Raphael had gotten used to being surprised by Yaxley's requests, but he had admit he hadn't walked into this situation expecting her to ask him to perform magic. He thought she'd realized by now that he wasn't as skilled a wizard as she was a witch. It was too embarrassing an admission to make aloud, but she had to know; through every terrible situation they'd been put through, it was her who'd wielded a wand most effectively. Head tilted to the side, he stared down at her with slightly narrowed eyes and his lips downturned into a frown.
"Legilimency isn't a skill I've mastered," he explained, expecting that she knew the risks already. "My father taught me how to, of course, but it's never been my strong suit. You'd have to be able to put yourself in a state where you're practically begging for me to see inside your mind." Legilimency's effectiveness was just as dependent on the mental shields of the victim as it was on the skill of the user. If she was at resistant, his skill wouldn't be enough; but if she could put her walls down and trust him, he might be able to manage it.
He stepped closer, wanting to see her face unobstructed by the shadows of the shack. She looked so tired. It didn't matter how many times he said it to himself—it would never fully capture how sallow and frail she looked. He raised a hand and tilted her chin up so she looked him in the eye, seeking signs of resistance or reluctance. "What do you to hope to get from it, anyways? It's not a pleasant experience." His father had taken joy at invading his mind—a power play as much as it was a lesson. He didn't regret going through it, but he didn't want to put Yaxley through it if there was another way.
"Legilimency isn't a skill I've mastered," he explained, expecting that she knew the risks already. "My father taught me how to, of course, but it's never been my strong suit. You'd have to be able to put yourself in a state where you're practically begging for me to see inside your mind." Legilimency's effectiveness was just as dependent on the mental shields of the victim as it was on the skill of the user. If she was at resistant, his skill wouldn't be enough; but if she could put her walls down and trust him, he might be able to manage it.
He stepped closer, wanting to see her face unobstructed by the shadows of the shack. She looked so tired. It didn't matter how many times he said it to himself—it would never fully capture how sallow and frail she looked. He raised a hand and tilted her chin up so she looked him in the eye, seeking signs of resistance or reluctance. "What do you to hope to get from it, anyways? It's not a pleasant experience." His father had taken joy at invading his mind—a power play as much as it was a lesson. He didn't regret going through it, but he didn't want to put Yaxley through it if there was another way.
set by lady <3