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Essy ze Ninja Vice Captain
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 Posted: Thu Apr 26, 2012 9:15 pm
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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
Cunning, perilous pride had seeped within and taken root, a gripping sense of wondrous woe and agony tightening around his throat with an iron vice grip, cold, and unforgiving. The harsh winds whipped forth from the scattered sea, tearing, and billowing wisps of robes to and fro in the sun kissed sky. Shining beams berated down on his back like the burning pride of his ancestors, always watching, and waiting to string him up by the veins and tie a noose around his neck. Even now, collided against a sense of salt, and stone, Remington stood fierce and regal.
A fire burned bright in his eyes, mirroring the same twisted sense of distorted desperation akin to the cursed, and the damned. It wasn’t often, he realized, that he had found a new light in the men he deemed to be mere prisoners to the sun—and he, a freedom fighter of the darkness and it’s playground.
Here, in the darkness, everything goes, and everyone is equal. In the shadows, everyone is a commoner, a servant and a slave to the light. But, only in the darkness, can those chains be unburdened. After all, what can’t be seen can’t be fought, can it?
”Whoever this is…” Remington drawled on with a heartbeat, never straying the intensity of his gaze from dark, copper eyes. ”Must be close to you.” No doubt, Remington was sure that Gideon had already supplemented the very same premise.
His thoughts reeled; recounting Marta’s every last word in his mind again as he had had a thousand times before, a broken record he could never replace. Not a trace of emotion ever flooded his mind, ever. But his memories reveled in the delight, the passionate warmth and gentle touch of Marta. One of the very few he ever kept returning to.
And Cora, he remembered her well. Skin as soft, and supple, perhaps a few shades lighter than her older counterpart, Marta. He was young, foolish, and brazen. It had been his last few hours in Great Britain before studying abroad, when he had found her. Cora was deceptively sweet, much like her sister, but he had never truly the chance to get to know her. She died, before he ever returned to London.
And then, years later, reconciling with the sister and the memories that all others dreaded to hear, after all, who could ever take comfort in the company of misery? Marta had, for a while, and then that misery grew wicked, and wild, and untamed. Marta had always been so scared, he remembered fondly, but so eager, and head strong.
Fumbling through memories, Remington dived back to reality with the bat of his eye. A flash of sparks gave way through Gideon’s eyes, and at once, he grew tense and rigid, staring into the end of an ebony wand. ”Gideon,” Remington warned with a growl.
”I haven’t seen Cora in over fifteen years, she died while I was in Germany, Marta—“ Thirteen years, the sudden realization hit him hard, iron against stone. He stood, hard, and silent, beaten down by Gideon’s word though he never wavered, like tempering steel.
”How was I supposed to know?!” His confidence, his pride, his arrogance—all of it wavered on a single strand of life. Suspended in the heart, Remington had always kept the pride and memory of his firstborn son nearly sixteen years ago. Fresh out of Hogwarts, he had had a son. And he was to be married.
The engagement lasted no longer than three months, and their son? Barely six months old.
Remington never knew who, or why, they had come to his grandmother’s home on the private island and murdered her in cold blood. He never found out who had slain his baby boy. He only knew that his brother blamed him—and he blamed himself too.
It was why he initially left to study abroad, to leave London and everything it held for him behind. Never once, did he imagine that his last day in London would soon haunt him to an early grave. But all he could see, all he could taste, and all he could feel was the blood pooling around his lifeless baby boy. ”She didn’t want me to know.” He admitted, back against the wall and fangs out. ”Or she would have told me herself.” He believed it to be true. He was so sure! Marta had always dreamed of a life with him, he knew that. Anyone could see that. But she had had her chance—why didn’t she take it?
”What do you want from me, Balford. You don’t want my life. You don’t need my need my money. Do you really want me around those children too?
“Then we’ll have the rest of the wizarding world trying to kill them, won’t we? Have you lost your bloody mind?” Remington threw his hands up in defeat, pivoting his heel to leave his back open to Gideon, and now, suddenly feeling a tad bit safer than he had felt all day. ”They’ll be safe in Hogwarts, I’ll look after them myself.
“I’ll give my shop over, and I’ll take a teaching post at Hogwarts.” He decided. ”I’ll have my men in Hogsmeade—no one will go in or out without my knowing it. Now for Circe’s sake, where have you been all of these years?” He demanded, as volatile as the wind and sea. ”You made my brother mad trying to find you, suppose I should thank you for that. Never would have been able to get so accomplished without all of your help.”
