Remington's Loft

[Pale Mist]

phinelia von ichval



apprentice - potioneer
flint family - daughter
ex - ravenclaw
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ▬▬▬▬▬▬ ▬▬
“In the country of the blind, the one-eyed man is king.”
– Desiderius Erasmus
“The haft of the arrow had been feathered with one of the eagle’s own plumes. We often give our enemies the means of our own destruction.”
– Aesop
“There is only one good, knowledge, and one evil, ignorance.”
– Socrates
“If the brain were so simple we could understand it, we would be so simple we couldn’t.”
– Lyall Watson


╔══════════════════╗

She wondered if it was struggle she was seeing in those amber eyes. She had only ever seen them calculating, always playing a chess match of two and working both colors. The classes and spells and learning were the facade of the man who really stood before her opposed to the mist that partially did in the classroom. But his talent had been intriguing and the subject compelling. Even in her long forgotten Nott secret that had then fueled a stronger interest in this ragged, keen man he was still so interesting.
But maybe it was just the eyes.
There was little chance that it was only her they haunted. She saw it every day, at the estate. The one she now called a home and found it so warm, so endlessly warm. She saw the branding on the once-thin shoulders of the man that was her embered heat - golden burn placed there by a golden family that he had told the complicated story of to her, once. Strange, the relationships and many different threads one family in so few direct members could create. A best friend; a godfather in judgment. An enemy though ever a competitive second voice that stirred the waters of inspiration and initiative. An unhealthy interest, brewed with sticking love that had now evaporated, crusted, and - she hoped - brittle.
No. Phinelia Flint was not the only one haunted by the Nott eyes.
"Yes," she answered in a voice suddenly yearning to have chords of pride in the face of him in his armor-clad robe. She tried not to eye it with too much scrutiny,"Did you ever expect me to come here with some other reason?"
The words had managed to drop without her verifying them and when they were out she swallowed automatically. Trying to pull back something that was already out; however, her surprise for them made her curious what his reaction would be, so she paused. Made it clear it was not hesitation. And when her independent words had lingered, suspended, long enough to seep into their dry skin, with response or without, Phinelia continued.
"It is the Veritaserum," she stated, eyes telling him she knew he was already aware. And that the trade she had come to retrieve had been late by his hand - at least late for her.

╚══════════════════╝

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Essy ze Ninja

 

[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

Slowly, his mind fumbled as he notched the arrow, pulled its string back, and now only waited for the thoughts to align to one. But would they ever? He felt his focus shattered. All the sharpened steel in the world couldn’t pin it together now. His gaze wavered so endlessly, long since succumbed to the full height that he had dragged himself upon, that narrowed pedestal where he only felt the numbing grasp clawing at his heels and threatened to rip him down. And they had, he supposed. In all honesty, trepid as it was, he no longer harbored that same brandished force as he’d once had. And some would even speculate it was because of his daughter, of fatherly woe and knitted concern, and quilts and blankets and faux fur.

But was it really?

Did he dare admit he was stalked by those same perilous eyes? Could he ever admit that that Veritaserum would answer every question he’d dwelt on for the past several years? No. But he wouldn’t deny that its crystal clarity was a paradise he’d revel in for years to come. If the years do come.

”Reasons change, as do their hosts.” A knowing eye had captured hers, the molten fire burnt away at the chipped and painted gold. ”You’ll have to deliver Alfons my apologies, I, well, I got a bit caught up.” Steely voice as low and cool as it’d ever been in spite of this, in spite of everything. He’d taken pause to swivel on his heel, glided towards the piano and ghosted his fingertips upon the familiar keys. The first few notes carried a loud string, ominous, even in its harmony. The last chord was struck with bitter contempt and it seemed to send a quiver throughout the room.

A small step was taken backwards as the floorboards gyrated, taking the piano and wall with it as it pivoted in place. On the other side of the wall, the pale, sun bleached pensieve glinted in the light as it filtered through the window. The wide brimmed bowl carved of marble had vines etched all along the stand; Remington thought it was only fitting.

”And as promised,” he gestured to the pensieve with a slow hand.

╔══════════════╗
39 years old ♛ 6’3” ♛ 194lbs
In the family room,
Home ♛ Office ♛ Island
╚══════════════╝

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Cara MiaKitty

”Pale Mist”

 

[Pale Mist]

phinelia von ichval



apprentice - potioneer
flint family - daughter
ex - ravenclaw
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ▬▬▬▬▬▬ ▬▬
“In the country of the blind, the one-eyed man is king.”
– Desiderius Erasmus
“The haft of the arrow had been feathered with one of the eagle’s own plumes. We often give our enemies the means of our own destruction.”
– Aesop
“There is only one good, knowledge, and one evil, ignorance.”
– Socrates
“If the brain were so simple we could understand it, we would be so simple we couldn’t.”
– Lyall Watson


