Elmer was annoyed by Crouch’s unwillingness to take his hand in a handshake. So much so, that he didn’t really notice Selwyn’s comment about his intellectual abilities. They were here because he had insulted November’s honour (which he did, he supposed) but in no other way was Crouch acting like a gentleman. Elmer suspected this was less so because Crouch cared about his sister and moreso because he had a personal problem with him and because he had personal problems in general and needed a scapegoat to take out his frustrations.

“Before we begin,” Elmer said, with some annoyance creeping to his voice. “I want to inform Mr. Crouch that I am truly regretful of the thing I’ve said about his sister. That is not to say that I am trying to call things off - do not take this as an act of cowardice. I want to duel this man, for I find him terribly despicable and a hypocrite, besides. I will be fighting for the honour of the women he has ruined! Miss Annabelle Scrimgeour. Miss Melody Finch. Our own cousin,” he turned to Valerian Macnair, “Mrs. Ellory Lestrange.”

By the time he was done talking, he’d taken a pose with one hand resting on his hip, while the opposite leg supported the weight of his body.

The following 1 user Likes Elmer Macmillan's post:1 user Likes Elmer Macmillan's post
   Reuben Crouch

---

Lynn cropped this avatar for me and even added a border and I'm very appreciative for that. Love you Lynn.

Okay, for better or worse, they were on. Art straightened and was about to bid them to begin when Macmillan started speaking — without even thinking, Art shot forward to stick his body physically between the two men. His hand was on his wand in his pocket, although he wasn't sure what he would do with it if he needed — he was banking on Ben not wanting to risk hitting him.

He raised his voice: "We're doing this. Ten paces. First blood." He called out the names of the allotted spells in case either of them had forgotten, (or were, hm, inclined to forget) and kept his hand on his wand.

Art was a little worried about this — namely, he was a little worried that once they got into it, Ben wouldn't stop. He couldn't just fuck around with Selwyn and Valerian, he was realizing — he had to pay attention, and odds weren't bad that he would have to pop between them again.

---

The following 1 user Likes Arthur Pettigrew's post:1 user Likes Arthur Pettigrew's post
   Reuben Crouch

---

set by MJ <3

Ben looked at Macmillan as he spoke, face falling in anger and disbelief. He doesn't get to do that, Ben thought incredulously. Macmillan shouldn't be able to turn this around and pretend that Ben was the villain here, because Macmillan didn't know what the fuck he was talking about, and he didn't have any stake in the matter, anyway. He didn't even know some of the women whose names he rattled off, and he didn't get to make judgement calls about what Ben's interactions with them had been like. He didn't get to make this duel about Ben when he was the one saying disrespectful things about married women in the streets.

He especially didn't get to bring Melody into it, as though he knew anything about Melody.

Ben sniffed and his hand twitched against his wand, but Art was standing between them. He couldn't fire off a spell while Art was in the middle, and that was probably exactly why Art had put himself there in the first place, Ben realized. If Macmillan riled him up and he fired before the duel had started, he would be the villain, because he would be the one who broke the rules. It would take this duel from honorable to murderous, and then if they were caught Ben would get himself thrown in jail with or without Aldous' help. He just had to hold it together for another minute and then he'd be able to lay into him. Ten paces.

Ten paces, first blood. He'd told Art yesterday that none of these spells were really that dangerous, because they wouldn't be aiming for anything essential, but now he had no intention of throwing away his shot. He wanted to see Macmillan's heart fall out of his chest after this. First blood, and then some. He'd have to stop after one spell found its target, or maybe he could get away with two — anything else would have gone beyond the bounds of the duel. So he needed to make every spell count — make every spell hurt.

"Ten paces, first blood," he repeated, drawing his wand. "Ready."

The following 1 user Likes Reuben Crouch's post:1 user Likes Reuben Crouch's post
   Elmer Macmillan

---

MJ made this <3

Elmer sensed that his words had annoyed Crouch, which pleased him a great deal. It occurred to him that it pleased him to to do that. It was what had gotten him in his situation in the first place, but Elmer couldn’t help himself.

He nodded to Pettigrew’s instructions and then to each other. The two men turned their backs on each other and took ten steps forward, then turned around.

Elmer wasn’t a duelist at heart, but he was creative and he immediately saw a medium sized rock to his right, intending to have it attack Crouch. It didn’t hit the other man enough to kill him, but it did make him miss Elmer’s chest. Instead, his slasher charm merely cut his rather baggy shirt open, revealing the half of Elmer’s chest underneath.

  

---

Lynn cropped this avatar for me and even added a border and I'm very appreciative for that. Love you Lynn.

Ten paces, and Ben cast a shield charm first. He assumed Macmillan would jump straight to something flashy, and he had no intention of dying today. His shield was a strong one, but it was only in front of him, covering the space between him and Macmillan, which didn't prevent the rock Macmillan cast at from jumping at his leg. Damn. If he'd gone offense first, this might have been over already — as it was, the slashing spell he'd been aiming at the center of Macmillan's chest only managed to get his shirt.

