When it comes to how to live his life he can't be told Says he's got it all under control Thinks he knows it's not a problem he's stuck with But in reality it'd be a problem to just quit
An addict and he can't hold the reins The pain is worse cause his friends have it the same Tries to slow down the problem he's got But can't get off the carousel until he makes it stop
He can only fool himself for so long He can only fool himself for so long He can only fool himself for so long He can only fool himself…
Remington Jagger Nott
Shadows churned around the cog and grind of his tightened jawbones and scraping teeth. Remington’s patience had weathered into sands of gold and each grain was a drop of time. Almost haughtily Remington had wanted to instigate but he recoiled, bit the tongue until it bled. The taste of copper lingered after it drowned in his throat. Patience ripped at his soul. Steadily, his eyes pierced the young couple as the male stole the lead, Damien, he rememebered him briefly from class. He also knew the name well, but the family he knew best. The woeful death of his mother, and yes, the interrogation that had once followed up but then, never again.
The heroic gesture had been a folly, and then the young fiery witch captivated him with a steely grace. She could do so much better, he thought, nearly almost laughed. Blood purist and family lineage aside, oh yes, he firmly believed it so. Damien was… lacking. Dahlia had been true in her words, truer than he’d once believe though not nearly so pitiful as she’d dramaticized. Still, he saw her regal features in him.
At first, he hadn’t the notion to pay Marina any mind as her low voice rattled like the tail of a snake. His ears pricked, but his mind had already drifted to sea. But then he’d heard it, the call of temptation. It was blackmail, extortion, and greed in one sultry swirl and a slow, deep breath exhaled through flared nostrils. Hogwarts, she said, school governor, she dangled.
Wesley. His lip curled down. He thought he was done with him. But he smiled; he had too. This insufferable brat wouldn’t have it any other way.
”Hm,” he closed his eyes and smiled wider, mind drilling for time. ”Well, I’m quite sure Mr. Edgeworth and I would be very thrilled to aid you in this quest, and, you’ll have to explain in detail, of course… But I have to wonder why on earth would a brilliant witch such as yourself not go to the authorities first?
“What you’re claiming can be considered quite heinous. It would be just terrible if anyone had gotten the wrong idea...” Remington paused and the poison dripped. But did he dare to risk i; the ministry dogs breathing down his back again? A vein in his neck twitched. Had she already informed anyone? He...He didn’t know.
”...However,” he breathed slowly. ”...I’m sure we can come to some arrangement.”I’m going to Hell.
╔══════════════╗ 40 years old ♛ 6’3” ♛ 172lbs Home ♛ Office ♛ Island ╚══════════════╝
The Forgotten Weasley
Cara MiaKitty
Posted: Tue Feb 04, 2014 8:27 pm
Holywater cannot help you now A thousandarmies couldn't keep me out I don't want your money, I don't want your crown See, I've come to burn your kingdomdown
Holywater cannot help you now See, I've come to burn your kingdomdown And no rivers and no lakes can put the fire out I'm gonna raise the stakes, I'm gonna smokeyou out
MARINA EUGENIE ALDRED PROUD HALFBLOOD SLYTHERIN SEVENTH YEAR PREFECT AND HEAD GIRL BRITISH YOUTH REPRESENTATIVE TO THE WIZENGAMOT
Seven devils all around you: Alert | Seven devils in your house: This is the place... | See, you were dead when you woke up this morning: Damien and Remington | And you'll be dead before the day is done: The Spiny Serpent
Okay, so maybe bluffing that she'd report his sorry arse to the Ministry hadn't been the single best idea Marina had ever had. But it had been the only thing she could think of, and it had worked. Sort of... She just had to talk her way through this. Somehow. "Thank you for the compliment, sir," she nearly sneered but restrained herself just barely. You don't get to ask questions, creep! the voice inside her head was shrieking, but she let it go. She regarded him with a too calm expression, one side of her mouth quirking a little, as if she knew something he didn't. She didn't, not really, but he wouldn't know that, now would he? "Well," she said slowly. "I'm only interested in one thing. The record of the sale. The entire record," she clarified, in case he tried to somehow find a loophole, which is what she would be doing if she were him. "As for what you want..." she shrugged offhandedly, as if not very worried. "Well, besides not having your shop door kicked down by some people with badges... I don't know. What do you want?" She smiled, but it was much more like showing a gleam of teeth. "If you give me what I came for, I can promise you your shop will probably be left alone... unless you manage to dig your own grave yourself."Which I wouldn't be surprised by."And you won't see us in here ever again."Unless I find out you somehow tricked me, because then I'll be back with an angry mob. Dark thoughts? Probably, but she was far past the time where she could think lightly about any of this. She just wanted answers, and she was going to get them, one way or another.
Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear, not absence of fear.
