The Spiny Serpent [Closed ~ Not Hiring]

[MJ Spooks]

Dahlia Vivian Edgeworth
Housewife // The Spiny Serpent // Wearing
CURRENTLY WITH // No one
CURRENTLY FEELING // Angry
CURRENTLY THINKING // 'That foolish, idiot man... he's going soft... must be some insanity in his bloodline...'
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Dahlia entered the store with stiff, angry gestures, her mood dark. Her damned husband was acting like a complete idiot, a nasty change that had become increasingly annoying of late. She'd been stealing their son's letters from his office when he wasn't looking; the brat had befriended the disgusting little halfblood he'd saved first year. How utterly embarrassing for her, to be mother to such a low child! And her husband was hardly any better. He was perfectly happy that their son was turning into a damned muggle loving weakling! The girl is smart, he said, she'll go places, and take our son with her. As if a filthy halfblood could grant their son any benefits his station were lacking. He was a pureblood, from noble lines. She was related to the Malfoys, for God's sake! Though, she hated to admit, they had defected from their purpose some after the fall of the Dark Lord... but that had been about survival, of course, and nothing more. She shuddered, thinking of her own son falling so low as to be friends with a halfblood. Again. The child had a nasty predilection towards them, for some unknown reason. He was weak.

Dahlia shook her head slightly and glanced around the store. She had no idea why she'd come here. She'd felt drawn down the dark alley, pulled by some compulsion, and then, much to her surprise, she'd found a door. Curiously, she'd entered. This was Knockturn Alley, after all. Hidden doors were sure signs of the pureblooded and right-minded individuals who had been cast out by a foolish society that preached equality for all bloodlines. Another thought to make her shudder. She sighed, and began perusing the objects being sold. Briefly, she considered trying to find something to deal with her husband, but thought the better of it. She would, of course, be the first suspect were anything to happen to him. Or her son. Sad but true. If only she could take care fo them both... She fancied the thought of leaving them, but of course never could. The shame of doing such a thing would haunt her forever, unless she found someone to take her in, someone of power, someone to make her husband look like the fool he was. If she could find such a man, she could leave him, and be applauded for moving up in the world. But, she was old, and far from the catch she'd been in her youth. She could bear no more children for heirs, and was no longer pretty enough to be any man's trophy. A sad sigh escaped her lips. Oh, to be young and beautiful once more...

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(( OOC: ))
...

 

[Essy ze Ninja]

That's why I slipped out the back before you knew I was there

And I know the way I left wasn't fair

I didn't want to be around just to bring you down

𝕽emington 𝕵agger 𝕹ott

From the plummeting shadows in the depths, a man rose, manifested through the shadows out of the corner of her eye. He climbed deliberate and purposeful, a cigar hung on his lips and the thick plume of smoke perforated the dingy shop. Golden armor clung to his torso embellished with the grand stature of the English Bullmastiff, the sigil of his house, and draping over his shoulders was an earthen cloak to shield him. Below him, however, a trick step seemed to have given way to a tightly coiled staircase leading down below, a flash of scarlet glow embellished beneath him as the sultry exuberance of aged liquor wafted up from under him, even a chatter of defined laughter reached the midst of Dahlia’s ears from the underground gambling room Remington kept hidden from the keen eye.

He hadn’t at all expected to find someone lurking in his shop while he had been downstairs, or realized that he’d left the door unlocked, either. In any instance, he may have drawn his wand from the paranoid suspicions that he did in fact, lock his door, (which he truly never did.) Seeing her silhouette only made him further his thoughts on security for his shop, after all, there’s much more dwelling here than the occasional cursed artifact, much more. He narrowed those golden eyes to conniving slits, eyes of a rippling golden poison almost tainted black struck her heart and plunged into its depths, raking her of any and all information he might grasp.

He lingered for just the moment, snaking idly away from the spiral staircase while puffing on a cigar and gently swishing a glass of scotch in his free hand. ”My dear,” Remington cooed, his lips dripping with a sweet honey venom, melting with thick viscosity over her flesh. ”Troubles taint you,” he acknowledged, he could taste it on his tongue, and feel it pressing against his mind. ”But you won’t find what you need on display, will you?” He pressed further, divine bliss of voice rolling in the deep, snaking under her flesh and running rampant in her veins.

