is all. You know that memories, thoughts, and fractions of feelings keep coming to the front of one's mind at this age. Neither she nor I would be the first to gather some shreds of thoughts with the method, won't you agree?" Severus pulled a face but kept his peace. "She chanced upon some memory about Harry using a Black Quill in Umbridge's room." Dumbledore paused and let Snape time to digest the news. He only went on when he paled beyond his average. "Will you guess what he had to carve into his hand?"
"You will have to enlighten me."
"I must not tell lies."
Severus watched as the jovial shine waned in the old eyes. Albus Dumbledore rarely showed his real power, but when he did, it was meaningful. Playing a game of the intellect and forgiving foolishness to focus on his one true enemy – the Headmaster had this approach for years, but it seemed those times were officially over.
"What do you need me to do?" Severus asked with similar coldness.
"I want a full background on Dolores Umbridge, not a usual one. I know she is no Death Eater, I have ears in the Ministry, and I'm sure you can easily imagine how supportive Arthur Weasley was. I need more." He looked Snape in the eye suspiciously apologetically. "Severus, I would like you to talk to her victims. In Azkaban."
Dumbledore went on and talked about merfolk, werewolves and other half-creatures, as the Ministry lately called them, and about drafts of legislations… Severus could only blink.
Azkaban! His blood ran cold, and his chest tightened with fear.
She used a Blood Quill on Lily's son. - But Dementors will be all around!
That was Lily's blood! - Yes, but Dementors! Azkaban!
He pushed the horror aside.
"Do you have anything specific in mind that I should look for?" – He asked the Headmaster in a colourless voice.
"It would be nice to know if she had any more dark artifacts at her disposal. One of her victims might have seen something of import. Her family is less, say pure, than she would lead us all to believe. I doubt we should look for heirlooms. Although if she bought her toy from Knockturn, we might be into some nasty surprises."
"Am I supposed to interrogate prisoners in Azkaban on her taste of artifacts?"
The Headmaster didn't see the humour in the question. "If you have to put it that way, yes, I ask you to do so. Also, as a cover for Tom, you might visit Sturgis too. Tell him, I suspect his case is a sad example in Imperius, but we couldn't sufficiently prove that. It is sadly true."
"If you let me share some tidbits about the prophecy that would come more to my aid,"–Severus deemed–"Lucius is more adept in recruiting than presenting the information."
For some reason, the Headmaster's gaze darkened on the word recruiting, but he only shook his head.
"I understand your hardships, but unfortunately, this is exactly the issue we cannot let him advance. However, if you get Sturgis to share his thoughts on the matter, I wouldn't mind if you reported those to me. I also warn you against showing any interest of mine in artifacts. Doing so would endanger the outcome of the whole war. I expect you take all measures to conceal that. Have you heard something new on recruiting?"
"I kept to my orders, Sir, as you suggested me to do. I watched you closely and "angered" the boy. Not that he needed any aid to lose his fragile temper, you should know that. The boy is even more irritable than his usual average. I even had to pull my punches this year. It feels peculiar."
"I am convinced." Dumbledore nodded, and held out a small roll of parchment, which Snape understood as his admission to the prison. "I'd like you to know if I had anyone else to ask-"
Snape waved his excuses away and took the roll before he turned for the door. "Of course."
"Severus," – the Headmaster's voice halted him again. "I have no other to ask. I wish I could, but dear Sage is preoccupied and-"
"You cannot possibly contemplate sending a witch like her to Azkaban!" He regretted his slip as soon as he uttered the words, but Dumbledore already stepped past his desk and searched his eyes.
"A witch like her, my boy? What is she like?"
With his Occlumency intact, Severus gave the most nonchalant answer that came to mind: "Most of the cells are filled with her father's work. Your friend has done nothing to endear himself or anyone of his circles."
Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully and seemed to relax. "I believe you're right, my boy. This is for the best, then. I find it relieving you to go voluntarily, though. This is a hard task with your memories."
Severus growled and headed down the stairs, letting the old schemer close the door behind him. Azkaban! - Voluntarily. He had to search through every word exchanged to find out how Dumbledore could make this ridiculous notion pass.