╔══════════════════╗

Beats batted as she took in his words and deciding to forego the thoughts they tried to stir. She felt a bit numb by the man; seeing the difference to what she had anticipated. Or perhaps it was the eagerness awaiting that was dulling her senses.
Phinelia watched with strict eyes as he eyed the mess strewn under him, and the faces of the decorations of the entrance-most part of the loft, down to the piano. Keys paced with such little focus that Phi found herself unsure whether he was so aware of them out of constant habit of having them under his fingertips or there was a different magic elsewhere occurring as everything swung.
But the thoughts left her immediately when she saw the prize behind the vaguely-interesting questions of motion.
Phinelia had remained at the threshold of the Nott's living quarters until that very moment; she stepped with eyes locked only on the decorated Pensieve, avoiding every bit of mess regardless. The package was out of her hands and in Remington's with little memory of her placing it there when her wands were already around the rim of the thing. "It is to me your apologies should go to," she spoke, "perhaps Alfons Flint ordered this but it is mine," she breathed the final word, idly wondering in a far off part of her mind why she was speaking to him, why she was saying all this to him.
"My father wants nothing to do with this, he said he has had his head swim under these waters enough times already. I am to keep it away from him,
Have my own private project."
She finished, her short, rounded body already crouching and cataloging in detail the decorations of the stone basin and its stand. The workmanship was excellent and she did not let her thoughts trail to where the man had found it all.
Her ears suddenly emptied out the white noise that had momentarily invaded them and listened for the sound of opening paper. The little bottle within was familiar to the redheaded witch, and the extra payment for the thing she was holding now was placed in there as well.
Though things like these were not what was being paid for, it was the efforts. The scars - physical or otherwise - that were some pitiful form of reprimand and thanks, or maybe apology. Not the value of a stone birdbath.

╚══════════════════╝

show spoilerhide spoiler

Essy ze Ninja

 

[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 sweltered bruise had woven together quickly, he could feel the burn that radiated off each one of his fingers while the inflamed joints sung shrilly. And although flesh was painted ivory, as white as ivory goes, he could almost see the aubergine demise knitted over knuckles that were bleached white. The parcel did well to up stand the pressure that built behind the dam and threatened to just… explode. Tendons wrapped around the bottle, tight, almost as if it would just slip away, if he let it. The plain brown packaging ripped apart as he flayed hastily, tearing the skin from the ribcage of the bottle of golden truths as any man would.

But not every man was prepared to do what he was about to do. And idly, he wondered if its truths would ever even change anything. How ironic that he should know honesty doesn’t always make the world turn. Nor love, nor happiness, nor power—but greed. Animalistic hungers that could not be quelled with simplicity, oh gods no. That would be just too easy, wouldn’t it?

Even now, upon the brimming face of youth before him, no matter how wretched the past had twisted her, it was the future she sought. It was greed that fueled her. Greed for the unknown, for the lies, for the truth best left untold. No matter how he strung it, the song of the damned was corrupt, as it always would be.

And herein lay his fealty, didn’t it? Or, lack of, for that matter?

”Then by all means, child, you have my humblest apologies.” However humble he might possibly ever afford. Not that it was a rich man’s game, but, rich men knew not to play the games of uncertainty (or how else would they stay rich?) It was upon the very notion of her next words that had so callously reminded him of the destruction and theft of his own private office. Of all that had been stolen, he thought it odd his pensieve and memories were gone… And now in the face of this?

What could these children be hunting so blindly for?

”Some truths,” he began, an affectionate eye marveled at the vial rolling in his fingertips and all the promises it held. ”Are best left where they are—rotting in the ground…

“Do me a favor, would you?

“Don’t come back unannounced again—it may not end so well for you my dear.” Was it a threat? Even Remington hadn’t made the betting gamble. He hadn’t even so much as given her grace to leave, nor had even gestured for her exit as he swiftly turned. The portraits on the walls were empty, save for the sleeping form of Jagger the Grave Nott, but as Remy passed him by, he could only speculate that snores he heard were forced and fake. Jagger the Grave was like to disappear and gossip as all the rest of them, and could he even be blamed? Life as a work of art seemed only mundane. Footsteps echoed as he ventured back to Dahlia, ever curious if her presence was still around as the door to the bedroom swiftly opened and closed behind him.

╔══════════════╗
39 years old ♛ 6’3” ♛ 194lbs
In the corridor,
Home ♛ Office ♛ Island
╚══════════════╝

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Cara MiaKitty

”Pale Mist”

 

[MJ Spooks]

Dahlia is...spacespacespacespace
CURRENTLY // Looking Naughty in Remington's Bedroomspace
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.'
═════════════════════════════════

Dahlia smiled as Remington entered the room, her eyes sparkling with a dark malice. Not for him, of course. No, he'd served his purpose, and served it rather well. She would very much like to continue this little tryst. It would drive the knife deeper into her husband's weak heart... of course, there was more than that. Remington had proven himself an incredibly gifted partner, and she had rather enjoyed herself. Something she couldn't say of her husband. Oh, he'd been skilled; but their marriage, being arranged as it had, lacked passion. It always had; before Damien's initial defection his first year, their bed play had grown to feel like a chore, to both of them, she was sure. After their son had grown ill... Well, Wesley's feelings towards her treatment of the child had bled into other matters, and he hadn't cared to even look at her most days, let alone touch her most nights. By halfway through his second year, their marriage bed had grown cold. By this point, she was certain that it would have cobwebs, were it a real bed and not an abstract concept.