╔══════════════╗
Location: Lough Erne Dock with Gideon Balford
╚══════════════╝
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Posted: Fri Apr 27, 2012 10:44 am
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Gideon Balford
I am a Man of Questionable Intent
| Wearing: Black fitted robes and a black hooded cloak | Thoughts: Where did things all go so wrong? |
 Gideon felt the very distinct urge to turn his wand onto himself. It wasn’t the first time that he had thought it in this last dark year. His skin was crawling as his blood boiled. Gideon hated that he felt relieved when Remington said that he would take over the kids protection while they were at school. He had been telling Thayer that he couldn’t let the kids go to Hogsmeade or sneak out when they were at school. But all Thayer could do was convey the message. He worked for the Ministry and was gone a lot of the time. Gideon couldn’t ask him to uproot his life. He was the only Balford left that had a shot at a decent life. Well, of the four of Froderic and Renebeth’s children. Already Chase, Hildy and Matty had such upheaval in their lives.
Not that he trusted Remington. Not totally. But Gideon’s arm relaxed. He stepped closer, letting his elbow bend down, his wand still pointed at Remington, but only now to enforce his point. “If you hurt those kids, no amount of contacts will hide you from me.” Not referring to the physical sense of pain and he was sure that Remington knew it. Sooner or later, the kids were going to know the truth. It was only right that they should eventually have the answers. Chase was buoyant and never seemed to let anything effect him, but Gideon knew that it upset him. Not knowing who his father was, wondering if his father knew of him and if he did perhaps he just didn’t care to have contact. Over the fifteen years of the boys life he had heard these thoughts voiced from time to time. It killed him.
And sweet little Hildy. Thayer said that she and Matty were already growing apart, the issue of their father’s supposed guilt separating the brother and sister that had once been so close. Finding out that the father that she had so staunchly defended for all of these years was not her father had been upsetting enough for her, but what would happen if her younger brother found out? What about Renebeth? Such scandal. He wouldn’t doubt that she might very well cut Hildy and Chase from the family, just keeping Matthias close. The older two would bring too much shame to the family name if the truth got out.
What a mess, for all of them. Gideon pocketed his wand and stepped back, walking away while Remington was still talking, but his foot faltered at the mention of William. A fresh stab of guilt. He knew that the elder Nott was a good man, devoted to his job. But it hadn’t been enough for Gid. The Ministry hit a wall and they could go no further. Gid had left to get past that wall and he did. He knew every detail of Marta and Marcus’ lives, many that he wished that he didn’t know. He had threatened, even tortured for the information that he needed. But each lead fizzled out. All of this for nothing.
But he would keep on. It didn’t matter how long it took. He couldn’t go back until he found Marta’s killer. Maybe even not then. The kids had been his only worry. He loved his brother and trusted him implicitly. He had done the wards around the family’s estate. But when they left for school, Matty was still protected at home but he had been panicked wondering how to keep them safe at Hogwarts. Luckily Chase was playing along for Hildy’s sake. But this year Hildy would be a third year, she would be allowed to go to Hogsmeade. Regardless he knew that beneath her dark eyes, trouble was stirring. She had a rebel’s heart and sorrow wasn’t going to weigh it down for much longer.
But if Remington was there and had men stationed in Hogsmeade…Merlin help him. Had he fallen so far that this man was better suited to protect them than he was? Gideon pulled the dark hood up, shadows enveloping his angled features. His chin and cheeks were covered with dark stubble and his mouth was set in a permanent scowl. Where had he been all this time?
“Hell, Nott. I’ve been in hell. You know the territory. Leave word at Hog’s Head if you hear anything. I’ll be watching you.” His icy blue eyes were hidden deep in the darkness of the hood but they sparkled with uncertainty. He hated Remington, but he was thankful. He didn’t trust him, but after two years of living amongst the scum of society, he found him nearly reputable. He didn’t want him near the kids, but he was the only other person that he thought could help. He once thought that there was no depths to which Remington Nott would not sink, now he was hoping that at the very least he could care about his own blood.
Too much rested on it. The only way to rectify it was to find out who had killed Marta and was trying to break into the Balford Estate and kill them. Then the kids could be safe and he could go back to having no contact with the younger Nott at all. It killed him that Chase was going to, one day or another find out that this was his father. Would he want to know the man? Would he be able to take it when this man felt so little for him? And would Gid be around to be there for him? Would Chase even want him around. He lingered there for a moment, his eyes locked on Remington but his thoughts a million miles away.
