alfons marcusflint head potioneer of the most extraordinary society of potioneers
I came to gaze upon the stars, when they were yet unborn And consequently, tear at my old scars, and the mask I had outworn Grow me a garden of roses Paint me the colors of sky and rain but healing doesn't seem to happen when you hide away the seed And so I came across the medicine man, and he showed me what I'd forlorn For if I'm stayed it happens by my own hand, and my own voice full of scorn Teach me to speak with their voices Show me the way and I'll try again
- -Strings of thoughts twanged and voiced themselves, making noises not unlike those they would if fingers ran over them - instead it was red wine dripping from these lines. Intoxicating only the air with its fermentation of another kind, and the air intoxicating everything else. No damage caused by the wine, it would plea. And yet, and yet.
The Medicine man nodded his head - bowing it at an angle that hid his skeptical brow - at Nott's affirmative words. Thoughts immediately coming in laughter to the illusion Remington's words spun of Krina's dance with his family's dust collector. In every scheme they had managed to unravel - before or after her execution - the pensive never seemed to hold a part. Not even an interest. If Krina really had taken it, which Affons knew she must have, she took it for taking's sake. And so it was gone and swallowed by the world. He hoped some Muggle would have an interesting find of it one day.
Then the following blows stole his attention back; took away the amusement he was desperately trying to create for himself as they both worked to strip it away with every breath. Alfons suddenly found himself strangely stagnant. He found himself unsure of what response he had expected. He wondered why this hadn't been an element of this conversation he had thought over when every other tiny detail had been. Down to the characteristic darkening of Remington's eyes, Alfons Flint had practically scripted this entire visit. A few improvisations had been required but everything danced regardless. Every thought, every request and every fall of an eyelash onto an unexpectedly hard cheek. Matched to pitch, matched to beat, everything worked like clockwork and here the man stood; the man of equations and quantities with a breath that could create and fingers that could destroy and he stood stagnant and stiff. Perhaps it had been too clear that it hadn't needed to be considered: Remy's response. Of course he wanted this, of course he wanted to respect her. Show her a mourning that she, in every way, did deserve. Petals on her eyes and arms crossed over her chest like she used those forces to protect herself against the cruelties of life rather than command them. And then relief, as these thoughts one by one passed in the man's mind: at least Remy did not want cremation.
Alfons would have been terrified of a rebirth.
Perhaps Remy was too.
The man that stood before him had been the one that had always fought, crushed, hunted and twisted against him in the way's of this woman. Awaited his mistakes and flaws and reveled in his own lack of them in comparison. He had had his wife more times than Alfons. Touched her, kissed her, understood her more times than Alfons. The Flint may have the freckles in her green eyes desperately memorized but Remy had managed to keep her. Even if only for a few moments at a time. When Alfons Flint never could. What strange ghosts one does conjure and breath out in the course of their lives. How amusing.
Krina would soon meet his father, and they could speak. Speak of the louse who wants to respect her even in her flaws and crushing grip, and of the maggot who wished to kill her once again while spilling tears only for her.
"Right," Alfons said with a nod, turning to meet eyes that he never really turned away from, with a smile genuinely touching his lips. "I think I have over stayed my welcome, thank you so much for having me. I am, again, sorry for forcing myself on you without notice." With movements swift he retrieved the few affects he had left away from his person, moving towards the door and away from Remington having a word in, "Good night Remy, and to your daughter as well." He smiled again, leaving. - -
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
π½emington π΅agger πΉott
He nodded, stern and despondent, carved motions grated in the chiseled stone that reflected his every features with statuesque grace. Aubergine waves of pain and anguish rolled in the deep, stirring the black waters that had once been so still. Stiff, he could feel the convulsions in his muscles, tensing and writhing and dwelling in the memories of her. But sheβs gone, gods, how can she truly be gone. He couldnβt believe it; he didnβt believe it, not until heβd seen it. Not until he felt the cold, dead kiss of her painted lips against his fingers. There had been a time, once, where sheβd been the only thing that kept him alive.
Heβd barely even heard the departed words of Alfons Flint, nor the apology, or affection, what little that left traces there. But he had heard the door close with soft thump and click as it shut firmly. Would he bury her? Would he burn her? What in the world would he do?
Only time would tell.
But the night was soon upon him, and his dear precious flower would need her sleep.