She brushed the thought away in irritation. What, was she yearning for those days? She certainly didn't miss the wretch; he was beneath her. No, she merely regretted that her life had turned out thus. Although, if she were honest, it had its benefits... such as the man standing before her. She arched her brow, raking him with a heated look. "Do you always have wine and caviar for breakfast, or are we celebrating something?" She certainly felt she had something to celebrate, but then, last night's events felt to be their own celebration. She leaned back on the bed, moving so that the sheet slipped, revealing most of her milky thighs, an inch away from indecency. She held it in place over her chest, not out of a desire to cover herself, but to tempt him. She still had time before she needed to ensure her chance meeting at the door with her husband; plenty of time for another diversion.


═════════════════════════════════
'Soon, I know you'll see you're just like me.'

(( OOC: ))
...

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Essy ze Ninja

 

[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

”Life, my dear,” he smiled coy, loosened the pin that clasped his robes in place and swept the fabric wide around broad shoulders to drape across the back of a cushioned redwood chair. Hasty fingers moved to unclasp the armor at his sides with one hand, while the other toyed with the delicate vial and rolled it between his fingers. The clear concoction inside could have been a thousand different possibilities—and for all Remington knew—it could have been water. But he trusted Alfons, perhaps not with his life but he trusted the man professionally in any case. And when transactions were made, it wasn’t to be made lightly. ”…Life should always be celebrated.” He smiled so sweet, the candy coated poison bled into his veins.

But the vial was to be saved for a different day, he tucked the precious crystal upon a shelf barely sparing Dahlia a glance. It wasn’t until he’d shed his proper tunic and breastplate did he finally ravage his eyes upon her, much to his delight. ”Mmmmm,” his smile spoke volumes of lust, sin, and deceit. ”Such a treat,” that smile twisted into a carnivorous smirk as he stepped forward. Rough, calloused fingers teased her supple skin, grazed up her thigh until they were lost in the sheets.

For now, most of his attention swayed as his free hand had lifted a wine glass, a small toast to themselves. The cool liquid burned once it hit his throat and struggled its way down to the depths. A coy, furtive glance upon her and a low hum growled in his throat. He almost dropped the glass right then and there, and, somehow, without realizing when, he’d managed to place it on the bedside just in time to coil his fingers around her hips and drag her across the sheets until she was pressed against him. ”One of these days I might just keep you all to myself.”

╔══════════════╗
39 years old ♛ 6’3” ♛ 194lbs
In the corridor,
Home ♛ Office ♛ Island
╚══════════════╝

show spoilerhide spoiler

Cara MiaKitty

 

[MJ Spooks]

Dahlia is...spacespacespacespace
CURRENTLY // Looking Naughty in Remington's Bedroomspace
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.'
═════════════════════════════════

Dahlia's eyes twinkled in the light, her smile coy, a blush in her cheeks, not from embarrassment, but from excitement. Coming here had probably been the best decision she'd made in a long time. She ran a hand up his arm and took a wineglass with the other, taking a long drink from it. Their game hadn't ended; it had changed. And for that, she was incredibly thankful. Of course, she should have expected as much. If their bed play was any indication, he enjoyed their game as much as she did. She returned the glass to its place on the nightstand and moved her hand from his shoulder down his chest, and lower still. She didn't have time for whispers; if she wanted to be home to meet Wesley at the door, she needed to time this perfectly. And there would always be other nights, other mornings, for them to drag this out, to really enjoy it. Right now, she just wanted to look properly tousled when she passed her husband on his way to the office.

Really sink that knife into his heart.

She chuckled a bit at the thought. She supposed she could be positively evil at times, couldn't she? But then, he deserved it, for making her suffer the shame she had. It was his turn to be shamed. She wanted every high-standing family to know that he'd so mistreated her wife that she'd run from his bed into another's.

** TIME SKIP **

She didn't know how much time had passed when they were through, but upon checking the time, she was pleased to see that she could time it perfectly to arrive at their doorstep as Wesley exited the home. She leaned in and gave Remington a coy kiss on the lips, her hand stroking from his cheek to under his chin. "This was fun. We should do it again." She then proceeded to dress, oh, so slowly for his enjoyment, and was off without another word.


═════════════════════════════════
'Soon, I know you'll see you're just like me.'

(( OOC: ))
** Dahlia Exit **

show spoilerhide spoiler

Essy ze Ninja

 

[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’ll have fun with your uncle, little flower, I promise.” He nodded down to the young girl at his feet; her puckered bottom lip did little to ease his thoughts. She wouldn’t beg though, not aloud. With a stern hand on her shoulder, Sophie gave him one last hug and left with William for the day.