Essy ze Ninja
Cara MiaKitty
((Mia said I could pass over Damien))
And now all your love will be exorcised And we will find your sayings to be paradox And it's an evensum, it's a melody It's a battlecry, it's a symphony
They can keep me out, 'til I tear the walls 'Til I take your heart, and I take your soul For what has been done, cannot be undone In the evil'sheart, in the evil'ssoul
When it comes to how to live his life he can't be told Says he's got it all under control Thinks he knows it's not a problem he's stuck with But in reality it'd be a problem to just quit
An addict and he can't hold the reins The pain is worse cause his friends have it the same Tries to slow down the problem he's got But can't get off the carousel until he makes it stop
He can only fool himself for so long He can only fool himself for so long He can only fool himself for so long He can only fool himself…
Remington Jagger Nott
”Hn,” the audible note dared to scoff. His decision was already made; it clicked into the cogs and churned the gears into motion. But he loomed statuesque in place, almost deliberating, biding his time. Do it, the venom flooded his brain. Call them, do it, I’ll do it for you, he snapped but bit back the cruelty trickling against his teeth. What have I become, the thought rang hollow in his chest, heart mechanically pumping blood through his veins but it felt no more alive than his darling former lover. What’s come of her, anyway, the toxicity relished in his core. He’d seen nor heard her gracing presence in so long, too long. Hmmmm…
”If I could only be so lucky,” he spat. If he never saw them again, it would be too soon. The thought of their imminent disappearance from his storefront, from his life, was all too sweet. But it was lies. He knew it was. Remington had known this for years. Marina had only just begun to scratch the surface. ”You won’t like what you find, I’m afraid.” He spoke impassively; his gaze finally flickered from Marina’s eyes to Damien. He stiffened his posture, shoulders square and pushed back, spine straight. ”It’s this way,” his bare whisper haunted thick in the air, rolling so quiet, but heavy enough to tear.
Dragonhide boots spun on its heel as he slithered across the floors. He wouldn’t wait for them. Wispy steps fluttered along an aisle of wares; a pile of skeletal bones, wax candles and a matryoshka doll resided among them. Near the rear corner of the shop were two doors, the one he’d appeared from which led to a dimly let stairwell up to his loft above, while the other led to the messy storage room where desks cluttered in leaflets and scrolls of parchments were pushed against the wall and a slew crates piled on top of crates were stacked with the scribble of either ‘fakes’ or ‘cursed’ had been etched into the side. He left the storage room door wide open behind him.
Filing cabinets lined the back walls, each drawer labeled with recent years past, but to get there was a maze. Knickknacks and oddities fill boxes to the brim, some as simple as children’s toys and others as expansive and old as historical weaponry and armor, bejeweled crowns, circlets, and tool after tool for blacksmithing and smelting and farm work and textiles and construction. The most prominent piece was the large dragon’s head skull that hung from the ceiling just overhead, its fangs nearly the size of his arms. But Remington swam through the clutter like it wasn’t even there, stepped over a taut string that stretched from an enchanted loom dotted with rot in its wood. His fingers curled around the handles of two different drawers in separate rows against the filing cabinets. Folders and parchment fluttered, but nothing that could be summoned to him, unfortunately. Maybe that was a mistake of an enchantment, but it certainly had its uses at times, and he couldn’t deny that. As he thumbed through, he began to realize something. Someone…. Someone’s been here already. A silent hiss raked between clenched teeth as his pace hurried and trifled through folders and documents; mismatched and out of order and others were entirely missing. Like this one, the one he needed. Over his shoulder, he could feel their eyes trained on his back. Dammit, Ilari, damn you. Of course she’d stolen it. Nadya was the distraction upstairs and only Ilari would have known how to breech through his walls. ******** heart raced as he closed the cabinet and pulled two more open, flipping through the scattered remnants until his fingers found a blank page scattered amongst the rest. Inscribo, his thoughts trained. Ink burned into the parchment hidden under his shadow, and its slow crawl painted even as he turned around to glance at them each in turn. His tongue grazed the bottom of his teeth. ”Here.” He offered, just as the last magical effect had faded and the words sat vivid in its wake. ”Now get out; it’s all I ask.”
Date: March 22 2023 Item: Golden trimmed frame and portrait Description: 3x5m sized frame, steel material painted gold, chipped and worn, featuring portrait of dark contrasting hues of redheaded woman Enchantments: protective enchantments, wards, barriers; repelling, flame freezing, protego charms, etc Specific Requests: do not counter finite incantatem Buyer/Seller: D. V. Wynters Payment: 115 galleons paid in full
╔══════════════╗ 40 years old ♛ 6’3” ♛ 172lbs Home ♛ Office ♛ Island ╚══════════════╝
The Forgotten Weasley
Cara MiaKitty
Posted: Mon Mar 03, 2014 8:11 pm
Damien is...spacespacespacespace CURRENTLY // LookingUncomfortableinthe Spiny Serpentspace CURRENTLY // lovingMarina Aldredspaces CURRENTLY WITH // Marinaspacesp CURRENTLY FEELING // Nervousspacespa CURRENTLY THINKING // 'Why do I get the feeling that this is a horrible idea?'spacespac ∳ ∳ ∳The strands in your eyes that color them wonderful stop me and steal my breath. And emeralds from mountains thrust towards the sky, never revealing their depth.∳ ∳ ∳ ═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════
spaceDamien fought the urge to glare at Marina bringing his Father into this mess. Not that he thought Wesley would be opposed, but he'd always worked very hard at keeping their family name clean. Damien was reluctant to involve him, even just in name, in anything like this. More than that, he was pretty sure the first thing the man would've said had they brought this up with him was to involve the authorities... which was precisely why he'd not broached the subject of telling him with Marina. It was bad enough that she was essentially threatening the man, but using his father... then again, that was what such social relationships were for, right? The father he'd known in his youth would've been impressed. The man he was now... Damien wasn't so sure, actually.
spaceThe seventh year kept his expression neutral, however, and watched Nott carefully as he responded. He listened as the two of them 'negotiated,' trying to keep an eye out for any sign of mischief on the man's part, but saw nothing. He took the paper from him before Marina could, not willing to give him an opportunity to touch her, threaten her or impose his will. His eyes glanced down at the paper to see if it was, indeed, the bill of sale, and he was unable to stop himself from checking the name on it... his eyes narrowed."Marina, let's go. Now,"he said, his voice unusually firm. Typically he didn't order her about... typically, she did the ordering. But in this instance, his expression and tone should've been enough to tell even her that it was a bad idea to argue.