A guttural noise of frustration burst from him, and Ben used an explosion hex to dispatch with the stupid rock. He'd have a sizeable bruise on his calf after this duel was done, but for the moment he hardly felt it at all. He was riding high on adrenaline and cocaine and he wasn't about to be deterred by a little bump — and there wasn't any blood, so they were still on.

With a dramatic swing of his wand (maybe he should have picked swords, because swinging something sharp at Macmillan would have been very satisfying at the moment), Ben sent a second explosion in his opponent's direction. The spell was a lot stronger than the one he'd cast on the rock — he wanted to rip this guy apart.

  

---

MJ made this <3

The explosive spell hit Elmer’s shield and did its boom thing there. He next aimed a slasher spell at Reuben Crouch’s face, meant to give him a face scar.

  

---

Lynn cropped this avatar for me and even added a border and I'm very appreciative for that. Love you Lynn.

His spell didn't affect Macmillan, but it did look like it had taken down his opponent's shield. This was the moment, then — if he hit now, before he could get the shield back up, he'd get him. Just as this thought occurred to him, Macmillan's spell hit Ben's shield, and sent it crackling with angry magical energy. It wasn't entirely dismantled, but it was definitely damaged. He could shore it up, and keep himself safe from whatever was coming next... but if he prioritized his shield, he might miss his moment when Macmillan's guard was down.

Ben had no intention of losing this duel even before he'd shown up this morning, but after Macmillan had shown up so casually, telegraphing so obviously that he didn't give a fuck about November or whether or not he ruined her life, his resolve to win had crystalized into something he could almost feel, like a physical lump in the center of his body. And then when he'd tried to drag Bella and Ellory and even fucking Melody into this middle of this, he'd gone from just wanting to win to wanting to cause real, lasting harm to Macmillan. This wasn't the moment to play it safe. This wasn't the time for shield charms.

He shot off an arrow spell, then another, then another. He sent some straight for Macmillan's chest, now laid bare in the beginnings of sunlight, and he sent some at angles so that if Macmillan got his shield back up too quickly they might still be able to slip past the sides. And because this was it, because they were only going to first blood and this might be the only chance he got, Ben shot again and again. He lost track of how many arrows he'd fired, and his shield cracked and broke under the strength of whatever Macmillan had shot at him next but he barely even noticed it.

Macmillan collapsed, and Ben stopped. He was breathing hard, but his eyes stayed on Macmillan a second longer. He'd won, but he wasn't sure if that was enough — wasn't sure if he'd done enough damage to put an end to all of this yet. It took him a second to realize that his shoulder was bleeding. He'd been hit by something when his shield broke, but he hadn't even felt it until now. God, there was a lot of blood.

Ben dropped his wand in the grass, reaching instinctively for the wound at his shoulder. "Shit," he swore. He was still breathing too hard for this, but it was over. It was over, and he'd won.

  

---

MJ made this <3

Elmer was hit by an arrow. And another one. And another one. Before he knew it, he got lightheaded and a buzz accompanied his hearing. He dropped on one knee, brought a hand to one of his wounds, realised there was a hot liquid coming out of it, which caused him to collapse. He managed to fall on his hand and he then made sure to fall on his back, so he could see the sky.

He was going to die. There was a part of him that kind of enjoyed the feeling. There was intense pain, but when there was intense pain, there was a greater promise of relief.

His vision got blurry. If only they had music now. Some church organ, maybe some Bach.

He was going to die in a duel.

Part of him as scared and hoped Valerian Macnair would come to his aid immediately.

Why wasn’t here any music?

Elmer began to feel dizzy. He began to recite with a shaky voice:

“I felt a Funeral, in my
Brain,
And mourners to and fro-“

The following 2 users Like Elmer Macmillan's post:2 users Like Elmer Macmillan's post
   November Malfoy, Roberto Devine

---

Lynn cropped this avatar for me and even added a border and I'm very appreciative for that. Love you Lynn.

Art watched the duel with no small amount of stress, flinching at some of the louder sounds. He wished they hadn't picked explosion spells, because even if no one had gotten wrenched apart surely that was the sort of thing that could kill people, and he also sort of wished he had brought something to drink. There were arrows then, all of a sudden, and surely more than one of them had hit Macmillan but Ben wasn't stopping and Art couldn't tell and as willing as he was to block them with his person if there was a pause, he wasn't about to get in the way of an arrow —

and then Macmillan collapsed and Ben stopped and it was over. "Go," Art hissed at Valerian with a handwave at Macmillan, although he was not sure he needed to tell Valerian this, as there would be no firewhiskey for anyone if someone died. He ran for Ben, still keeping a hand on his wand — for what, Art wasn't sure, but there was adrenaline in his veins, too — and Ben's shoulder was bleeding.

"Shit," Art said, looking at the gash in Ben's shoulder, which seemed — either deep or very bloody, he couldn't tell. "Can you move your hand?"

---

  

---

set by MJ <3

Valerian did not need Arthur's signal to know that his assistance was needed, but it prompted him into action nonetheless. It did not take long to reach Macmillan's side, and when he did so he dropped to the ground and began assessing the situation.