”Tell me, Miss Edgeworth, what troubles you to me?” He smirked, because he knew. No one came to him willingly, no one came without a story, and no one left without paying a price. He swished his scotch, lounging freely on his ornate wooden desk, the very same from his office in Hogwarts which embodied an enchanted serpent to coil in the wooden structure, to watch and hear when he could not. He was an ambitious man; it was known, his name ventured further in the underground wizarding world than even the famed auror, Mister Harry Potter. He knew all he could about the world around him, forked tongue greedily hissing in the ears of the wealthy and the powerful, his hands in everyone’s back pockets.

╔══════════════╗
38 years old ♛ 6’3” ♛ 194lbs
Location: The Spiny Serpent
Home ♛ Office ♛ Island
╚══════════════╝

 

[MJ Spooks]

Dahlia Vivian Edgeworth
Housewife // The Spiny Serpent // Wearing
CURRENTLY WITH // No one
CURRENTLY FEELING // Offended
CURRENTLY THINKING // 'What on Earth does he know about me?'
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Dahlia turned at the sound of someone entering the room. She hadn't noticed any entrances to the shop other than the door through which she'd entered, but he was not standing near that door. She arched a brow. Curious. Although, not overly surprising. Many shops in Knockturn Alley had hidden doors to hidden rooms, where proper wizards could go to speak of proper things. It was sad, really, how the most pure and noble of their kind were forced to hide in the shadows. But, then, shadows were where ambition thrived, so perhaps it was by design.

When the man addressed her, Dahlia's nostrils flared. "That is Mrs. Edgeworth," she said coldly, her eyes narrowed to a cold stare. She might be married to a fool, but she was married, and that fool was the son of a noble line. She deserved respect, even if he were losing hers. "If you are going to attempt to throw a person off guard by using their name when they haven't given it, you should at least do the research necessary to get their name right." Dahlia wasn't the least surprised by the man knowing her name, even if she was unaware of his. She hadn't cared much to learn the names of anyone not in the Ministry or on the Board with Wesley. Shopkeepers and the like were generally below her notice, not because they were below her per say, but because she had no need to clutter her mind with their names. But, it was her experience that shopkeepers, particularly ones in this area, tended to know more than one would think, about everyone and everything. As for how he knew she was troubled, it was hardly difficult to deduce that. She was aware that she hadn't been very good at keeping her anger in check lately. She regarded the man with a cold, appraising stare. He seemed to carry features of a noble line. Likely he was from an old family. There was something regal about him, and cold. She had a feeling that they were very alike in certain respects, although while he wore his power on his sleeve to intimidate, Dahlia preferred to wear a pretty face and pretend she was nothing more than a housewife, so that those who spoke around her didn't bother to hide their words. She was quite used to being underestimated, and she rather liked it.

"As for what troubles me, I doubt very highly if it matters to you. My troubles are mine. I am here so that I might spend time away from my home, not for counselling or any other form of 'help' that I am sure you will charge outrageous amounts of money for." The man was a merchant, and the laughter wafting up from below told her that there was some kind of establishment below, likely one the man before her owned and managed, with a select clientele of wealthy men and women who didn't care how much money they spent to drown their sorrows for a few hours. The fact that he owned a store above his little speak-easy told her enough about what he was like. His type cared only for two things; power, and the money that gained that power for them.

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(( OOC: ))
...

 

[Essy ze Ninja]

That's why I slipped out the back before you knew I was there

And I know the way I left wasn't fair

I didn't want to be around just to bring you down

𝕽emington 𝕵agger 𝕹ott

”Ah,”he smiled a ghost of a smile; it haunted his pale features like a flickering shadow, or the gleam of light against steel as it clashed against the reflection. A static poison pooled in his golden eyes as he captivated her, narrowing his vision, and staring deeply, until his being manifested in her soul and she could almost taste the smell of his scotch whisky in the back of her throat. ”But of course,” his coiling fingers unwrapped around the dark cigar as he snuffed out the burning red singes into the glass ash tray upon his grand wooden desk. His head raised by increments, as if to look further down on her, further inside of her. His years of training as an Occlumens was a card he pulled quite often from the deck he always stacked in his favor.