═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════ ∳ ∳ ∳I'll be your crying shoulder, I'll be love's suicide I'll be better when I'm older, I'll be the greatest fan of your life.∳ ∳ ∳
Holywater cannot help you now A thousandarmies couldn't keep me out I don't want your money, I don't want your crown See, I've come to burn your kingdomdown
Holywater cannot help you now See, I've come to burn your kingdomdown And no rivers and no lakes can put the fire out I'm gonna raise the stakes, I'm gonna smokeyou out
MARINA EUGENIE ALDRED PROUD HALFBLOOD SLYTHERIN SEVENTH YEAR PREFECT AND HEAD GIRL BRITISH YOUTH REPRESENTATIVE TO THE WIZENGAMOT
Seven devils all around you: Alert | Seven devils in your house: This is the place... | See, you were dead when you woke up this morning: Damien and Remington | And you'll be dead before the day is done: The Spiny Serpent
Marina wrestled with her feelings inside, but remained a blank slate on the outside. She kept glancing at Damien. Was he upset with her? Probably, she thought guiltily, she had brought his father into this mess, after all. She felt twisted up inside, like her insides were coiled up in knots. That had been a low move. But what else could she have done? Left quietly and went "oh well?"? She was getting desperate, and she was getting scared and she just wanted this whole thing to end. She watched Damien take the paper from the man, and saw his eyes narrow as he looked at it. She looked back at Remington, and nodded calmly. "Thank you." She wasn't even sure if she meant it sarcastically or seriously. He had given her what she wanted, after all. Finally, she'd made some progress.
So why did she feel like she'd taken two steps back instead?
Damien's tone was one that wasn't open to discussion. Normally, she would've bristled at him ordering her around like a child... but right now she felt like an ashamed child, so maybe it was appropriate. "Okay, Damien," she said simply. "Let's go."
Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear, not absence of fear.
Essy ze Ninja
Cara MiaKitty
And now all your love will be exorcised And we will find your sayings to be paradox And it's an evensum, it's a melody It's a battlecry, it's a symphony
They can keep me out, 'til I tear the walls 'Til I take your heart, and I take your soul For what has been done, cannot be undone In the evil'sheart, in the evil'ssoul
Ravenclaw Alumni / Unemployed / Just came from: Here / Wearing: This
A slight figure in a brown blazer, trousers, and knee-high boots appeared with a sharp crack just a few feet outside of the door to the Spiny Serpent. The figure yawned and reached up to run a hand through their already messy brown hair, the motion caused a her thin knuckle ring to catch the light for a moment. Apparating always made her sleepy for some reason. Any other day she would have ridden her bicycle here, but it was a hot day, and she didn't want to show up to a potential employer all sweaty and more mussed than normal. A pair of bright hazel eyes examined the door. Was this the place?
Lutheil stood outside for a few more minutes, simply staring at the door with her arms crossed, thinking. Her behavior attracted a few stares of it's own, she looked quite out of place. Lutheil didn't look nervous in the slightest, nor did she look dangerous enough to be able to act relaxed. Actually, she looked rather friendly, her mouth was ever so slightly smiling. Black knocker, no sign. Luthiel thought. She briefly looked over her shoulder to have a glance at her other surroundings And off Knockturn alley as well... Hopefully this was the right place. Well what was the worse that could happen if she was wrong? The Dark Arts didn't particularly frighten her, that didn't mean she had a healthy amount of respect for it, she just saw it as another perfectly viable branch of magic. And there was a certain amount of beauty to the Dark Arts as well... In her eyes anyway.
She took another moment to try and smooth down her hair, which was sticking every which way as normal, then opened the door.
Lutheil poked her head in, and in a cheerful voice said "Hello! Is this the Spiny Serpent by any chance?" While she waited for a reply, she did a quick glance-over of the shop. The place was dusty for starters...Damn, was that what she thought it was? In a flash she had crossed the room and was now closely examining a candelabrum with several skulls of various size incorporated into the structure. Her mind now completely somewhere else now, she began to mumble under her breath "Good condition, Patina's still unoxidized... Minimal warping..." Another object grabbed her attention, this time it was a harp. Lutheil resisted the sudden urge to pluck a string, there was no way that could end well. She mooned over the harp for a bit, then yet another object distracted her. Lutheil flitted from object to object, never touching, but always looking intently, trying to examine every little detail she could without whipping out her wand and having some real fun. At some point her murmurings of observations turned into the song "Electricity is in my soul". Softly she continued "Night is the key that unravels everything~" There was quite a bit of dust in the air thanks to her zig-zagging across the floor towards the varied sources of her curiosity. "I know you don't like how I feed but please try to remember it's natural for a thing like me~" This place was like a candy shop for her, so many bits of darkness, so many interesting items!
All my life I've been over the top I don't know what I'm doing all I know is I don't wanna stop All fired up, I'm gonna go 'til I drop
Everywhere I look around I see how everyone aught to be
Every time I see myself I see there's always something wrong with me
𝑹𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒕𝒐𝒏 𝑱𝒂𝒈𝒈𝒆𝒓 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒕
𝑂 𝑐 𝑐 𝑙 𝑢 𝑚 𝑒 𝑛 𝑠
”Curiouser.” The drawl of his breath hung suspended in the stagnant air of his shop. The dust, grit and grime clung to the walls and floorboard, the only thing its ghastly exuberance hadn't sunk its claws in were the actual relics themselves. Each one shined with pristine clarity in the light that dawned in on each casing. It was midday, or at least he supposed, he hadn't unshackled himself from his current work of art that sat shrewdly on the top of his ostentatious desk. It was a life size hand; immaculately detailed gemstone carved of rutilated quartz and masterfully polished. His desk was an enormous and enchanted oddity in of itself, too. Its thick oak surface was meticulously carved with the details of an enchanted serpent slithering from one table leg to the next, occasionally it would hiss, and its grainy eyes of polished wood would veer around the room until it decided to slither round and round again. Remington clutched the handle of a glass casing and gently admonished the covering over the gemstone carving and then stood deliberately. 'The rutile in the quartz is highly refractive and of a different hardness, it shouldn't matter, but it seems to be affecting the curse all the more,' he realized, which only seemed to further complicate matters. He peeled the gloves off of his fingers, discarded it before he disappeared into the back room of his shop.