"Stop reciting poetry, you blubbering fool," he said, cursing to himself under his breath as he withdrew his wand. It had been a long time since Valerian had treated injuries of this capacity. As a healer in the Potion & Plant Poisoning ward he was more accustomed to internal injuries or rashes—and as an assistant healer-in-charge spent less time in patients' rooms than any of the healers on his floor, as he was often too tied up in handling his employees and paperwork than patients.

---

  

---

Well, that was... decisive. Emrys supposed as the man's second he really ought to be running to Elmer Macmillan's side right about now, but he could tell from his position by the tree that it was going to be bad. He'd never been particularly fond of blood, and he'd told Macmillan that when he'd asked him to second. No harm in letting the healer have a healthy lead, then. Emrys plucked his handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it over his nose as though he expected one of the two injured men to start to smell and looked off vaguely at the sunrise.

The following 1 user Likes Emrys Selwyn's post:1 user Likes Emrys Selwyn's post
   Elmer Macmillan

---

Lou made this! <3

Watching Macmillan just lay there was making the adrenaline drain out of him quickly, and Ben could feel himself deflating a bit. As he did, he started to settle into the moment. It was like his brain had only been capable of tracking so much, and had been focused on the spells themselves — shield charms, offense, and the steady burn of rage that had propelled him — and only now was he beginning to have the capacity for other things, like the pain in his shoulder and the fact that he was still breathing too hard and holy shit, is he going to die?

Art was there, suddenly. Ben hadn't seen him walk up but here he was. He was saying something, but it took Ben a second to realize what; when he heard Art say shit he didn't realize he was talking about Ben's wound but assumed it was about this whole thing and the fact that Ben had just laid into Macmillan badly enough that he'd collapsed, and was bleeding, and would maybe die.

"He shouldn't have said all that stuff before the duel started," Ben said, as though trying to defend or explain his actions, but after the words left his mouth he realized that Art hadn't asked. Oh — his hand. Could he move it? Ben flicked his fingers experimentally — apparently the answer was yes.

"I can't feel it," he said, holding his hand up and looking down at it a little stupidly. "Or — I can, but it's tingling, like it's about to go numb."

  

---

MJ made this <3

“You’re so cruel to deny a dying man his one joy,” Elmer said dramatically with a smile. He was going to die, so he wanted to be kind during his final moments. Forgive everyone. Even Crouch, who had sent the arrows.

He tried to grab onto Valerians arm as he worked, for dramatic purposes: “You're a good man.” He said, because that sounded like something a dying character from a novel might say. “Don’t tell my mother that I suffered much.”

In truth, some of the pain had already started to go away by some potion Macnair had given him, which was making it harder to act the dying man.

  

---

Lynn cropped this avatar for me and even added a border and I'm very appreciative for that. Love you Lynn.

After shoving a potion down Macmillan's throat he was able to actually focus on tending to the wounds. The arrows had disintegrated into thin air after their target had been hit, but the wounds were very, very real. He'd never liked the smell of blood—in fact, he would have preferred cleaning vomit. But he did his job dutifully, both because he wanted his firewhiskey and because he didn't think Elmer Macmillan deserved to die, even if his brother was Charles Macmillan.

He cast a number of spells, first to clean the wounds, and then to prevent further bleeding. It would take a few days to ensure there would be no infection, but it was better that the wounds were magically-inflicted than by real, physical arrows that had been exposed to the elements and all that entailed.

"You're not going to die," he reassured in a hushed tone, placing his free hand atop the man's hand in the most comforting gesture he could muster while trying to focus on ensuring that his words stayed true.

---

The following 1 user Likes Valerian Macnair's post:1 user Likes Valerian Macnair's post
   Camilla Lytton

---

Art winced, and then schooled his expression to pretend he hadn't. "Valerian should be able to fix that," he said, although in truth he did not really understand what healers did — but if healers had been able to knit his kneecap back together after the World Cup, then they ought to be able to fix whatever was going on with Ben's shoulder.

"Once he's done over there, I guess." Art stood on his toes to try to get a better angle. Hopefully Macmillan wouldn't actually die, because that would be really unfortunate — but from his vantage, things seemed a little less dire than they had in the moment where Macmillan collapsed.

---

  

---

set by MJ <3

Art didn't look disappointed in him, Ben noted. He didn't know why he'd thought he would have been, but it had crossed his mind. Ben had won the duel, and everyone had known this was happening and that he intended to win. He hadn't done anything out of line, except maybe sending quite as many arrows as he had when one or two might have fulfilled the requirements of first blood. But, anyway — Art didn't look disappointed, and he was vaguely glad. He wasn't worried about his hand, not really. He'd done a lot worse to Macmillan, who was not going to die (hopefully), and so Ben could survive whatever this was. Macnair was a good healer, and everything was going to be fine now. This was over.

"Thanks, Art," he said, not specifying for what but thinking his friend would probably know he meant for everything. "It's over."

  

---

MJ made this <3