With a swirl of bright light turning dark and a hiss of black smoke, Gideon Apparated away. Leaving behind a soft message floating on the wind almost inaudible. “You take care of those kids.” He had a mission of Xilan tonight. But he would check in on his contacts first. He hated it, but he could not help but feel some small measure of relief. This must be what it felt like to make a deal with the devil. |
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Essy ze Ninja Vice Captain
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Posted: Wed May 02, 2012 6:21 am
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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 not dared to pivot back, and instead, grazed his lips against the splattered sky of blues and pinks, yellows and reds, sparkling blues and ever imminent wisps of white. Trepid gold and lucid green eyes sought the answers riddled in the stars above him, never once, turning back around to face the man that had succumbed so deeply within tangible ribbons of searing darkness. He didn’t have to turn to look and see it, he could feel it.
Crawling beneath his skin like paranoia, he could taste the ominous threat of death hanging in the air suspended by the strands of life and time itself. Cosmic ribbons strung the man behind him, who was left with nothing. Fate had curled her precious strands around his throat, weighing him down and watching him choke, until those little gems of crystalline baby blues surged forth from the skull upon explosive impact.
No, Remington didn’t have to turn around to see the ties that held Gideon together. The crystal incision around the man’s throat—no doubt, but the work of Edvard Montague, a man of dirt and grime, as Remington is to salt and smoke. The lacerations that tore into the muscle of the man behind him, from a toy, a tool—the work of Haven LeBlanc—another, whom Remington had come to know, but the thickest, the strongest, were his own. Remington’s strands of purposeful lies and truths had bound Gideon at the wrists, nearly cut him off at the ankles. Invisible ties that only the damned could see, because only the damned could taste it.
He never turned back. Remington stood statuesque and regal, but the moment those last fleeting words had touched upon the face of the earth with such a bare breath of wind—Remington sank. He knew his nephew would be safe, he was sure of it as he slumped down to his knees, half a mind to cast himself off the edge and find just how much life is truly worth saving for.
His son, his engagement, his exile, all of it fell on heavy shoulders as the deep blood velvet curtains tore away at either side to shed the truth of memories from the vault it was locked within. Fortified by iron, and salt, and stone, and metal, and fire, Remington’s ostentatious pride stood against the test of time. Forceful revelation worming through the sure fire crack growing with the sentiment of his despair.
The waves crashed below his feet, suspended just over the edge of the open cliff near the docks at bay. He waves his wand, if only for the moment, to usher forth a premise of defensive wards and charms halfheartedly.
His mind was elsewhere.
Prying through details, through the shattered remnants of his grandmother’s private island, picking up the pieces and manually scrubbing away the blood stained tile floors that marred not only his home, but his mind, spirit, and heart.
At such a young age, it was said that this trauma had been the spitfire rounds that erupted Remington into a maniacal beast—but Remington knew it to be untrue.
If anything, he had learned from his mistakes of revenge.
He learned to always shoot to kill—
Dead men don’t testify.
╔══════════════╗
Location: Lough Erne Dock
╚══════════════╝
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Posted: Sun Oct 06, 2013 4:35 pm
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Essy ze Ninja Vice Captain
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Essy ze Ninja Vice Captain
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Posted: Sun Oct 06, 2013 4:42 pm
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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
[Enter Scene from Remington’s Loft]
Light and color stretched and concaved together, bending through the rip of space and time as it tore their limbs from one edge of the world and very deftly sprung them to another with a subtle little pop. The wooden dock structured under their feet was worn from lack of proper care, and thus far, nothing of interest stuck out. The villa was located on the northern inlet, hidden behind too many enchantments to count. Lower Lough Erne stretched for miles on choppy waters riled up by the wind while Upper Lough Erne was speckled with a maze of island, nearly impossible to navigate without some degree of skill. Behind them, a small patch of woods stretched to elude wanderers from the oddity of the docks set up so out of place. Dahlia clung to him still, in this abstract moment of silence while they shook off the effects of the apparation they plunged through.
”Ten minutes,” Remington promised as he waved his wand and dispelled the disillusionment charm he’d cast so many years ago. A gleaming pearl luxurious yacht suddenly manifest from thin air, docked on the harbor as if it’d been there all this time. Another slow, articular curl of his wand in elaborate swirls, the white extending walkway stretched from the boat to the dock to allow easy access. ”After you my dear,” he smirked imperiously, his thoughts now treading curiously to the wonders that would be overtaking her mind this very second. All the ponderous possibilities of where he could be taking her, of what this safehouse was exactly, and just how isolated she might now be. It was times like these he’d wished her pursued legilimency rather than Occlumency, but, too late. Once aboard, a flick of his wand was sparked the engine to purr and blinked each light on on the dashboard.