”How could I have been so brash as to presume we’ve already met.” At this, that serpentine smile graced his poisonous lips. ”The common people all know who you are, my dear, but what good of grace would it be for you to trouble yourself with the affairs away from the Ministry and the Board of Governors.

“We shopkeepers have an affinity for knowing everything about everyone around here, isn’t that right, Mrs. Edgeworth?” He paused, that growing smile now burning bright as he tried to subdue it with a quick swig from his crystal glass. ”You haven’t done well to keep your anger in check, have you? Not to worry, my dear, that’s of no mar to me.

“You wound me, Mrs. Edgeworth, I would never dream to charge monetary value for something such as help, or favors—that would just be cruel.” She was a feisty one, he could already see it in her eyes, and it lashed out at him more than once already. He wanted to know how much farther he could drive it, moreover, he wanted… more. Not the sort of wanton fire he usually thirsted for (although, he did want that too), but, he wanted to know more, of everything, about her. If it meant riling her up into demanding answers, so much so, that she refuse to leave, well then, so be it.

But if his plan failed, and she turned tail to leave like any true born lady was taught to, then, bloody hell, he was sure he could run faster than her while she was eloquently dressed in those high heeled boots, if it came down to it.

╔══════════════╗
38 years old ♛ 6’3” ♛ 194lbs
Location: The Spiny Serpent
Home ♛ Office ♛ Island
╚══════════════╝

 

[MJ Spooks]

Dahlia Vivian Edgeworth
Housewife // The Spiny Serpent // Wearing
CURRENTLY WITH // No one
CURRENTLY FEELING // Offended
CURRENTLY THINKING // 'What on Earth does he know about me?'
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When he spoke next, Dahlia arched a brow to keep her shock in check. True, she hadn't been overly cautious with keeping her feelings to herself, but he'd basically repeated her exact thoughts back to her. For a moment, she was confused... and then she felt rather foolish. Shopkeepers were patrons of learning all they could about anyone who walked through their door, by whatever means necessary and possible, to ensure that they walked out after having spent as much money as possible. This particular merchant was clearly from an old family, and clearly very sharp. It should hardly surprise her that he would be skilled in Occlumens. What better way to weasel a man out of his savings than to know exactly what would make him buy as much of what he didn't need as possible? Knowing how people tick was the key to sales. Being able to read a person's mind was obviously the best way to learn such things about a stranger.

Logic dictated that she should leave. After all, she was at an obvious disadvantage when dealing with him. He would already know everything about her, while she struggled to interpret his every word and action. But... she was intrigued. He was cold, and aloof, and very obviously enjoyed worming his way into people and manipulating them. Much like she did. She might have trouble with her anger of late, but it was only because of Wesley... that damned idiot. So, she took a breath and regarded the man before her with her usual cold demeanor. "You're quite right. I do rarely bother with anything other than my home and the Board and Ministry. So, since you are so aware of that fact, perhaps you could be so kind as to offer your own name? Since you clearly know mine so well."

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(( OOC: ))
...

[  

[Essy ze Ninja]

That's why I slipped out the back before you knew I was there

And I know the way I left wasn't fair

I didn't want to be around just to bring you down

𝕽emington 𝕵agger 𝕹ott

”You’re quite right,” the words flowed soft and ambient, like music to his ears. A slow, carnal smile wove on his lips spun by silken lies and it was all he could do not to dance in utter delight of how simply he’d already crawled under her skin; moreover, the utter biting chill of armor that she held so composed, almost unlike any he’d ever seen before. A particular bout of curiosity curled his tongue behind his cheek as narrowed eyes like golden slits stole up and down her form. But still, he smiled, tilted his head down, a subconscious note of subservience he tended to avoid as much as possible, and brought calloused fingers to graze the scruff of his jawline, teasing his chin in deep thought, almost as if he were considering actually not telling her.

A fact to be taken aback by any who truly knew him.