Remington had too many things he needed to do. Gold irises thickened through dilated pupils, everything had to be perfect. His young nephew would soon be at his doorway, and there was no wonder what might happen afterward. He’d lost touch with the boy years ago, he’d have hoped to amend that, if the boy wasn’t so damn stubborn. Still, it begged the question. Why was he fighting so hard for? He mused over his thoughts as he poured two glasses of brandy, it was his brothers favorite, and undoubtedly, the taste would have been bestowed upon his son, Tay.

”Uncle, you had sent word of me.” The voice declared rather than inquired, and the rough graze of the door against the wooden floors grinded to a close and a click of the doorknob.

With his back to Tay, he slipped out the small, crystal vial and dropped its contents into the opposite glass. One was stolen into his right hand and brought to his lips, the contaminated glass procured with the left and exchanged hands just as swiftly. ”I did. Please, take a seat Tay.”

”I saw father took Sophie….. What plans have they today?” The younger boy wondered, his musings over small talk in hopes of driving Remington further to the point. Either way, his lingered gaze remained on that glass in his young nephews hand—willing him to drink.

”Uh—yes, to take Old Knight on a walk, I believe, and, oh, I don’t bloody know, some rubbish. Tay, I have to ask you something.” Remington began aloof, calm, but that was quickly changing.

”What is it uncle?” But Tay wouldn’t drink. His nephew was bored, drowned under angst. He wondered what it was that troubled the young boy; he was never so brash before.

”It’s your aunt…. Have you seen her lately? Krina?”

Gold eyes snapped back up at Remington, he swore he saw fire in those eyes. Fire, and blood. ”No. She’s dead.”

Remington was shocked. He didn’t know what to say at first, and he was grateful for the drink in his hand. The younger boy seemed to take the same notion, and brought his own glass laced with veritaserum to his lips. ”She is…. Who told you?” Remington had to ask. Even though this meant it led astray from his precarious plan, so be it. ”When?”

”Phinelia.” Tay shrugged. He didn’t seem to have wanted to lie, in any case. ”Not even a fortnight has passed.” Tay carried on, and now, he seemed eerily interested in the brandy. Remington would be lying if he hadn’t felt a chill crawl down his spine right then.

”I see.” Another surprise that Remington would have never seen coming from afar; just how much has he been missing? Since he’d decidedly withdrawn himself from the world underground. ”And… who was with you? Who helped you rob me?” Remington dared, tongue in cheek, heart in his throat.

”Michell—“ Tay had said the word before he’d even know what happened.So it was true! His very own nephew had robbed him- nearly killed him! ”Greengrass.” Remington couldn’t tell if the boy had just lied then. There was an usual pause, one he only barely caught fleeting like air through his fingers—but there it was, in a jar on display to inspect and muse.

”Why aren’t you fighting?” Remington dared, breath caught in his throat when its walls suddenly caved in and he couldn’t breathe. No, ********! Really! Why can’t he breathe!? A hand rose to his throat and his eyes widened in horror.

”I already have.”

But Remington barely heard him. He jumped to his feet, both hands around his throat as he struggled to breathe. He couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t begin to think and wonder: how?! Spots blinked in his vision, the colors melted together and blended to black. A crash echoed and the dust lifted as he fell to his knees. Gold, mossy eyes barely glanced up to see him sitting there, staring at him, smiling.

Then everything went black.

[Exit]

╔══════════════╗
39 years old ♛ 6’3” ♛ 194lbs
with Tay
Home ♛ Office ♛ Island
╚══════════════╝

 

[Essy ze Ninja]

Feels like I’m waking from the dead
And everyone's been waiting on me

’Least now I'll never have to wonder
What it's like to sleep a year away

But were we indestructible
I thought that we could brave it all
I never thought that what would take me out
Was hiding down below

Remington Jagger Nott

[Start Scene - Mid Winter]

A grizzly hand ensnared his jaw, masked any lines or crease of sorrow that were chiseled in to stone, impossible to sand away in such short time. Thoughts ensnarled behind a veil of dead golden curtains, he sat rigid in the confines of the deep green leather arm chair of his den, and he could feel himself sinking in the cushions as he deliberated. It had been days since he’d found himself back home, and for days he spent hiding away here wondering why.

”You’ve had frequent visitors clambering at your keep at all odd hours for the past fortnight, you’re aware…?” A voice flittered from behind, echoed against the walls as a man in a portrait bore golden copper eyes imploringly down upon him. ”Several of which, the voices I can clearly conclude had belonged unto our very own flesh and blood.”

”Jagger, you could not imagine my lament at the incidental fire that may occur for ashing upon your perilously flammable oils...” Remington’s slow, creeping drawl brought a hushed silence as the man in the portrait bristled his moustache but decidedly hadn’t spoken another word.

Remington could feel the hand gesture from behind him, though.