It couldn't have been five minutes from his disappearance that a young woman (considerably younger than himself, in any case) had manifest through the doorway. Though, she would find little else than its wares cast on display for now. The silver strands of the harpsichord glittered teasingly and the wax placed in the accursed candleholders seemed slick and wet as if it were about to melt; the darkness in the eye sockets glimmered faint.
In the back, Remington caught the voice that fluttered between cracks and crannies, and it told him two things. One, a woman was in his shop, and while that wasn't at all out of the ordinary, the second he noticed was. 'Happiness,' the emotion seemed scant as of late from the alley. More so than usual...
His footsteps bellowed out from behind the creak of a door and a man dually poised of silk and steel had sauntered in. Dark of hair and golden eyed, he towered near six feet high with robust shoulders and sinewy limbs with a mane of ferocious dark hair and a beard that was beginning to grow unruly. He donned an oddity of armor, a breastplate which featured a prancing hound inlay with onyx gems across the chest, cushioned by a doublet and leather vest. His cloak was of a thick, heavy material that dragged behind and its metal clasp dug in to the flesh between his clavicles. His dragonhide boots were partially hidden beneath a pair of dark breeches. ”Hello,” he greeted, solemn and stern but curious. ”Do you often sing to alert others of your presence?” A whimsical brow had risen on his forehead; the slight jest was little else than a provocation (though somehow still spoken in monotone.) Just another catalyst waiting for a reaction.
But he was amused, to say the least. Her trail of disturbed dust had yet to settle back down to the grit and grime glory. He eyed her up and down quickly; short cropped hair, basic muggle clothing, and barely enough jewelry to even catch a glint of light. 'Not pure of blood, or not indoctrinated so,' he mused. 'Maybe even muggleborn,' he pondered. She'd blend in easily enough.
”Can I help you?” A simple enough question, but his knowing stare seemed to allude to far more than one answer—far more than one truth.
╔══════════════╗ 44 years old ♛ 6’3” ♛ 172lbs Home ♛ Office ♛ Island ╚══════════════╝
Lutheil had been oogling a very curious little pendant, and completely lost in her own thoughts when she first heard a voice. Immediately, in a single fluid motion, she drew her wand from her blazer pocket and snapped towards direction of the voice. She held her wand trained on the source for a short beat, her eyes deadly serious, her face devoid of her previous mirth. Then she registered what was going on, and slipped her wand back into her pocket with a small sincere apologetic smile. The pocket didn't bulge in the slightest, as standard for her it had a undetectable extension charm on all of the pockets. "Sorry... you surprised me. Hello." Lutheil rubbed the back of her head, slightly embarrassed that she reacted like that. It was probably for the best that he had spoken up though, she could've easily gotten lost for several hours among the various items.
The source of the greeting was a rather serious man, who was curiously enough, in armor. Huh. Her mind quickly processed the details of the man, "Interesting choice, fine workmanship on the details though. She tilted her head slightly to the side, considering the effort it must have taken to make it. It didn't take her very long to come up with a rough guess on the cost of the breast place. Which obviously was, a lot. At his question about her singing to announce her presence, she grinned. He seemed slightly amused, which was much better than annoyed. "Of course not! But I guess I do it a bit when I get a little wrapped up in something." At his final question she opened her mouth to give an immediate answer, but closed it when she realized that she wasn't quite sure why she was here anymore... Her brow furrowed as she continued to attempt to recall this particular tidbit of information, and she bit her lip. Nervously she laughed lightly "Um. That's a good question actually, let me check."
Lutheil pulled out a folded piece of parchment from the inner pocket of her blazer, and unfolded it. It was surprisingly large, nearly a foot and a half in length. It was her great list of things-to-do, she made a new one every week and updated it constantly. It gave her something to go back to when she forgot why she was doing something, or what she had planned/needed to do. It had taken her a long time (three years actually) to get to the point where it was an effective way of keeping herself organized. She glanced down the list, happily noting that a great deal of it was crossed off. Finally she got to a roughly scribbled bullet point that said "Search for job, money running out." then noted several places she had heard were hiring. Lutheil glanced around at the shop again, she could see herself happily working here.
A friendly smile on her face, she stowed the list away. Her brain began cooperating again, and she was surprised about how much she could recall. "I remember now, about two years ago I heard this place was hiring. Erm... I was wondering if you still were. You are Mr.Nott right?" She ran a hand through her hair, which really only resulted in it being messy in a slightly different manner. The look in her eye turned hopeful, this could be the shift in luck she had been waiting for. "I've been looking for a job in curse breaking, and this is supposed to be the best place in London for that. I do have a bit of experience in the field, even did a bit of freelancing last year in Transylvania, but I'm not at the point where I can make-" Whoops, quite the Freudian slip she thought to herself, Better laugh it off
Lutheil had no intention of letting on how much she was actually into curses and the Dark Arts, answering questions from an Auror while strapped to a chair sounded like a horrid time. Lutheil followed her quickly concocted cover-up, laughed it off, and continued, although perhaps a touch more nervously "Ha, um. I mean break of course, some of the older, or stronger curses." She was about to open her mouth to continue rambling, but stopped herself and instead chose to shut herself up and smile at him. He seemed alright, a bit stiff, stuffy, and serious, but he had shown a touch of humor just now right?