”Remington Nott, of course,” he admitted without missing a beat, voice rumbling like a sinister growl for just that moment. ”Do you drink, Mrs. Edgeworth?” He pondered curiously, his fingers tapping against the crystal glass still held captive in his hand. ”Probably not, I’d assume. You look like the sort of cunning woman who prefers to keep her mind sharp, aren’t you?” This time, he had no use of his skill, and discarded it altogether entirely, now that he had her attention. ”In any case, how rude of a man would I be if didn’t at least offer?

“I tend to find that people wander around here when they don’t know where else to go… Stay a while, I promise I won’t disappoint… However, I’ll understand if you’ve pressing business elsewhere, after all, the duties of a housewife never cease.” He praised her, or was he mocking her? It was hard to tell as he tipped his head to her and raised his glance in recognition. However, he spun on his heel, leaving himself quite vulnerable as he kicked the heel of his dragonhide boots against the floorboards and activated the entrance to the spiral staircase leading down to the elegant underground room. Where he hoped to find her behind him.

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38 years old ♛ 6’3” ♛ 194lbs
Location: The Spiny Serpent
Home ♛ Office ♛ Island
╚══════════════╝

show spoilerhide spoiler

Cara MiaKitty

 

[MJ Spooks]

Dahlia Vivian Edgeworth
Housewife // The Spiny Serpent // Wearing
CURRENTLY WITH // No one
CURRENTLY FEELING // Offended
CURRENTLY THINKING // 'What on Earth does he know about me?'
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Remington Nott... well, that explained a lot. The Notts were notorious for their predilection to the dark arts. They were an old family, and a pure one at that. She offered a smile, this one a couple degrees warmer than her previous ones. When he offered her a drink, and subsequently predicted that she would decline, she fought the urge to snort. As if a woman in her position could afford to avoid libations. Drinking was a social exercise, and she was a social creature by design and necessity. The trick was not to avoid drinking; it was to look like you were drinking enough to be drunk, while in fact only taking a few sips.

When he brought light to her lack of career, her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. It had sounded like a compliment, but spoke of an insult. There were few who would take the title of housewife seriously. She didn't really take it seriously, herself. But then, she was hardly a housewife when one looked beneath the surface. Housewives were dull creatures, cleaning and caring for their brats all day. She had House-Elves for such things. Rather, she spent her days snooping through the news, through her husband's correspondences with the other Governors, through any bit of information she could get her hands on that would increase her knowledge of the world around her. She knew far more than any simple housewife would ever know. And so, she was able to brush off the insult. It didn't really apply to her, after all.

When he disappeared through his secret door and down his staircase, she had a moment of doubt. Should she follow him, and prove that she, in fact, had nothing better to do, or did she leave, and risk losing the opportunity to pick his brain? Of course, she really didn't have anything to do; her errands were run, and all that awaited her was her dreaded home. She shook her head and made up her mind then. She had no desire to return to that awful place. She followed him down to the room, her eyes roving across it. It was... quaint. Rather like a speakeasy, as she'd expected. But with a dark touch to it... she couldn't complain. "If the offer of a drink was genuine, I would gladly take one. As I'm sure you've surmised, I've been having a long day... for the past several months." One of the keys to gaining ground was often to give a little. He already thought he was entirely in control... and perhaps he was. But whoever said she didn't want it that way? People said the most interesting things when they were in charge.

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(( OOC: ))
...

 

[Essy ze Ninja]

That's why I slipped out the back before you knew I was there

And I know the way I left wasn't fair

I didn't want to be around just to bring you down

𝕽emington 𝕵agger 𝕹ott

The heel of Remington’s pristinely polished dragon hide boots activated the trip step magically infused within the building, and, would disappear behind them without a trace. The floor boards gave way in the heart of the room, and beneath all of the artifacts and scriptures a spiral staircase lead down to a floor below that was not known to most. Though the stairs had been riddled with cobwebs and dust, filthy from the grit and grime glory of the shop above head, it had breathed life into a new world, all its own.