Just yesterday, William had arrived with Sophie, with an unspoken look that knew more than it should have. Remington wasn’t very enthused about that at all. Nonetheless, he was overjoyed when the soft embrace of his daughter was tucked safely in his arms. He’d barely let her out of his sight, afterwards. But William had promised her an excursion to the park with Old Knight, and Remington wasn’t one to refuse his daughter of her happiness—even if it had forsaken any sense of fear he had left.

But he needed this, this empty day to sit in this empty shell with empty thoughts and broken breaths. He needed this silence. He needed this moment, of absolutely dwelling, and nothing else.

He’d lost sense of time in those days, he hadn’t found it, even now. Unaware of just how long he sat in the same chair, staring at the same shine on the same key of the grand piano in the center of the room, Remington waited. For an answer, for an emotion, for an ounce of will to confront what had happened to him, and why!

But it would mean this denial he’d barricaded himself, fortified his walls with the mortar of, would fall apart and everything he told himself, that it was a lie, a dream, a fabrication of false memories that felt too surreal.

But it wasn’t real, it didn’t actually happen, it couldn’t have, so it mustn’t have.

Right?

No matter what, he always felt it. Dark, nefarious, evil; it followed him, stalked him. He could feel it, watching him. Even now.

╔══════════════╗
39 years old ♛ 6’3” ♛ 172lbs
Home ♛ Office ♛ Island
╚══════════════╝

Lost the battle, win the war

I'm bringing my sinking ship back to the shore

We're starting over, we'll head back in
There's a time and a place to die but this ain't it.

 

[MJ Spooks]

Dahlia is...spacespacespacespace
CURRENTLY // Looking Crazed at Remington's Loftspace
CURRENTLY // separated from Wesley Edgeworth // 'loving' Remington Nottspaces
CURRENTLY WITH // No onespacesp
CURRENTLY FEELING // Desperatespacespa
CURRENTLY THINKING // 'Oh, dammit, Remington, answer your damned door, I've got nowhere else to go!' spacespac
You belong to me, my snow white queen.
There's nowhere to run, so let's just get it over it.'
═════════════════════════════════

Dahlia appeared on Remington's doorstep, her expression crazed and desperate, and she banged on the door, no care to the people who might walk by and see her. She was beyond caring; she was infuriated at her husband for besting her and afraid that he'd make good on his word to report her. She couldn't go to Azkaban; she refused. The damage it would do to her reputation... she blanched, banging harder on the door. It was the middle of the day, and she was thankful, because the noise of the streets provided at least some cover for her noise, and people were too busy to pay too close attention to her. As little as she cared, there was enough there that decided it was far better to have something to keep her from being the center of attention. She had no doubt that, were it late, her noise would've attracted the attention of his neighbors. She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling vulnerable, all the while trying to tell herself that Wesley wouldn't have the stomach to call the Aurors to report his own wife; he was weak, simple. He must still feel enough affection for her to leave her be, let her leave. No harm had been done, right? She was rationalizing, she knew, but it was all she had. She squeezed herself, hoping beyond all hope that her leaving would be enough. She could never go back to that home, she knew. There was no way. And nothing for her there, in any case. If she went back... she would face nothing but ridicule. She should have left months ago. Years ago. But she'd stayed... and now, she stood on her lover's doorstep, hoping that, after his long absence, he was finally home, he would finally answer, and not leave her to the streets. Because she had no where else to go.


═════════════════════════════════
Soon, I know you'll see you're just like me.'

(( OOC: ))
...

show spoilerhide spoiler

Essy ze Ninja

 

[Essy ze Ninja]

Feels like I’m waking from the dead
And everyone's been waiting on me

’Least now I'll never have to wonder
What it's like to sleep a year away

But were we indestructible
I thought that we could brave it all
I never thought that what would take me out
Was hiding down below

Remington Jagger Nott

Ghostly hands, frail and still, could almost feel the gnawing of frostbite in his fingertips. Even now, they shivered restlessly, muscles and bones barely regrown still clamored—always on edge. The same sad notes on the A minor scale, C E G, all three at once, repeated over and over again. He couldn’t seem to move his fingers away from those keys to play any other string, chord, or note. The weight of his skull was nestled in the crook of his palm and his downcast view hid his features in the shadows of his frame. The grand piano could be heard dwindling down the small staircase that met the doorway just outside that led up to his loft.

The thunderous demands, the desperate rapping at his door, hell, Remington almost had the mind to barricade himself within. But that haunting demon—he spun around immediately. He could almost feel breathing down his neck. A shuddery breath forced him to bring his sinking ship back in to the shore.

And then he remembered, the door. Worn, eyes like copper painted gold ravaged, and soon he stumbled in tune. An empty bottle of cognac left a square stain of water on his piano. He shuffled down the stairs of his den and swept the door open wide. No manner of defense or shrouded secrets barred his doorway now, not like before. He was too numb to really care anymore. ”Dahlia.” He spoke, the breath of surprise that should have been there sat like a dead stone weighing down his chest. He swept to the side and ushered her in quick, hasty fingers wormed the locks into their defenses, one after the other, and then charmed, just to be sure. Aubergine dreams seem like such a distant memory now.