All my life I've been over the top I don't know what I'm doing all I know is I don't wanna stop All fired up, I'm gonna go 'til I drop You're either in or in the way, don't make me I don't wanna stop.
Everywhere I look around I see how everyone aught to be
Every time I see myself I see there's always something wrong with me
𝑹𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒕𝒐𝒏 𝑱𝒂𝒈𝒈𝒆𝒓 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒕
𝑂 𝑐 𝑐 𝑙 𝑢 𝑚 𝑒 𝑛 𝑠
He was taken aback; the abrupt shift in her posture and demeanor was autonomic, a calculated precision deeply imbedded into the brain, and if anything, it only served to make him all the more fascinated. Because what ordinary woman on any ordinary day would feel provoked unless there was a history, a troubled past, so to say. It breathed life into a world that was otherwise just plastic. To him, she (like everyone else) was just a riddle, a little toy that he could bend and break, dissect its insides and throw it away when it was no longer a point of interest. And somehow along the way, he made a living off of these broken pieces. ”Perfectly understandable,” he mused. Who was he to say otherwise?
”Quite the roll of parchment you have there,” he acknowledged with a tilt of his head. 'An eccentric one,' he chalked her up in a finely marked package, to try and make sense of it all. 'So maybe she is halfblood? Maybe even pure, who's to say?' His thoughts spun like little blades trying to peel the outer layer to see what lurks beneath (both cloth, and flesh.) He had to reel himself back before he got carried away. Wasn't he supposed to be too busy plotting against one woman in his life—not trying to make room for the possibility of another? He cleared his throat. ”I was, and I do suppose I still am.” He slithered several paces towards his desk, fluid strides walking on air. He swiveled around to face her and reclined himself against the wooden edge; the enchanted serpent twirled from table leg to table leg as a mass of grainy wood.
”Please, just Remington is fine.” He waved a simple hand. Ha! As if it were so easy to wipe away the slate of his familial heraldry. ”I wouldn't say the best place, but...” Still, the paid compliment had managed to coax a cocky smile out of him. ”Transylvania you say, impressive. I've spent quite a few years in Europe, though regrettably not there.
“So I presume you have basic knowledge of cursebreaking then, yes? What sort of position would you be interested in? I'm in need of a relic hunter, someone to travel across countries and investigate certain leads, a dirty job, to be sure, though I do have need of another cursebreaker and enchanter, as well of course, as the ever vigilant receptionist—I've always a never ending supply of paperwork.”
[OOC: Sorry for the wait and the blah post. Rem has always been one of my more particularly finicky characters.]]
╔══════════════╗ 44 years old ♛ 6’3” ♛ 172lbs Home ♛ Office ♛ Island ╚══════════════╝
Lutheil was practically over the moon when she heard that Mr. Nott, or Remington as he apparently wanted to be referred to, was still hiring. It showed too, she was beaming by the time he had started to explain the positions he needed to have filled. She had started off today's job hunt with the expectation of having to do something along the lines of shelving books, taking orders for food, other small jobs. Now she certainly seemed to be staring in the face of the opportunity to have some serious fun, and be able to have enough money for essentials like food and books.
As for what position to apply for, even Lutheil didn't trust herself to be organized enough to handle paperwork on that scale. Honestly she was still half surprised that she had managed to both sell her family home and buy a house without accidentally selling her soul or something. Plus, the idea of sitting at a desk all day sounded like... Boredom. Being bored while surrounded by dark and enchanted objects would lead to trouble. Interesting trouble to be sure, but somehow Lutheil doubted even the most well-humored of bosses would put up with her shenanigans. Particularly when they would probably end up being some-what legal at best and quite risky at the least.
And although she had originally came here with the intention to be a cursebreaker and enchanter, the idea of being able to travel, and poke her nose into new things about magic, sounded much more enticing. Lutheil had only ended her five year streak of being a vagabond because her father had kicked the bucket and left a bit of a mess for her to clean up, and having the chance to travel again sounded beyond fantastic. Even better it would be a, hopefully, steady job. The fact remained that she had first heard about this shop while out of the country, somewhere in Ukraine (probably in a dank pub over a few drinks specifically), any shop with a reputation that branching had to have a steady stream of clients. Right?
With a bright grin Lutheil said "Well it's a good thing I don't really mind grime, because I've got to say, the position for relic hunter sounds beyond perfect." At this point she was practically radiating enthusiasm, no one could say that she didn't seem excited about the prospect of the job. Something in the back of her mind poked her. It was her common sense, and it was reminding her about accepting jobs she didn't have confirmed details on.
Her enthusiasm dimmed slightly as she considered the fact that it may be a case-by-case job which would really result in her needing another one or two to keep herself afloat. Well it certainly never hurt to ask a few questions right? (Wrong actually, she had gotten into more than a bit of trouble before by asking the wrong questions) But in this case she felt like it couldn't hurt too much.
Lutheil looked surprisingly serious as she said "Although I've got to ask, just how much traveling would be required? Would you like me to come in and help out here if there was a gap between things you needed obtained or investigated? And how much would the pay be?" She paused for a moment, as if trying to come up with a few more questions. Her smile returned, if at a slightly lower wattage as she asked. Do you like muffins?" About half-way through her thinking about if the job's possibilities, her stomach decided to edge it's way into her conscious thinking, mostly on how delicious a blueberry muffin sounded right now.