Like a depicted movie fabled out of the roaring twenties, the underground room had been lavishly restored, with antique pieces exclusively imported from New Orleans, New York City, and Atlantic City, from the United States. Rich hues of scarlet and plum decorated the rich ambiance of the vicinity. More people flocked to the scene than ever would have been imaginable, each of the fabulously garbed patrons had been drowning under their own vice and virtues, but, each and every one of them had been able to pause to offer the luxurious smile and wave of greeting. Tobacco smoke and exuberating scent of finely aged liquor feverishly roared the room into a spitfire round of accusations, dirty looks, and suggestive flirtation. Quickly, they turned to one another in a bout of laughter, losing themselves, and leaving the owner and his newest acquaintance in solace.

As much as the snake of a man wanted to pry, as much as he wanted the flick that forked tongue of his and coax her with the poison to leak truths… He refrained. ”Certainly,” he tilted his head, a notion to indulge herself in the comforts of the lavish leather armchair decorated with intricate serpents on its sweeping arm rests. ”You need only pick your poison.” He gestured with a smile, the myriad assortment of bottles stored against the high wall for display.

╔══════════════╗
38 years old ♛ 6’3” ♛ 194lbs
Location: The Spiny Serpent
Home ♛ Office ♛ Island
╚══════════════╝

 

[MJ Spooks]

Dahlia Vivian Edgeworth
Housewife // The Spiny Serpent // Wearing
CURRENTLY WITH // Remington
CURRENTLY FEELING // Coy
CURRENTLY THINKING // 'How... predictable.'
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Dahlia gave Remington a coy smile, her eyes sparking. Something had changed... where before he was putting it all out there in an attempt to goad her, he now seemed to be holding something back. Some words he'd chosen not to say... interesting. She looked over the bottles he'd indicated. He'd assumed before that she drank fine wines, and while she did have a taste for the finer things, wine was not always one of them. It didn't have the burn she liked. "Would I be correct in assuming your offerings are all top shelf? If so, I would love a Scotch."

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(( OOC: ))
...

 

[Essy ze Ninja]

That's why I slipped out the back before you knew I was there

And I know the way I left wasn't fair

I didn't want to be around just to bring you down

𝕽emington 𝕵agger 𝕹ott

”Would you expect any less?” The poison dripped from honey coated words as he cooed a sinister growl, his fingers hovering over delicate glass until he wrapped his hand around the neck of an exquisite, and expensive bottle. If she was at all canny with her scotch whisky, she’d spot the Port Ellen label on the bottle and recognize it as a distillery no longer in operation. In short, once the few bottles lingering are the world are all drank up—there will be no more.

”Straight, on the rocks, coconut water, perhaps?” He didn’t have to ask, he rarely ever did, and times like these, the human thought spoke nothing louder than the obvious. But he didn’t want to much control, not yet anyway.

”I have to ask,” Remington proceeded as soon as Dahlia had replied, and he swept towards her silently, gliding on winds with an ethereal and dastardly grace unknown to man. When he reached her, he held out the crystal glass of scotch to her and spoke the instance her fingers graced the static cold glass. ”What made you decide to join me?” It was an innocent enough question, at least, in comparison to anything else the snake in wheat grass had spoken thus far.

╔══════════════╗
38 years old ♛ 6’3” ♛ 194lbs
Location: The Spiny Serpent
Home ♛ Office ♛ Island
╚══════════════╝

 

[MJ Spooks]

Dahlia Vivian Edgeworth
Housewife // The Spiny Serpent // Wearing
CURRENTLY WITH // Remington
CURRENTLY FEELING // Coy
CURRENTLY THINKING // 'How... predictable.'
═════════════════════════════════

Dahlia's eyes lighted on the bottle he selected, a smile warming her cold expression. He'd offer up such a rare treat to a woman he'd just met? Oh, he was good. He was also testing her. He wanted to know if the request for scotch was impulse, or if she actually drank it. She'd rarely been pegged as a scotch drinker in the past; something about her breeding and sophistication told people she was all wine and brandy. She delighted in proving people wrong. One of her few small joys in life. She arched a brow at the bottle and gave a coy smile. "Port Ellen? Usually people reserve such things for special occasions." She personally had two bottles residing in a hidden panel in her bar at home. She doubted if even Wesley knew about it; she'd made the panel herself, after all. "Straight, if you please. I don't particularly care for coconut water." In truth, she couldn't stand the stuff. Or really anything that people added to whiskey to water it down.