”You’re upset.” Remington said, quite bluntly. In his absence, it seemed, he’d lost all mannerism of cunning and intrigue, and of riddles and puzzles. He tugged on the hem of his doublet vest, embroidered in the iconic silver design of the English Bullmastiff that had been adopted as their crest and sigil. And underneath, his silken shirt fell loosely. Chills crawled up and down his spine again, he could feel it. He could feel the black presence over his shoulder, watching him, tugging at his heartstring. He glanced over his shoulder almost expecting to see it there, see something…

He should know better by now.

And now, his lips parted, but he couldn’t find any words. Nothing seemed right.

╔══════════════╗
39 years old ♛ 6’3” ♛ 172lbs
Home ♛ Office ♛ Island
╚══════════════╝

Lost the battle, win the war

I'm bringing my sinking ship back to the shore

We're starting over, we'll head back in
There's a time and a place to die but this ain't it.

 

[MJ Spooks]

Dahlia is...spacespacespacespace
CURRENTLY // Looking Crazed at Remington's Loftspace
CURRENTLY // separated from Wesley Edgeworth // 'loving' Remington Nottspaces
CURRENTLY WITH // No onespacesp
CURRENTLY FEELING // Desperatespacespa
CURRENTLY THINKING // 'Oh, dammit, Remington, answer your damned door, I've got nowhere else to go!' spacespac
You belong to me, my snow white queen.
There's nowhere to run, so let's just get it over it.'
═════════════════════════════════

Dahlia frowned as she entered his home, her eyes fierce and desperate, searching as they raked over him. He looked like hell. She probably did as well. There was a fine layer of dust coating her clothes from being in that musty old room, and her hair was falling out of its careful style, looking as though someone had ran a hand through it. She ignored his utterance, looking him in the eye. "Well aren't we a fine pair." It was a statement, not a question. She brushed past him, straight into his home as if it were her own, straight to the liquor. She grabbed a glass and took the liberty of serving herself a shot of whiskey. She downed it and refilled the glass, swirling its contents and staring into them as if she could see her future in its amber depths.

She glanced at him, noting how thin he was, how tired he looked. "I take it you weren't simply ignoring me when I came calling. What the hell happened?" She supposed she shouldn't be bitter, but she was. Couldn't help it; she was a selfish person at heart, she'd be the first to admit it. She'd been stuck in that bloody home, with no where to go. Nothing to do. She'd gotten herself on a nocturnal schedule so she'd have plenty of energy to spend on her nights with him, and so by the time she'd awakened each afternoon, there was little else to do. The night was only time for two things; bedsport, and prowling for a partner for that bedsport. When he'd not answered the door one night, she'd been annoyed. The next night, angry. The third she'd become enraged. And never once had she been worried about him. No, she was far too self-centered than that. Honestly, she wasn't asking now out of any concern for him. She just wanted to know if he had a good enough excuse that she could let go of it enough to take out her aggression over Wesley on him. He did make an amazing partner for channeling her anger into something slightly less violent than murder... although only slightly less. And she did so want to kill something or someone right now. The fact that the miserable little Elf was still alive made her grind her teeth.

She downed the whiskey and poured another glass, wondering if it'd be better to drink until she was numb, or let Remington wear her out. But, looking at him... she doubted he was up to it. She took pull straight from the bottle, her brow arched. "You go first, dear Remington. Tell me what happened to but such shadows in and under your eyes, and I'll tell you what brings me to your doorstep." Even in her current state, she wanted their game. His bluntness, his tired expression, told her that he wasn't really up for it... but she needed it. Needed those barbs, traded back and forth, whispers and secrets. After the day she'd had... the last few weeks. They'd been hell. She needed something that felt right, even if it was oh, so wrong.


═════════════════════════════════
Soon, I know you'll see you're just like me.'

(( OOC: ))
...

show spoilerhide spoiler

Essy ze Ninja

 

[Essy ze Ninja]

Feels like I’m waking from the dead
And everyone's been waiting on me

’Least now I'll never have to wonder
What it's like to sleep a year away

But were we indestructible
I thought that we could brave it all
I never thought that what would take me out
Was hiding down below

Remington Jagger Nott

He would have taken aback, would have slid to let her slither past his square frame but he hadn’t the time to, and either way, she slithered all the same. A curtsy of curiosity danced at his brows as he slid up the short staircase that bled open into the den. The grand piano with the empty bottle was nestled closely over the edge of the staircase railing, and faced down into the depths. Just behind it, the intricate, old fashioned shelving crisscrossed upon the dark walls and catered to the amber, rose, chocolate and aubergine tinted liquor in rows and rows. Empty spaces coddled few and far between, the most imminent being the whiskey bottle abruptly plucked from the heart.