ββββββββββββββββ 39 years old β 6β3β β 194lbs Location: Home Home β Office β Island ββββββββββββββββ
Dahlia Vivian Edgeworth Former Slytherin // Housewife & Socialite // WearingatRemington's Loftspace CURRENTLY // single // crushing // married to my husband, Wesley Jacksonspaces CURRENTLY WITH // No onespacesp CURRENTLY FEELING // Fumingspacespa CURRENTLY THINKING // 'He thinks I'm having an affair? Fine, then, I will.spacespac Never let it be said that I allowed myself to be wrongfully accused of anything.spacespac βββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββ
Dahlia Vivian Edgeworth stood at the entrance to Remington's home, her eyebrow cocked, her anger simmering just below the surface. Perhaps she was acting impulsively, responding to her husband's foolish and cruel words, but she didn't care. She was sick of that home, sick of that man, and sick of her horrid son and his defectiveness. She didn't bother knocking, all to aware that, if she simply waited, Remington would answer. So she stood, her pose angry, but coy. This wasn't a game with Remington anymore. This was revenge against her husband. Wesley thought she was having an affair? Fine, then. She would. Served him right for his idiocy. Remington was merely the tool she was using for it. She doubted he'd mind much; actually, knowing him, it'd probably amuse him greatly to find her on his doorstep with such intentions. So she smiled, and waited. She had no doubt that, at the very least, he'd appreciate her attire. A little more revealing and less regal than her usual dress, but it served her purpose well.
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 haunting melody strung a somber chord inside of Remington Nottβs room. Lazy gold eyes had flickered to its source, the enchanted violin heβd bought from Soren Valentine, years ago, back when heβd ran Dominic Maestroβs. Idly, he had to dwell on whatever happened to the young man, last heβd heard, the shop had been buried under dustβuntil just recently of course. The spiders pricked their webs and the crows heeded their call with warning, there was a stir in that shop as of late. Perhaps someone had bought it?
Not that that mattered, however, because he was still in the shadowy recesses of his mind, calculating. Who would be at this doorstep so late that the violin would sound their entrance long before any knock would, but, most peculiar, there was never a knock to be heard.
His daughter was tucked in her own bedroom, fast asleep and a shine with innocence. Though paranoia had bade him to seize his wand tucked under his pillow and rise from the bed he drowned in each and every night. Only the swish of the fabric of his slacks would mar his silent steps through the hall and then into the mouth of the foyer that spread open into the sitting room. He passed the grand piano on his way to the door, nearly tripped on the stuffed toy unicorn that Cassandra must have brushed aside while she should have been cleaning. He nearly cursed too, and had almost forgotten why heβd strolled so far away from the comfort of his bed. The door swung and his breath was caught in his throat. The warm summer air trickled over the bare flesh of his chest as he eyed her up and down in slow, ravaging sweeps. βDahliaβ¦ I daresay, what a pleasant surprise.β And that twinkle in his eyes bled more truths than his flesh ever could. "Please... Come in."
ββββββββββββββββ 39 years old β 6β3β β 194lbs His doorstep with Dahlia Home β Office β Island ββββββββββββββββ
Dahlia Vivian Edgeworth Former Slytherin // Housewife & Socialite // WearingatRemington's Loftspace CURRENTLY // single // crushing // married to my husband, Wesley Jacksonspaces CURRENTLY WITH // No onespacesp CURRENTLY FEELING // Fumingspacespa CURRENTLY THINKING // 'He thinks I'm having an affair? Fine, then, I will.spacespac Never let it be said that I allowed myself to be wrongfully accused of anything.spacespac βββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββ
Dahlia entered his home with a catlike grace, tossing her long blonde hair over her shoulder to spread the scent of her perfume through the air, her unusually short dress clinging to her every movement. She looked around the room, noting the signs that, much to her surprise, Remington had a child. A daughter. How interesting. But not even remotely related to why she was here at such a late hour. She raked Remington with a fierce gaze, noting his lack of attire. She smiled, somewhat amused. How perfect. So how should she play this? Again, sure that Remington would find the entire situation more amusing than anything else, and be more than happy to oblige her, she opted for the truth. Besides, his reaction to her putting something so bluntly would be priceless, she was sure. He, like her, wasn't used to speaking without coding his every word, and was equally unused to her doing so."My husband, in an attempt to insinuate that I had no room call our son's actions shameful, has accused me of having an affair with you."She stepped in close to Remington, her eyes playful, but dark."Never let it be said I allowed myself to be wrongfully accused of anything."She thought about kissing him, not allowing a moment for discussion, but held back. What would he say? What would he do? As much as she wanted to use him as a pawn in her petty revenge scheme, she did still enjoy the game. It would be a shame to give the entire thing up just because of her idiot of a husband.