At his question, she flipped her hair over her shoulder and looked into his eyes, her own questing, mischievous. "As I said, I've been having a bit of a rough patch at home. I've finished what few errands I had to run and am in no hurry to return there. I thought a drink or two might be nice. The last time I bothered with having one, I was in my own home, alone, and rather bored. At least if I share one with you, I have someone to talk to." That was rather flighty of her to say... but honest. She recalled drinking with Wesley in the past, when she'd been unaware of his defect. It had been pleasant; she'd thought they were such a good match. Alas, she'd been wrong. Now, he barely shared a room with her, let alone a drink or conversation. So, she'd been forced to entertain herself... she was hardly a drunkard, but it was so much easier to enjoy the little things when she had imbibed a bit of choice whiskey.

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(( OOC: ))
...

 

[Essy ze Ninja]

That's why I slipped out the back before you knew I was there

And I know the way I left wasn't fair

I didn't want to be around just to bring you down

𝕽emington 𝕵agger 𝕹ott

”Heh,” he chuckled, in the barest sense. ”Every day is a special occasion, you’re not always promised another.” He explained keenly, his golden eyes meticulously kept the ferocity of his gaze upon her, even as he recklessly poured a glass without a single glance, and yet, hadn’t haphazardly spilled even a simple drop as he handed it to her. Without hesitation, grace had dropped him leisurely in the plush comfort of a leather armchair beside Dahlia.

”Ah, the woes of life,” his forked tongue hissed and breathed poison into the world, spinning webs of riddles and lies. ”Many for few, and few for the many.” He smirked, raising his glass that he’d placed down on the table earlier for a silent cheer while he childishly leapt from one riddle to the next. ”But all in good time.

“After all, it never hurt to have a high friend in low places.” He smirked, barely missing a beat as he moved on, shifting a bare inch closer to her to captivate his attention upon only her.

”Tell me Dahlia,” he proceeded to ask, his gold eyes peering dangerously over the rim of his crystal glass while the charmed serpent carved into the arm holder of his chair hissed and began to skate over the wooden furnishing as if it had breathed to life. ”What do you cherish most in life?” It was an eerie question, one that told more truths no matter what lies were lurched forth.

╔══════════════╗
38 years old ♛ 6’3” ♛ 194lbs
Location: The Spiny Serpent
Home ♛ Office ♛ Island
╚══════════════╝

 

[MJ Spooks]

Dahlia Vivian Edgeworth
Housewife // The Spiny Serpent // Wearing
CURRENTLY WITH // Remington
CURRENTLY FEELING // Coy
CURRENTLY THINKING // 'How... predictable.'
═════════════════════════════════

Dahlia wanted to scoff and his quote of the day-sounding comment, but held it back. It wouldn't do to insult her gracious host, after all. She supposed that, at heart, what he said was true, though in times like these, times of such peaceful cohabitation with the filth, it was highly unlikely any harm should befall anyone of her station. She was neither sick nor old, and it seemed that the righteous were the only ones brave enough to attack those opposing them. One so rarely heard of a halfblood or a mudblood attacking a pureblood, after all. Hence, she hardly thought much of his words. At their base, they might ring true, but... she felt rather safe in her own life at the moment.

His next words, however, intrigued her. Many for the few, and few for the many? A small riddle, and one that could mean many things. She pursed her lips a moment before taking another drink of her scotch. He was a clever man, and one she might do well to befriend. He was fascinating at the least. He could be a powerful ally at the most. And it was always good to have a surplus of powerful allies. In this day and age, it was so easy to find one's self lacking. After all, most people who should be in a position like hers had become so woefully complacent of the lower breeds. Disgusting. She gave a small smirk and toasted him in return, not to his own toast, but to the words that followed, mirroring her thoughts. Or reading them. Whatever the case may be. Either way, he was a cunning snake.