She spun on her heel as he lingered shortly behind in her shadows. Her scrutinizing gaze had done little to soothe him, though it had distracted him, that much, he was grateful for whether or not he’d ever deem himself worthy enough to ever stop and sit and think again. Her next purposeful drawl had hidden the vehemence well enough, better than her eyes would ever hide, he realized. ”Nothing to concern yourself over, my dear. The secrets of the world underground aren’t mine to sell if I don’t know what they are.” He stated matter-of-factly. He had decided, long ago, still in decrepit ruins of Russia, that no one would know the truth of his whereabouts. No one needed to know. Ever.

Even as he spoke, he doubted very highly she was analyzing every word, every utterance of sound and the strain of muscle and veins at his neck. The blood pumped irregularly, and his heart skipped its beats and his lungs strained, feeling so small. The memory of it was consuming him.

”Like I said, nothing that ought to mar your pretty little face.” Somehow, he felt even the small plant of a kiss, anywhere, would be unwelcome. Good, he wasn’t feeling very manipulative, not even the slightest. But he could hear her baiting him, could almost see her trying to hook him in. He wanted to sigh, wanted to crawl in his bed and let her do as she would—so long as he could rest. But clearly, that wouldn’t be happening any time soon.

Shadows in and under did little justice, drowned and burned, he thought cruelly. It was all the same. Still, he stiffened his bottom lip as he fought to wretch himself up from the ashes, to rise again, harder and stronger in the soot and smoke that was to be him.

”…..” ********.

It obviously wasn’t working very well, now was it?

He shrugged when he felt that, despite its intent and purposes, those words alone would not be enough to soothe her jealousy. ”Murder. Extortion. Blackmail. Trust me, dear, the details are less than noble... now,” he paused, long strides had swept himself up beside her. One hand lifted to the small of her back, the other, it stole from her. He slipped the bottle of whiskey from her fingers and brought it to his lips, and soon, the cool glass slid under her fingers as he relinquished his hold upon it. ”Why don’t you tell me what’s gotten you so riled, and I’ll do my best to unrile whatever it is.” He hadn’t meant it, it hadn’t sparked wild in his eyes dim eyes like a bright gold fire, not like they always used to. But the game was there and the rules were broken, just how she liked it.

╔══════════════╗
39 years old ♛ 6’3” ♛ 172lbs
Home ♛ Office ♛ Island
╚══════════════╝

Lost the battle, win the war

I'm bringing my sinking ship back to the shore

We're starting over, we'll head back in
There's a time and a place to die but this ain't it.

 

[MJ Spooks]

Dahlia is...spacespacespacespace
CURRENTLY // Looking Crazed at Remington's Loftspace
CURRENTLY // separated from Wesley Edgeworth // 'loving' Remington Nottspaces
CURRENTLY WITH // No onespacesp
CURRENTLY FEELING // Desperatespacespa
CURRENTLY THINKING // 'Oh, dammit, Remington, answer your damned door, I've got nowhere else to go!' spacespac
You belong to me, my snow white queen.
There's nowhere to run, so let's just get it over it.'
═════════════════════════════════

Dahlia watched him move, her eyes analyzing his gait, her mind formulating theory after theory on what he was hiding. Not for their game this time, she noted; he was simply to weary of whatever had happened to speak of it. For a man who'd always been in control, the position must be incredibly upsetting... she felt the briefest flicker of concern before it was squelched by her frustration. Honestly. It was incredibly inconvenient. The man was welcome to crisis of his own, every person was, but his timing certainly left something to be desired. She ground her teeth when he took the whiskey from her, annoyance practically bleeding from her pores. His hand at the base of her spine was, for once, unwelcome. If he wasn't up to snuff then he ought not even try. She rolled her eyes at him and pulled away, slinking to a chair and sitting down. "Well, don't you seem enthused at the prospect? A mere month ago all I had to do was let a strap slip from my shoulder and blink to find your bedroom door open. Now... it's like you're worried I'll wrinkle your sheets. If you can't be bothered with it, then you shouldn't bother at all."

She took a drink, from her glass this time, and crossed her legs, leaning her head back to fall. Her temples throbbed. She'd wanted to lose herself, forget her troubles, just for a moment... but he was clearly in no state to see to it that she was properly distracted. She looked back up at him, propping an elbow on the chair's armrest and her chin on her fist, her lips pursed. She clicked her tongue and flashed him a snake's smile. "Oh, Remington. I've gone and done it this time. Let's see, where to begin... being cooped up in that house did a number on my sanity, it would seem. Today I snapped. Shattered a priceless family heirloom, petrified the Elf, drug it into an old room and tortured it for a bit. Was going to kill it, actually, but my husband returned home early today. Saved the ruddy thing as if its life were worth saving. Threatened me. I was planning on taking control of him, and the brat when he returned, and setting my household to rights, but I'm afraid I lost my temper. Didn't have the presence of mind to succeed, of course. Then he attacked me, and told me he'd be turning me in. So, I panicked and left. And you know, in all this world, I only had one place to go... And here I am." She took another sip, eyeing him carefully. Rarely had she ever honestly opened up with him. But, she had no where to go, nothing she could do to protect herself should Wesley actually call the Aurors to hunt her down... her affair had been rather public, they might bust down Remington's door all the same. She needed to be safe and secure. And she knew that Remington had the ability to make her disappear... if he could be bothered with it. She wasn't so sure, looking at him.