”If I may…” he began with a daunting drawl, a symphony of darkness pluming to a delicate miasma; a poison too sweet to resist. ”What are you thinking…?” It wasn’t often, if ever, that he’d ever dare ask this, (though he had no qualms with her boasting of herself. It was cute, sometimes.) And if he ever did, it had usually been under the influence of one too many brandy’s.
How much had been drank already, he wondered?
╔══════════════╗
40 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.
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Posted: Mon Oct 07, 2013 9:44 pm
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 Dahlia is...spacespacespacespace CURRENTLY // Wearing at Locationspace
CURRENTLY // separated from Wesley Edgeworth // 'loving' Remington Nottspaces
CURRENTLY WITH // Remingtonspacesp
CURRENTLY FEELING // Gratefulspacespa
CURRENTLY THINKING // 'He always asks that question at the worst of times...' spacespac
You belong to me, my snow white queen.
There's nowhere to run, so let's just get it over it.' ═════════════════════════════════
Dahlia stood still so that she could regain hr sense of balance after Remington apparated, watching him dispel the wards and disable the security measures. When a ship appeared before them, she cocked an eyebrow. She wondered if this were his 'safe place,' or if there was somewhere he was taking her. She did as he asked and boarded the ship, somewhat uncomfortable. She hadn't been on a boat in a very, very long time, and if she recalled correctly, she'd spent much of the trip throwing up. She'd always assumed it was seasickness... but now, doing the math, she realized it was more likely morning sickness. She'd have been very early into her pregnancy with Damien at the time.
She stared out at the water, her eyes serious, but calm. No longer was she afraid for herself'; she had faith that Remington would take care of her. But the question he posted caught her off-guard, and she glanced at him, a strange look in her eye. "Just thinking how fortunate I am that you enjoyed our game well enough to grow attached to me. Otherwise, I'd be far worse off at the moment." He must be attached, after all; if not, he'd hardly bother with this endeavor. He could have simply used her for his carnal needs and slammed the door in her face when she needed him. But, he hadn't, and for that she was grateful. She sighed a bit, leaning on the railing. Her head was swimming, ever so slightly, and she knew that she'd drank enough to spill her secrets, if she'd had any to spill. But she couldn't think of a single thing that Remington didn't already know. He'd been her confidant long enough, pried the words from her lips with Scotch and eyes bent on seduction. She didn't care to fight; it was far too much fun for her to be on the other side. And this wasn't a game, not now. Later, perhaps, they could fall back into that rhythm, but she was far too relieved, and he clearly too distressed from whatever ordeal he'd suffered, for it to be played now. So, she satisfied herself with the knowledge that, for now, she was safe.
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Soon, I know you'll see you're just like me.'
(( OOC: ))
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Essy ze Ninja Vice Captain
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Posted: Thu Oct 10, 2013 11:17 am
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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
The galling wind struck maliciously against his flesh, whipping his robes in tow and chopping the water beneath them until the boat began to rock in place. He slipped his wand back inside the safe confines of his inner pockets and pushed the throttle into gear. The engine purred, and they took off. He spun a glance over his shoulder to find her against the railing, deep in an ocean of thoughts. ”Azkaban is no place for a lady—and even so,
“I know how to protect what’s mine.” Impassive, he hadn’t seemed to shutter at the realization of what his spoken words just meant. It was clear enough to him, now, so it should be to her as well. She had never really been, emotionally, or mentally, in the claims of Wesley, and now it only drove the point, that he didn’t so much as physically possess her anymore. But Remington did, and he’d always been a greedy, greedy little boy from birth. He’d sooner break what wasn’t his, than to see it in the hands of someone else. He’d sooner break skulls than to relinquish what he deemed was his by right. He’d sooner burn the kingdom that owned him, just so if it meant he could become king of the ashes.
Women were no different.
In the distance, the speckle of islands soared past them as they lurched over the breaking waves and swung into a wide turn where the maze of islands began. The winds eased as their speed had, and he was left to carefully circumnavigate through the shallow waters and treacherous seaweed grasping to the surface like hands from Hell. In the distance, Remington could already see the whitewashed rock where his villa was constructed, even though it was hidden away by concealment charms and repelling charms. Several minutes toiled, but he safely reached under the veil of wards, which, now fully allowed vision of the gleaning white house and the garden sprawled across it. ”We’re here,” he made no gesture as he docked the ship and set forth with each enchantment and ward he’d need.
[Move Scene to Private Island.?] ╔══════════════╗
40 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.
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