When he posed his question, her lips pursed once more, but this time, into a smile, small and coy, almost seductive. This man... even in such a low place, he clearly held power. It leeched off of him in waves. If only she'd met him before she'd married Wesley... or at least someone like him. She considered his question carefully... what did she cherish most? At a time, it might of been her son, simply for the fact that he was her offspring, the one who would carry her noble line on, along with his fathers. Now... now she didn't know. She was at a crossroads. Still, there must be something she held dear, right? She offered a smile, her eyes lighting. "I cherish... my name. And my blood." Her name was power, and blood was life. She needed both to be happy. Power was all there was, and pointless to possess in death. Voldemort's name might still carry meaning, but he certainly didn't get to enjoy it.

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(( OOC: ))
...

 

[Essy ze Ninja]

That's why I slipped out the back before you knew I was there

And I know the way I left wasn't fair

I didn't want to be around just to bring you down

𝕽emington 𝕵agger 𝕹ott

A lingering silence ensued, swirling delicately in the room and wafting in with the toxic plume of cigar smoke and the chord of bitter alcohol stringing an intoxicated melody of enchantment in the air. He swirled the contents of his drink easily, the swish of the scotch sung in his ears with grace as his mind toiled away behind crypts and secrets. Of course she was going to be coy, she was a pureblood elitist, he shouldn’t have been surprised in the slightest, and yet, for some reason, he still was.

After all, it wasn’t very long that most dames in his presence would be keen to settle with indulgences of liquor, which, in any case, didn’t lead to their own brand of indulgence. She was far too poised, for that, he reflected, but maybe if he could sink those claws into that cold heart of hers, he might find something hot and full of carnal blood, and maybe if he teased it just right, he might find an inkling of those emotions on her pure, pale aristocratic smile…

But enough of that for now… ”So you cherish power?” He blinked; he always found it most amusing to state the obvious in times like these. ”As do I.” But at least, he reasoned, he offered up the truth as well. ”Power, and purity,” he nodded absentmindedly, as if nodding along to every thought and ideal that any purebloodist was born with. ”….Though so very rare these days.”

”But do you know what I love most?” A smirk lurched to his lips, carving darkness into the flesh of his jaw, chiseled with the line of scruff that trickled up his cheek and down his neck. ”I love the struggle for power,” he admitted, his gold eyes narrowing and glazed, as if thrusting himself into a different world where spiders webs were made of steel, and castles were simply sand.

”And I do so love winning.” There was no callously arrogant smirk or a haunting, poisonous smile; was there even any pride in his words? It was so very hard to tell. If anything, what he said, had been stated, simple and true, a fact, and nothing more.

╔══════════════╗
38 years old ♛ 6’3” ♛ 194lbs
Location: The Spiny Serpent
Home ♛ Office ♛ Island
╚══════════════╝

 

[MJ Spooks]

Dahlia Vivian Edgeworth
Housewife // The Spiny Serpent // Wearing
CURRENTLY WITH // Remington
CURRENTLY FEELING // Coy
CURRENTLY THINKING // 'How... predictable.'
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Dahlia offered Remington a toast when he translated her words. Power, yes. She swirled the scotch remaining in her glass and then gave it a glance. Such a nice burn, so smooth and harsh at the same time. Like the man before her. Like herself. Using the mask of that sweet, smooth taste to hide the strength. The power. She watched the liquid swirl a moment longer before finishing her drink and setting the glass on the bar. "Power and purity, yes. Both are of great value to me... at a time, they were the only thing of value... so many people have forgotten that. A shame, really." A shame that was compounded by the fact that for every person who held power and purity, and still held it in esteem, there were hordes of people who chose to ignore their place. And society let them. A shame indeed.

She listened intently as he carried their little game on, hiding her smirk when he confirmed her own beliefs about him. So, just as she'd thought, it wasn't about the power itself; it was about gaining it. A worthy cause, she thought. Especially now, when those who should be revered as leaders of their kind were forced to hide in the shadows, lest the filth ever learn what they truly think. With numbers so low, and personalities so complacent, how could the rightful leaders ever hope to lead? Disgusting, really, that they would allow it, but it is what it is. Still, it was nice to find someone who still had the drive to fight. Even if he did consider it a game. "Might makes right," she said simply. After all, what was the point of having power if you never did anything with it?

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(( OOC: ))
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