She supposed she could be nice to him, try and butter him up, but she was loathe to do so. Even in the position she was in, that air of superiority clung, swirling about her like a cloak. Not a mask she wore; it wasn't a thing to hide behind. It was as much a part of her as her hair, her skin. Her wand. It wasn't something she could drop. She refused to even try. It was all she had left. So, she had to hope that there was enough of her old lover swirling in those dulled depths to take her under his wing and protect her from the coming storm. That he cared enough to do so. She didn't really know where she stood with him, honestly. It'd all been nothing more than a game until now. She realized just how despondent she was. Just how hopeless her situation was. Her expression changed, not on the surface, but just underneath. An observant person would see the worry, the fear. The desperation. "I... I've nothing else, Remington. Nothing." Her voice was measured, but just under the smooth surface, she was sure he could hear the swirling depths. The storm being raged in her soul. She would never say the words aloud... but she needed him.


═════════════════════════════════
Soon, I know you'll see you're just like me.'

(( OOC: ))
...

show spoilerhide spoiler

Essy ze Ninja

 

[Essy ze Ninja]

Feels like I’m waking from the dead
And everyone's been waiting on me

’Least now I'll never have to wonder
What it's like to sleep a year away

But were we indestructible
I thought that we could brave it all
I never thought that what would take me out
Was hiding down below

Remington Jagger Nott

A sneer ticked on his lips but was washed away by the second hand on the face of the clock as it tick tock ticked in the background. The reaction was slight, hundreds of degrees fiercer than he ever would have liked, but the damage was done. The overgrown beard bristled as his lips tightened to form a thin line; the wispy fuzz crawled under his chin and down his neck, wherever he’d been, he obviously hadn’t the time, or reason, to attune himself properly. His grasp on the bottle splintered, fingers wove around the mouth as he slid the glass bottle up to his lips and downed the cool, liquid fire down to keep him quiet; to keep from bursting, from thundering, from drowning her. Impatience had strung him up, tied the noose around his neck, and she was all too happy to kick the ground out from under him. Every inclination to follow her, to drop down to his knees at her feet and coil his fingers around her pretty little throat, and to drag her down, give her a taste of what she was too blinded to see. He stiffened at the thought.

She relented from her façade, or maybe it was just a new one? He was too tired to keep track. Their dalliance was far from over. She nearly collapsed when she sat, and although she’d shirked away from his touch, he hadn’t at all seemed to mind. A callous expression grew weary on his face as she spoke. He never held her gaze. His eyes were dimly wrought and focused on any, on every—but not her. Not until she reached the climatic end of her fairytale and it was all he could do to not shoot an imposing stare upon her.

He’d always known she was… off. Who wasn’t, these days? Still, he’d always told himself the pretty little song bird, was best. After all, Krina had shown him what it was to play with the snakes—and he much preferred these little song birds. They listened, they sung what they were taught, they were silent when he bade them, they were willing, and coddling and stupid.

Maybe that was what had riled his want—no—his need for her. She was a taste of something different. A mockingbird, yes, but not just any, no, she was different. She sung the songs of the sweet, and the wicked, of the damned and the great. Any and every song, she’d play it, and she’d play him too. If he let her.

The last means of her desperation flittered in small depths. Pushing and pulling the waves with the force of the moon that threatened to overtake the world just outside his window. It wouldn’t be long, he realized, until his daughter arrived. (For now, he’d much rather have the two separate, at least, until this was resolved.)

”You’ve me.” He murmured in utter nonchalance, practically picking the dirt from under his fingernails as he weighed the options in his mind. ”I have a place, you’ll be safe there. I’ll cast my doubts that even Wesley would bring the shame to his doorstep and announce truths, but, if he’s so callous and does. I’ll know. We’ll know.

“If that house elf lives—chances of playing the victim are gone, it’d be best not venture that route at all. Discredit the man, I might be able to accomplish. Being so unsound of mind, the ministry will have no choice but to revoke any search or bounty on you, dear…

“It’ll take time, but….

“Well…. You’ve got all the time in the world, don’t you?” Maybe it was a bit sharp, but he was still sore of his wounded pride. He knew better than to let it affect him so. ”I hope you like boats,” Remington smiled coy. He gestured her to reach him as he extended a hand for means of apparation. Other than by flight, the only other way to reach their destination would be by sea, an illegal portkey would have been too dangerous to ever attempt, lest he be caught.

[Scene Move To: Lough Erne]
╔══════════════╗
39 years old ♛ 6’3” ♛ 172lbs
Home ♛ Office ♛ Island
╚══════════════╝

Lost the battle, win the war

I'm bringing my sinking ship back to the shore

We're starting over, we'll head back in
There's a time and a place to die but this ain't it.