In his quarters, he sat down for a short meditation; he needed all his emotions, memories and doubts back in their safe boxes and hidden in the back of his mind. The short-lived levity of life at Hogwarts was over, and he needed all his good sense about him. The house elf appeared as soon as he began to close up his quarters and lab and apologized for not reporting on the trifles in his House. It probably meant he fell asleep by the time the elf popped up last night. Severus grabbed the chance to trust him with his fourth-year student's care. The elf nodded with enthusiasm.
"Master leaving Hogwarts? Master should give more duty to Chubby until he returns!"
Severus' heart lightened by his eagerness to please. "You're doing great, Chubby. I give you no more duty than I already had. And I am not your Master. You belong to Hogwarts."
The house elf's ears flagged, and he stopped his usual balancing from one leg to the other. "Professor Snape tells Chubby what Professor Snape wants Chubby to do, but-"
"But?" He grabbed on the chance for what seemed the last moment of levity before all the horrors he couldn't be more reluctant to face.
"Chubby wishes if served Professor's Snape House. Not only Hogwarts house. Master is good. Chubby is a good elf for his family."
He nearly burst out with laughter. "If this is what you hope for, you should switch jobs with another house elf. You won't ever satisfy such aspirations around me."
The elf stood up as high as it was possible with his built. "Chubby switches not. Master will go and see." – With that Chubby, the faithful elf disappeared with a pop that seemed much louder than his average.
Severus left the castle amused by the never anticipated possibility to offend a house elf, and the thought gave some swing to his steps. He Apparated on the shores against the prison island and tried to talk himself into the task ahead.
Standing on the rocks above the sea, the cold wind clattered the long tails of his black robe, and his stomach churned under the grey sky. Even this far from the island, everything seemed hopeless and menacing. Or was it only the weather?
Because Apparating to the island was impossible, he sent up red sparkles from his wand to announce his presence and waited for the boat. Two Dementors navigated to the shores, and he seated to the only place between them with intense disgust. Their sickening presence drove away the rest of the feelings he left unprotected, and Severus focused on his purpose not to lose his bearings. He never heard the popping sound from the shore.
By the time the boat ran up the island's shore, his teeth had clenched so strong it had made his jaw hurt. He handed his roll of admission and told the Dementors he was to interrogate Sturgis Podmore, a merman named Salid and Schoshack the werewolf. Four faceless guards sniffed the air about him, their impatience and hunger obvious, just like their discontentment with his unusual lack of feelings. Severus raised his wand, and the guards stepped back, but never left.
Podmore was the first. The poor boy lay face-down on his cell's floor unmoving even when he stepped closer to greet him. Severus had some faint memory about him from their school years. He wouldn't recognize him now. Sturgis only stirred when the Dementors backed away to provide an opportunity to even talk.
"Why you, Severus?" Podmore searched his face with glassy eyes. "I will not confess a thing. Whoever sent you, you may tell them that I won't."
"I did not come from the Ministry, Sturgis, Dumbledore sent me. Can you recall Dumbledore?"
Podmore hesitantly nodded, and after about a minute of intense concentration, some blood began to return to his cheeks. They turned grey from green, and his hands started a violent tremble. "Severus, take me away from here! Get me out! – he begged – Tell Albus I have tried, I did my best for him, but I die here!"
"Sturgis-"
"You have to take me out! Get me out! Please! Please take me…"
"Sturgis, listen! Listen to me!" – Severus shook him lightly by the shoulders – "I cannot take you to him now, you know very well, it is impossible. But you may help."
Podmore seemed to sink back to the nothingness he spent his time before.
"Sturgis! Sturgis! Come on, man, it's not in vain. Dumbledore needs you; he counts on you. Hell, you are not forgotten!" The limp body of a wizard slid lower in his hands, but finally, Podmore opened his eyes again. "That's a good boy! Come, man up! Look at me!"