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
"Is that so?" The conniving drawl of his lip curled into a smirk with the quick snap of a whip. Hungry eyes took greed in the soft contours of voluptuous ivory flesh as she stole a daring step closer to him, the flash of the hunt sparked wild in her eyes and a shiver ran down his spine. A delight tempted carnal demons to come out and play. Gold eyes sparkled fierce as he narrowed the distance and left barely a breath of air between them. He struck like a viper and captured the bone of her jaw with possessive fingers, this memory burning in him. "Remind me to thank that fool of a husband of yours," the low growl teased the air, clawing wanton at her flesh.
Only a moment lingered between and it was only just long enough to ensnare that look from her, that surprise, or was it a knowing glint in her eye? It was too soon to decipher-- but it wasn't what mattered. His lips dominated hers in haste and relished in the grace of this twist in the plot he'd never expected. A free hand slid in long blonde tresses and invoked that sweet scent to swirl, and now, it was her move.
ββββββββββββββββ 39 years old β 6β3β β 194lbs Sitting Room with Dahlia Home β Office β Island ββββββββββββββββ
Dahlia Vivian Edgeworth Former Slytherin // Housewife & Socialite // WearingatRemington's Loftspace CURRENTLY // single // crushing // married to my husband, Wesley Jacksonspaces CURRENTLY WITH // No onespacesp CURRENTLY FEELING // Fumingspacespa CURRENTLY THINKING // 'He thinks I'm having an affair? Fine, then, I will.spacespac Never let it be said that I allowed myself to be wrongfully accused of anything.spacespac βββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββ
Dahlia's lips curled in a smile as she kissed him back, delighting in his reaction. She'd expected him to acquiesce, but to seem so eager to do so... it was invigorating. She broke the kiss and bit her lip like a blushing school girl, though she hadn't been as such in... ever, actually. Even when she had been a school girl, she'd never been the sort to blush and bit her lips. But in spite of her shy expression, her eyes were coy. It was merely a mask, meant to tease. She looked him in the eyes and purred,"A lovely start, really, but if I'm to truly insult my husband, there are better places to do such things."The not-at-all subtle hint hung in the air, awaiting the answering invitation to the bedroom. If Wesley thought she were spending time between another man's sheets, she damn well would. Besides... nothing had ever felt so good as to spurn that fool of a man. And really, Remington was such a lovely tool to use for such things... she looked him over with a smile. Really, she couldn't have chosen a better person to spend time with. She couldn't think of anyone else she'd rather enact this little revenge with.
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
Remington had always been a man of carnal temptation; if there was any one thing he'd learned, it was that he was powerless against himself. Sinful pleasures were a song sung too sweetly to ignore. And now, this? A hollow laugh echoed. Before the last note fell and hit the floor with a crash, eager hands explored. Thick, robust arms cradled her, first the small of her back and then under her knees to suspend her in his arms. "Heh, you don't have to tell me twice." And he was right.... to an extent. He did so love to hear them beg.
In the end, he'd always known he'd get what he wanted. This was unexpected, but nonetheless pleasant all the same. Lithe steps carried her quickly down the hall and past the bemused portraits of aristocrats that hung upon the walls into the heart of his bedroom adorned in rich dark woods and deep gold fabrics of the comforter, curtains, and cushioned armchair. In passionate fury, he'd thrown her upon the clouds of silk as the door swung to a quiet close. And all in one, he pounced, greedy, with lips tangled and hands in tangent.
[Time Skip?]
ββββββββββββββββ 39 years old β 6β3β β 194lbs Sitting Room with Dahlia Home β Office β Island ββββββββββββββββ
Dahlia Vivian Edgeworth Former Slytherin // Housewife & Socialite // WearingatRemington's Loftspace CURRENTLY // single // crushing // married to my husband, Wesley Jacksonspaces CURRENTLY WITH // No onespacesp CURRENTLY FEELING // Fumingspacespa CURRENTLY THINKING // 'He thinks I'm having an affair? Fine, then, I will.spacespac Never let it be said that I allowed myself to be wrongfully accused of anything.spacespac βββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββ
Dahlia delighted in this turn of events, and couldn't contain her pleasure at being carried. She'd never really been made to feel like a dainty woman, being taller than many of the men her age and too imposing of a figure to inspire such actions. She smiled widely as he carried her to his room. Such a wonderful turn of events. She almost wanted to thank her fool of a husband for sending her into Remington's arms. Almost. But, she admitted to herself that perhaps she was simply using Wesley's accusation as an excuse to do something she'd wanted since she'd first met Remington... perhaps.