All my life I've been over the top I don't know what I'm doing all I know is I don't wanna stop All fired up, I'm gonna go 'til I drop
Everywhere I look around I see how everyone aught to be
Every time I see myself I see there's always something wrong with me
𝑹𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒕𝒐𝒏 𝑱𝒂𝒈𝒈𝒆𝒓 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒕
𝑂 𝑐 𝑐 𝑙 𝑢 𝑚 𝑒 𝑛 𝑠
'If in the least,' his thoughts mirrored his emotions, 'it'll be far more interesting than the last employee.' But to be fair, it wasn't much of a challenge. His previous assistant had been a poor excuse for a Gryffindor; he was weak willed and soft spoken, too cautious, too hesitant, too doubtful. The boy would have been eaten alive if Remington hadn't been careful with him, coddled him. Would he have to do the same all over again? 'Maybe, maybe not.' He mulled it over; he could at least give her the same chance as he would any other man. (Because certainly, he wasn't expecting to ever employ a woman in this sort of establishment, not that he would ever complain.)
It would make for a pretty little sight to see on the days where the hours just never end.
Calloused fingers combed through the scruff of his beard, a contemplative and rather mischievous glint reflected in his eyes of a wretched gold. His demeanor demanded to know more; proud and tall as any mountain. ”It won't always be simple,” he said coolly. But,'it won't always be legal,' was what he would have rather said. He shouldn't have had to, though, in this line of employment. He was already always traipsing between the line of legalities amidst the Department of Magical Equipment Control and the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts; would it really be so hard to believe that a few of his wares were acquired through less than honorable means?
He certainly hoped not. He has a reputation to uphold, after all.
”Traveling would vary per case but all expenses will be paid. Appropriators are paid salary, forty galleons a week with a twenty percent commission on each artifact; if I obtain a job for you, you'll be expected to be ready to leave at any given moment, on any given day. I understand exceptions happen, but for the most part, you'll be on call around the clock. Understand this also means that the methods for appropriations are diverse, the end justifies the means. My customers want results, not excuses. The cleaner the job, the better for you. I abstain myself from Wizengamot trials.” He needn't outright say it, but he might as well have. The Wizengamot? Why else would he toss that word around unless it was an expected and obvious occurrence, that had, at least once, already happened before.
”If this still sounds like something you'd be intrigued in, we can discuss you working around the shop at a later date if you ever get bored. But before anything else, I should at least get your name, shouldn't I?” He quirked a brow, his arm stretched to extend something out to her, and only in that last second of movement a small scroll of parchment was summoned to his fingers with a bit of a pop.”And an application, I suppose.”
Moments later, when he was provoked with her next question, his response hadn't missed a beat. ”Peaches,” he nodded decisively. ”I'd much prefer a peach to a muffin, but I suppose they aren't bad.”
Lutheil listened carefully to what he said; she didn’t want to misread what could be read in between the lines after all. By the time he had gotten to his answer regarding the delightful topic of muffins, she was compiling a short list of rules to play by. Or really, the lack of rules. So, be punctual, just about anything goes for the job itself, clean up after myself, don’t’ expect help if I’m stupid enough to get caught. Her hazel eyes took on a knowing glint, it was nice to know that he wouldn’t mind her bending a few laws here and there to do her job. Actually, he was rather strongly implying that she would have to do just that, possibly outright break a few as well, in order to deliver. Well she had no problem with that. None at all. She may have been a bit green still in comparison with the people he was used to working with, but she certainly knew how sometimes regulations could get in the way of things, and how to get around them, or cover her tracks if needed. When she wanted to do a job right, Lutheil could be quite thorough. Her weird obsessive-ish personality did come in handy in cases like this.
Lutheil could tell that Remington was analyzing her every move, or at least that’s what she was assuming. ‘Probably trying to judge on whether I’m worth the risk of hiring. Perfectly understandable, really this wasn’t really a place where you can hire any random person off the streets and expect a half-way decent job.’ More like a butchered job and a couple of Aurors or other Ministry folk making unwanted visits.
Lutheil then realized that she hadn’t really been paying attention to what he was like yet, besides the obvious fact that he was rather serious. She had only seen him smile once so far, and that was because she mentioned his shop’s reputation. Besides that his facial expressions didn’t seem to move past his eyebrows.
Her face grew slightly pink when she realized that she never really introduced herself. She had gotten too caught up in the objects, and then in finding out if this was the job for her. It looked like all of the social niceties that her Father had attempted to instill in her while he had cared had fallen a bit by the wayside. With a shy smile she said “Er, Whoops. Sorry about not introducing myself, I’m Lutheil Marcellus.” Perhaps Remington would connect her last name to the formerly renowned Venetian family of enchanted glass makers. Maybe not. Although the chances may have been a bit higher than the average wizard considering that he sold cursed and enchanted objects. “I think I’d take a muffin over a peach, but if that’s what floats your goat, then good. You’re probably living a healthier lifestyle than I am.”
Lutheil took the small scroll of parchment in the left hand, where it immediately unfurled and stiffened, as if supported by and invisible clipboard. She drew a fountain pen with a wickedly sharp black nib from the depths of her blazer breast pocket, and after a quick glance over began to fill it out. She had only penned the “L” when she suddenly withdrew her pen with a slight hiss from pain. Lutheil glanced at the back of her hand, where a small patch of skin now looked slightly irritated. The “L” on the parchment was a bright cheery red, but would without a doubt turn brown in a day or so. Blood does that. Lutheil mumbled something about it being the wrong pen, seemingly unabashed that she was carrying an instrument normally used for torture in her pocket. The pen with the black nib disappeared into her pocket again, and a different one was pulled out, this time with a steel nib. Her face dead serious, she continued writing.