The gaze that met his was bare with agony. Severus swallowed against the bile in his throat and cast Legilimens. The mind he entered felt cold, and at first glance, it seemed empty. Black veils covered anything he might have seen. It mostly resembled a long-abandoned room, and Severus wished for nothing more than to cast light here. He tried his utmost to pull on those veils as gently as he could. This mind was vulnerable, and he didn't want to be the cause of more harm.
"Sturgis, do you remember when you were cursed?" – He asked in a low, even voice. Podmore shook his head, but the eye-contact remained. Severus reluctantly sank back into his mind. Which veil to pull?
"Think of Lucius," – he tried following his hunch – "Do you remember Lucius?" An edge of a veil seemed to flop. "When have you last seen him? Think of him!" Severus hoped for the best and tactfully pulled the veil from what proved to be memories connected to work. Suddenly flashes of Ministry-work began to chase each other in Podmore's mind with dazzling speed.
Severus had to pull out of the excited mind before he got sick with a migraine. He made sure not to lose his breakfast with a few calming breaths and regained his balance within his own faculties. "The Ministry, yes. But when, Sturgis, when was the last time?"
This time a distinct memory of Potter's hearing came to view. Severus watched through it, trying to focus on his curiosity and never letting his own memories surface. Facing the Wizengamot affected him even with these additional boundaries between him and the events. He saw Dumbledore playing his usual part and heard Umbridge speak. Curiously the memory did not end with the end of the hearing. Podmore moved about a closed-door on a service-corridor. He was… Hell, was the man waiting for the loo?! Severus already began to cautiously pull back from this mind when he recognized the faint image of Malfoy in the restroom mirror. Lucius stepped aside to make space politely, got behind Podmore and mumbled his curse.
"Show me your next time on duty," – Severus urged Podmore, and the scene changed.
This time the memory was blurry, and the colours were faint. For his perception, some objects and people showed up here with more clarity than others before all faded back to the general grey background. Podmore entered a room. No. A Hall. With rows and rows of endless shelves reaching from floor to ceiling. Every frame packed with what seemed to be globes and inscriptions underneath… countless prophecies.
He felt Podmore's hesitance. Like he didn't know which one to pick. He had clear command of which one to take, but how to find that? Podmore began to slowly read his way through the endless rows. When people came shouting at him, he didn't stop. He couldn't. Munch cursed him with a Stupefy, Severus felt the impact, and it prompted him out of Sturgis' mind.
His head ached, his stomach swirled, but he'd found what Dumbledore asked for. A few calming breaths again, and he turned back to Podmore.
"Sturgis, listen to me!" He shook the boy again to get a reaction. "Sturgis, listen, Dumbledore remembers you. You did well. You helped. You will be free again. Can you hear me?"
Podmore blinked and finally nodded.
"Good boy. Now hang on in there!" He released him. "Remember you did well. You are not forgotten. Everything else will pass."
"Severus, don't go!" – Podmore cried when he turned away. "Don't leave me here!"
He could not look back.
The four Dementors waited on him and escorted him to the merman. Salid was a pitiful sight with his skin grey by nature which now developed rashes slimy and brown, Severus presumed it was water-deprivation. The communication this time was less of a struggle, but the Dementors didn't step back as far as previously either. Severus felt their deadly effect more by the minute. When he felt lightheaded, he reached in his robe for a bite of chocolate and forced it down through the bile in his throat. His stomach didn't thank him, but at least he was able to think.
Salid was revived by the possible chance to punish Umbridge for her deeds, although the Dementors soon sucked the spark of joy out of the air. Their delight called more of their kind, and the cell got colder with every addition to their crowd.
Severus asked Salid about his memories concerning Umbridge, and he sat through a long and twisted tale he could hardly follow. The Dementors' presence began to affect him. While Salid recited his tale of his entrapment by a muggle ship, the Ministry's reluctance to help, the errand Obliviation that hit a child of his clan and the final and unjust investigation that followed, Severus struggled against his own memories bursting out.