In fact, the only real difference this morning, from last night, with the exception of the missing owner, was the eloquently placed champagne glasses side by side, the bottle of Italian wine, and then paired with the doting bite sizes of caviar that lingered on crystal plates.
Just outside the door, a small commotion echoed against the walls through the halls of the loft. The voices were muffled but the distinct ring of a little girls high pitched laugh sung through the barrier. The splash of water churned in tune, and before much else could be deduced, Remingtonβs footsteps echoed in the distance and grew louder with every step as he made his way back towards Dahlia. Curiosity utmost peaked, he wondered if sheβd apparate away now, or wait for him to come back first?
Dahlia is...spacespacespacespace CURRENTLY // WearingatRemington's Flatspace CURRENTLY // single // crushing // married to my husband, Wesley Jackson // cheating with Remington Nottspaces CURRENTLY WITH // No onespacesp CURRENTLY FEELING // Satisfiedspacespa CURRENTLY THINKING // 'What a perfectly lovely little revenge... and it will eat Wesley up.'spacespac 'You belong to me, my snow white queen. There's nowhere to run, so let's just get it over it.' βββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββ
Dahlia awoke in a strange bed, not entirely sure where she was for the first few moments. She lifted herself up from the bed, looking around for the answer. Her sleep-hazed mind didn't quite manage to piece together the information she needed for a minute or two. When it finally occurred to her, she smiled, laying her head back down with a small chuckle. She noticed the platter laying on the bedside table, and her eyebrow arched, somewhat amused. She was alone, but the two glasses indicated that he intended to return. She heard the laughter and the splashes, and determined that he must be getting his daughter up and ready for the day.
His daughter. What an odd thought. She chuckled again, deciding to wait for his return to both indulge herself and begin making herself decent. After the events of last night, there was really no need to worry about it in front of him. And surely the man wouldn't bring the child into his bedroom while a woman waited there. So, there was no need for her to even move. And she certainly wouldn't be leaving just yet. Returning home to her husband was sure to be torturous. She wasn't keen on doing it quite yet. Perhaps she'd wait until he was leaving for work. Arrive home at just that moment, pass him on the way in the door. Really shove it in his face. That sounded lovely to her. Incredibly satisfying. So, she leaned back in the bed, her eyes on the door, waiting for the footsteps that drew ever nearer to arrive at the door, and for Remington to enter.
βββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββ 'Soon, I know you'll see you're just like me.'
(( OOC: )) ...
Essy ze Ninja
Posted: Wed Jul 10, 2013 11:08 am
Footsteps had been slow and meaningfully placed as they climbed the few stairs that led to the hall of the loft desired. Draped in a an ordinary, if not tattered, traveling cloak whose ends billowed around the ankles as they carried the steps, the figure hesitated faced with the door it knew was the destination. In the right arm was a package. Securely held tight and wrapped in brown, boring paper, too evident of its own importance. With a caught breath that the silent walls of the building did not echo, a hand was raised and its knuckles knocked on the door. The wood of the entryway rang with the resulting noise, emerging just as the laughter of a child did on the other side. At this, the figure's hesitation and tenseness suddenly became called for - confusion wandering as did the mind for if the address that was finely scribbed on the parchment in the vacant hand was the correct one. Now the waiting became bearable; the door would open and either apologies would be offered and potentially a correct address would be given, or the face of Remington Nott with his familiar golden eyes would peer with some form of emotion. Waiting now for both the sound of steps that meant the knock had been heard, and for the door to be opened, the figure stood.
i know this is kind of a sudden and unscripted interruption of a post, but i wanted to see what the interaction would be like if it was a bit more natural (having a character come that is at a surprising and inconvenient time for another. If it is too out of place, please just tell me and i will quickly delete it! Hope I am not intruding too much smile
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
Those footsteps had echoed louder, but a disturbance struck with idle discord. With fingers inches from his bedroom door, he was forced to stop. There was a knock, and at this hour, he couldnβt begin to imagine who would stray so far from the sanctity of their comfort to seek him out here, now. An irritable growl sifted impatiently, and all Dahlia would have been able to hear were his receding footsteps now gliding down the narrow hall past the tapestry of his ancestors and the portraits of Nottβs long past. Bare chest and bare feet lingered and wondered what it was that was on the other side of the doorwayβ¦
Could it have been the Hogwarts Governor, Wesley? No, somehow, even with titles and prestige, he had the sickening pit in his stomach that the man wasnβt foolish enough to knock and give him time to retaliate. No, heβd have come blazing doors down, wouldnβt he? Hmm, at least, he could only assume as such. Love or not, pride and jealousy were suck fickle things, werenβt they?