A small crease appeared in the middle of her forehead a few times while she filled out the application, clearly a tad torn on what she should put down for both the special skills and the disability/incapability part. Lutheil just answered as best as she could. Dueling didn’t really count as a skill, did it? It’s no like she was a professional or anything, but she could handle herself fairly well in a duel. It was kind of a game of wits to her. Like chess, but a bit more intensive. Yeah, that didn’t really count. Playing the viola didn’t quite seem to cut it either… Well she could live with that. Now for the bit about disabilities…Her quirks were pretty much under control now, but when they weren’t they had been pretty deliberating… But they were under control now.
With a nervous grin she handed the form back to Remington. It now read:
OWLS: Arithmancy-A , Herbology-A , Transfiguration-E , Defense against the Dark Arts- O , Charms-O , Potions-E , Ancient studies-O , Wandless magic-A , Cursebreaking-O
NEWTS: Charms-O , Herbology-A , Transfiguration-O , Defense against the Dark Arts-O , Arithmancy-E , Potions-A , Ancient studies-E , Wandless magic-E , Cursebreaking-O
Special Skills:Dueling, Can play viola. Disability/Incapability: Position applying for: Relic Hunter
Signed Lutheil Marcellus
All my life I've been over the top I don't know what I'm doing all I know is I don't wanna stop All fired up, I'm gonna go 'til I drop
Everywhere I look around I see how everyone aught to be
Every time I see myself I see there's always something wrong with me
𝑹𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒕𝒐𝒏 𝑱𝒂𝒈𝒈𝒆𝒓 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒕
𝑂 𝑐 𝑐 𝑙 𝑢 𝑚 𝑒 𝑛 𝑠
'Maybe this is a mistake?' His paranoia gnawed at the shreds of sanity in his shattered mind. But, he was young once, and willful. All these years had chastened him into a cautious man of riddles, maybe he needed fresh blood to compete in this underground world. 'Maybe, just maybe.' It had dawned on him, more than once now, to probe the secrets locked behind bone and steel. He could practically feel the presence of her conscience pulsating in his thoughts; a secret to be teased and flaunted. But, secrets are secrets, and he thought better then to invade. Once upon a time ago, he would have, but sometimes ignorance really is bliss. It just might save him a lot of trouble though... But it was a risk he was willing not to take. Maybe the distraction would even be welcome? He could dare to dream.
And he always did.
His head angled, the shadows darkened with intensity. A spark of recognition burst like fire and melted the iris to molten gold. His mind was erratic, frantic. The web it had spun had a single strand that thrummed, a single memory, with a single purpose—but it was lost—just too far out of reach. How ever curiouser that he could not recall the familiarity of her surname, maybe he would one day. He couldn't blame himself though, after all he'd been through. If the secrets and stories began to fade, it was only due time to start filtering their essence into a penseive. He'd do best to make accommodations within Gringotts. Until then, perhaps, her family would not mar his opinion of her. But he'd be throwing curses in a glass house if he claimed his history didn't haunt him; they did.
Better not dwell.
”Pleasure to finally be acquainted,” he remarked. Only this time, the slightest frown plagued the corner of his lips. ”Would it were true,” then the stagnant line reigned countenance once again. ”Maybe the peaches'll combat all the whiskey and cigars, but we'll see.” His nose bristled; memories of his brother flooded him. They weren't fond, they rarely ever were. She reminded him of the man, loathe as he would be to ever admit. Remington swerved away, almost running away from the problem if he could. Just behind his desk, he'd managed to slide into his seat just as Lutheil had switched quills. He saw the thin veil of red. Whether it was the blood, the quill, or the chance of mistake—it did make him smile once again.
Of course it hadn't lasted though, he had already redirected his vision toward the hand of rutilated quartz, it was encased in a glass round dome case. The oblique darkness corrupted its core, he could feel it. It flourished inside. But it should be dying. He was growing frustrated. Maybe it was better destroyed than harnessed? He crossed his fingers in a tent, elbows on the surface of his desk and hunched over. Not long after, he was presented with her formal application and lacked any formal expression.
He had to admit, she was young. Younger than he thought, but he was biased for the fact of magic beautification potions and enchantments. You could be anyone these days, it was hard to be sure. 'Dahlia won't be happy.' He realized. 'Or is it really Callidora now?' He bit his tongue. Either way, she'd be less than thrilled. 'Better she not know then,' he decided. ”Viola, hm? Could make for a good cover, blokes hardly ever question the struggling starlet, do they?” He mused, his tone amiable, somewhat anyway.
”Your timing is remarkable actually. I have a particular potion that I need...liberated. It'll be a few days, maybe weeks, before I can pinpoint the perfect opportunity however. I'll have more details soon....
“Do you have any questions for me?”
[OOC:]
╔══════════════╗ 44 years old ♛ 6’3” ♛ 172lbs Home ♛ Office ♛ Island ╚══════════════╝
All my life I've been over the top I don't know what I'm doing all I know is I don't wanna stop
There wasn't any official "Yay! You got the job!" statement, but clearly Lutheil had managed to land the job. It took an unusual amount of restraint to keep herself from dancing with a mix of joy and excitement right then and there, but she still managed to hold it in. She had a job! A real one that wouldn't require her to work side ones to keep herself fed!