Salid told about his Ministry-hearing, and for a second, he saw his drunken father taking off his belt. Salid recited Umbridge's speech on superior and inferior species, and he saw himself at his mother's funeral. By the time Salid finished his story, he had gotten through second-long flashes of him hiding in Slytherin's common room after receiving the first curse that hit him, hanging upside down by the lake. At the same time, stuffed-up Potter had torn off his pants. He saw himself begging for forgiveness in front of the Gryffindor Common Room, only to be refused. He had been standing above his first victim as a Death Eater and looked in his glassy eyes, then he lived through the memory of receiving his first punishment from the Dark Lord. He was quite sure what the next short flashes would come to show. He worked hard not to see them.
One more bite of chocolate and he managed to strengthen the walls of his Occlumency and asked Salid about artifacts he might have seen on or around Umbridge. To his surprise, the merman was ready to recall her rings. He had a vivid memory of gaudy rings on her hand that – in his view – showed the more care for the lifeless than for the living—nothing surprising or new there.
Severus turned away from Salid to escape the room only to count nine eager Dementors sniffing the air about him. He knew they could sense that his defences had previously wavered and did his utmost to sound calm and commanding as he asked to be led to Schoshak. The Dementors reluctantly backed away, and he walked out between their hedges.
He did so by the cost of hearing the screams of all muggles and half-bloods ever tortured or killed in his presence. Every cry for mercy, all the begging for help – He lifted his head high and straightened his shoulders.
When they arrived at an abandoned cell, he prepared to meet a werewolf, even in a human form. He kept his wand ready, not knowing what madness the Dementors' prolonged presence could have caused on the beast. But he found a boy about sixteen, lying helpless across the floor with open, glassy eyes. One look was enough to be sure those eyes were lifeless.
Severus teetered in the cell door, and the deathly coldness finally made it to his chest. He fought for a steady breath, but he felt queasy, and his thoughts blurred. Having his own thoughts neatly packed away, there was nothing else that remained but the sight of that dead child. He fell on his knees by the so-called "werewolf" and gently closed the boy's eyes. He was ready to lay beside him.
Only… the elusive realization slowly hit him. This was supposed to be a joke! In these infernal creatures' twisted mind, his agony was a delight and leading him to the remains of Schoshak was for their amusement! Severus held his wand with fingers clenching so tight they whitened. There was not a happy thought but hot white rage! It cleared up some of the fog on his mind.
"Expecto Patronum" – he breathed. Nothing happened.
He tried to unpack the carefully guarded memory of sitting with Lilly under a linden and planning for Hogwarts.
"Expecto Patronum!" He tried against the bile in his throat and the fog before his eyes. A wane silver mist emerged from his wand. Fuck! Unable to protect the memory, the silvery shine dissipated, and rattling voices sucked the small fragment of happiness from the air. He was helpless against despair, but anger prompted him to try and try on.
Severus tore up boxes after boxes of treasured little memories, digging up moments he felt cherished or cared about, like when Lily brought him a candle and a piece of cake on his birthday or when he found a bunch of herbs piled up on his desk.
The Patronus jumped out of his wand, majestic and glorious. He marvelled at her beauty before he sent the doe against the Dementors blocking the doorway. As she launched herself at them, Severus felt life returning to his limbs, and he stood up, finally able to breathe. When he looked again, the Dementors were already gone, but his Patronus stayed with him. He had to remind himself not to waste any more time admiring her beauty. Instead, he tried to find his way back to the boat.
A familiar shrill voice reached him.
"I see you, Snape! You traitor! I see you, and I curse your name!"
Severus recognized the voice even before he turned to face Bellatrix. She was grabbing onto the bars of her cell. With the last of his presence of mind, Severus stepped closer.
"Soon"- he told her. "Soon."
Then finally, nothing stood between him and the boat. Only to sit straight between the two guards, he needed all his strength. His hands tightened on his wand, and he grabbed onto his churning stomach, his head felt hollow, but he persisted and showed the minimum of discomfort.
Gods laugh the proud. Stepping on the rocky shore, he stooped and nearly fell. Struggling for balance while giving all out into the sea, he felt a particularly familiar pain shooting through his left arm.