Stillβ¦ He hadnβt gotten so far by being trusting. So he summoned his wand to his hand, summoned his robes implanted with simply enchanted armor, nothing too imperviousβhe just had a disdain for being set on fire, to be true.
Slow and silent, Remington urged the door to slide to an open to reveal the scarce shadows of his features darkened by the stubble that crawled under his chin. Sharp and deceitful eyes of mossy gold glinted against the sudden burst of light that filtered through. Silence, it lingered, and in the deepest recesses, he hoped Dahlia wasnβt one for curiosity as all the others usually had been. ββ¦β¦what.β
ββββββββββββββββ 39 years old β 6β3β β 194lbs In the doorway, just waiting, Home β Office β Island ββββββββββββββββ
Cara MiaKitty
βPale Mistβ
Posted: Fri Jul 19, 2013 7:41 am
phinelia von ichval apprentice - potioneer flint family - daughter ex - ravenclaw β¬β¬β¬β¬β¬β¬β¬β¬β¬β¬β¬β¬β¬β¬β¬β¬β¬ β¬β¬β¬β¬β¬β¬ β¬β¬ βIn the country of the blind, the one-eyed man is king.β β Desiderius Erasmus βThe haft of the arrow had been feathered with one of the eagleβs own plumes. We often give our enemies the means of our own destruction.β β Aesop βThere is only one good, knowledge, and one evil, ignorance.β β Socrates βIf the brain were so simple we could understand it, we would be so simple we couldnβt.β β Lyall Watson
As the door clicked, signalling its opening, the hooded figure reached up and pulled down the obscuring cloak. Just as the door swung open, revealing Remington Nott, so did the hood of the cloak, revealing Phinelia von Ichval. Or was it Flint, now? At the sudden vision of her once-professor standing with confusion, Phi found a stutter lodged in her throat. She swallowed it down quickly, trying to force herself to meet the golden eyes that she was worried she would be seeing a bit too often soon enough. "Hello Prof- er, Mr. Remington Nott, I hope I am not disturbing," she tried to say clearly, without muttering, but did not completely succeed. Her father that sent her with the package she had in hand, bidding her to make haste to the threshold of this man. What was placed in the package, she had not been told, but the young witch knew. After so much harsh reality, fractured breaks and absolute rawness, Phinelia knew her father and she knew that his not telling her for her safety rather than secrecy. Secrecy in this form no longer had a place between them.
Her dark eyes roamed past his shoulder as she awaited his answer to her automatic question, unconsciously trying to find the source of laughter that had baffled her moments before.
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
Scarlet hair bled, saturated, and fully in contrast to the world otherwise bleak and dim mangled around her. Breath caught in the cataclysm of his throat, cinched tight around the threat of words that had almost escaped like a ghostly premonition, but thankfully in his regard, did not. The surprise there could not have gone amiss, not even to the broken and the damned, and, he straightened his posture and cleared his throat warily to chase away the demons that lurk in the stagnant pool.
How wretched was it that a child could manifest such vile memories to boil on his tongue, and to think, he almost thought Alfons had lied. But this, this was the child, it was only a child. Heβd do well to remind himself of that often. All the same, he seemed winded, didnβt quite know what to say but the parcel in her hands had reminded him of his senses and he slid the door open wider several inches. A deft and calloused hand had waved her in in muted silence. Childish toys and coddled dolls with mismatched clothing littered the floor, dammit, he never did get to clean thatβif heβd had known all of these intrusions would barrel through his doorβ¦.
βChild,β he repeated, emphasizing it all in his mind. Maybe Alfons really was telling the truth, all the same, he had no body yet. And he wouldn't believe it until. βA disturbanceββ Remington had almost interjected, but a quick glance was thrown back towards his bedroom. Was she still even there? And then to the small bout of laughter that echoed amidst the splash of water. βLife wouldnβt be without its disturbancesβ¦." He finally said after a long moment of thought.
βTell me, did Alfons send you?β Warily, his eyes fell upon that plain package in her hands, curious as to its contents though he knew he neednβt be. Heβd meant to make his own delivery last night, butβ¦. Life was always full of surprises.
ββββββββββββββββ 39 years old β 6β3β β 194lbs In the doorway, Home β Office β Island ββββββββββββββββ