However, her excitement was soon drowned out by a wave of curiosity. She only three-quarters of the way listened to Remington's mention of a potion he needed "liberated" as her eyes attempted to dissect the quartz hand encased in glass. It wasn't to hard to figure out why it was in the case, the distinct pressure of darkness seemed to be coming from it. And the pressure was growing too, now that she was focusing on detecting it. Lutheil nodded slightly to show that she had heard what he was saying, but her attention was nearly completely on the odd quartz hand now. Lutheil tilted her head slightly to the side as if doing so would somehow give her a better understanding of the hand. "What's the hand supposed to do?" Lutheil leaned forward, resting her forearms on the front of the desk, nearly pressing her nose on the glass dome. To her curiosity, she could actually make out a small, distinct lump of darkness in the hand, more like a globby thread really, or maybe a thin slow-moving flame.
"Is it supposed to have the darkness running through it like that? And have you tired sticking a silver ring on one of the fingers? Silver can alter the flow of magic if it's tempered right, although I have no idea if messing with it that way will necessarily bring about what you want for it." She tilted her head to the other side, her train of thought switched tracks, and it was hard to get it to shift back once it left the junction. Instead of waiting for the answer like any completely sane person would, she began to talk to herself more than anything. Clearly she had become caught up a bit in solving a perceived puzzle of sorts. Lutheil always did have a troublesome time trying to keep herself from solving any puzzle she came across, and all of her self-restraint had been spent on making sure she didn't look like a fool dancing with happiness.
" Hm... Could crack it, could completely corrupt it if it's not ductile enough, could set the whatever magic on into something resembling an alternating current if you stick on two rings, or maybe a bracelet.... " She was clearly no longer completely "there" her body was, but her mind was frantically tearing through it's internal archives trying to solve this, full steam ahead. "Tie a bit of silver wire 'round the wrist and attach it to something, might drain it for a bit. I dunno about permanently, but then you have another dark object to deal with." She frowned, reconsidering her previous thoughts "Maybe a hunk of charmed amber tied to the end... No, no that's just trouble waiting to happen." Her words soon became murmurings, some of the voiced ideas notably less conventional than others.
Suddenly after a period of intense thought, she snapped her fingers, sending off a small wisp of blue smoke, and said "Dialysis! Perfect!" Lutheil looked up at Remington expectantly with a small smile on her face, clearly pleased with herself.
All fired up, I'm gonna go 'til I drop You're either in or in the way, don't make me, I don't wanna stop.
ℂ𝕌ℝℝ𝔼ℕ𝕋𝕃𝕐 ╔═══════════════════════════════╗ Single... Sort of LookingScandalousat The Spiny Serpent with Remington and... some chit. xxxFEELINGxxx Annoyed xxxTHINKINGxxx ❝ ... What's he playing at now? ❞ ╚═══════════════════════════════╝
A ring around the roses;❇ ❇ ❇xxx Everybody poses❇ ❇ ❇xxxxxx Threats and then backs down❇ ❇ ❇xxxxxxxxx The second you put clothes on.❇ ❇ ❇xxxxxxxxxxxx ═════════════════════════════════════════════════╗
spaceCallidora sauntered into the shop like she owned it, partially because, hell, at this point she felt like she had the right to, and partially because she knew Remington would disagree with that notion and it would annoy him. She paused, though, expression growing surprised, and then supremely annoyed, when she realized that he wasn't alone. Not only was he not alone, if she wasn't mistaken, that was a young woman currently bent down over his desk. She clicked her tongue in annoyance, fire in her eyes. He... he...! The dark-haired woman cooled her expression, locking away the anger, because really, what purpose would it serve? She threw her shoulders back, nose in the air, crossing her arms in a way to emphasize her chest, a hip popping out. As she approached the desk, her hips swayed to and fro, the motion exaggerated for effect. He would watch, she knew; he always watched. And, perhaps, his straying eyes would be enough to scare off the chit currently leaned ever-so-intimately over the surface between them. As she drew closer, she arched a brow at the woman, then gave Remington a cool glance."Well, Remington. This is new. I wasn't aware you liked them so young,"she said, tone icy. She laid a hand on the desk, a little too close to the young woman, and tapped her nails. She offered the girl a toothy grin, like that of a wolf to his prey. That the woman would have any reason for being here aside from the obvious completely went over her head. After all, Remington might be discreet, but he was still not known for spending the nights alone. She didn't think for a moment that she was the only woman he had between his sheets. He was a whore, and a liar, after all. So long as it wasn't in her face, she wasn't inclined to care, mostly because it wasn't as though she was remaining faithful to him (and, in fact, she wasn't for that very reason). Still, there was a pecking order, and she was at the top. She didn't think he usually had his girls around here. She'd certainly never run into one of them before, and she was here fairly often. Because this was where she came to see him, after all, so none of the others should ever come into his shop. She didn't know why that was the rule, but it simply was, at least in her mind. Unwilling to acknowledge the girl's presence anymore than she had to, she looked back to Remington."Am I interrupting something?"she asked, eyes rapt on his face. She'd come in here because she'd had nothing better to do, and really, whenever she found herself in that position, she always seemed to wind her way down Knockturn to see him. She hadn't even realized that it was happening more and more, that she was seeking less alternative partners and instead coming straight to him. But, really, why should she look for another man? None of them were ever as good as him. The only reason she bothered with anyone else was to keep him in his place, because she had no doubts that he knew. After all, he knew everything else.
╚═════════════════════════════════════════════════ xxx❇ ❇ ❇A ring around the roses; xxxxxx❇ ❇ ❇Everybody knows it. xxxxxxxxx❇ ❇ ❇I will sing your fears xxxxxxxxxxxx❇ ❇ ❇If you sing my neurosis.
