rxxlestrange

[rxxlestrange]

#rabastan;inspiration

[rxxlestrange]

He'd curled his fingers with Marlene's, willing to follow her lead and leave the balcony. There was no point in staying; the crazed woman was not listening to sense and he was not so bored and battle-longing that he would curse a geriatric. So as they landed, appearing suddenly in twisting dust and scattering the inebriated citizens, he continued to laugh. Somewhere above them, the old lady was still ranting. Her words echoed down into the narrow street, rebounding here and there along with flashes of whatever hexes she was firing into nowhere.

As Marlene spoke, Rabastan turned to meet her eyes. He was pleased to find her smiling, his own gaze still bristling with exhilarated mirth. "There isn't much worth feeling alive for these days, is there?" he commented. Despite his high spirits, the words carried weight. His world was one of darkness and disappointment. He regretted nothing. His commitment to his goals had not faltered. But the course of the war had left him feeling stifled, and the road ahead would be longer and more difficult.

"Come then," he said, pointing towards what looked like a bar up ahead. "Let's try there." As they started to walk, his smile became sly. "And you can tell me all about what else makes you feel alive. Perhaps we could trade tales, though I doubt you'd like some of mine."

The laugh coming from Rabastain was like music to Marlene's ears. It was genuine, it was real. Somthing you didn't hear a lot these days as everyone felt like pretending because there weren't quite a lot of sources that were giving you joy at the moment. And she knew all about that. One of the reasons why she enjoying hanging out with him; maybe it wasn't for the right reason, but he did make her smile and enjoy herself.

A feeling of relief flooded over Marlene when she noticed the wand coming into view. Maybe a strange feeling as that piece of wood could do a lot of damage. "No. I'm not scared. Just wondering how we could solve this situation." It was easy now. They did not have to make the woman forget. They could just run. And that was something she would be able to do.

As Rabastan stepped in front of her, Marlene looked down at the street and took that into her focus. She took his free hand, tangling her fingers once more with his but this time around she was the one to disapparate with the other, and not him. They disappeared before the woman could do something and only a few moments later, they appeared again, this time in the busy street with drunk witches and wizards.

The young woman let go of Rabastan once more and it was only then that a bright smile appeared on her lips. "You know, those things make me feel alive." You make me feel alive. In a bad way. Her dark eyes followed the surroundings. "I don't need crowds and music. I just need a drink."

#thread;marlene

[rxxlestrange]

I see your storm rolling in, I see the ground crumbling, I see the dark crawling in, I see your wars, it's the end, It's a dangerous game.

#rabastan;soundtrack

[rxxlestrange]

Starter for: Andromeda Black @xdanismusesx Where: The Slytherin Common Room, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry When: c.1969/1970 (5th year)

The evening was darkening, firelight scattering shadows through the Slytherin dungeon. It was far from peaceful. The students were typically rowdy, spending most of their nights practising badly performed dark magic and bemoaning petty house rivalries. As much as Rabastan enjoyed insulting the latest offending Gryffindor, he preferred to avoid this nonsense on the whole. It was not a good use of his time. He had other things on his mind. If his housemates had any sense, they would also put their efforts into causes that were more worthwhile. But such was life - they did not have sense.

Currently he sat alone, surrounded by scrolls and a stack of books that would make any Ravenclaw envious. This year he would be taking his OWLs. He was hell-bent on doing well, and in addition to the ordinary curriculum, his father had taken to sending him books from home, complete with strict instructions on what to learn from them. The Dark Lord was ascending and Rabastan's path was marked with clear and welcome certainty. He would do everything possible to succeed. He would rise through the ranks and make the world worthy of the Lestrange name.

As a particularly loud crash echoed somewhere in the depths of the room, he set down his quill and looked up. Mild annoyance marred his expression only momentarily, for his eyes fell on Andromeda as they moved to seek the source of the clamour. He granted her a faint smile then turned back to his books, no longer thinking about what he needed to write, but instead more innocently considering that she was very pretty.

#thread;andromeda

[rxxlestrange]

Scanning the street below, Rabastan had been looking for a good bar or a club; somewhere to go next. Just as he settled on a promising building, Marlene spoke and he turned to see what she was talking about. For a moment, he simply stared. The sight of an old woman in her bathrobe, brandishing a walking stick at her window, was not what he had expected. Then he laughed more freely than he'd done in months, because it was truly absurd. The end of the war had made him bitter and miserable. But there was no denying how ridiculous this night had become.

His fingers still gripping the cool metal rail, he turned to Marlene with an unusually open smile. "You're not scared, are you?" he asked, curious. He would have considered that idea for longer, were it not for the fact that the old lady had started to fumble with her door onto the balcony and was now - slowly - approaching while ranting in French about 'young people' and 'no respect'. The walking stick, it seemed, housed a wand, which was quickly directed in wobbly fashion at the pair of them.

Through instinct alone, Rabastan gripped his own weapon and stepped in front of Marlene. Deciding to attempt a remedy, he began, "Veuillez m’excuser, madame-". But he never finished. The old woman was too intent on throwing hexes.  

Only when Rabastan replied and let her know that it was a hotel the last time he had been there, Marlene moved her attention to him. And it was only then that she caught his studious look focused on her. It made her feel a little nervous, being the target of someone who was clearly focused on something in mind. Before she could say something, he looked down at the street below. Marlene hadn't even noticed that she had been holding her breath until that moment.

The woman looked at the street for a moment, before some movement besides her and so behind Rabastan caught her attention. "You said it was a hotel the last time right. I don't think said hotel had kitchens in their suites and also old angry French ladies who want to know how suddenly strangers appeared on her balcony?" she asked the other, her voice suddenly a bit small at the question. The one thing moving through her head was... Muggle or witch? What was the case with this woman? Disapparate or obliviate and then disapparate?

#thread;marlene

[rxxlestrange]

That response earned a perplexed stare from Rabastan, who looked at Q as though he were an oddity. "Then use your wand." Having uttered the bluntly obvious statement, he then followed the other man's advice and moved to study the alternative books. "I'm looking for something on blood curses," he told him, thinking of Dahlia's plight. "The inherited kind."

Q picked up his glasses from the ground, before sighing. "Not a squib, just not great at wandless magic." He knew the book the other was looking at though. "If you are interested in that, you want to move three shelves down and up two to find the way to break the curses but also how to avoid them yourself."

#thread;q

[rxxlestrange]

Arching an eyebrow behind his newspaper, Rabastan slowly lowered it and levelled his heavy gaze at the little girl. He was hardly going to scold a child, but he would admit it was rather tempting. "Are you always so charming?" he asked, the sarcasm lost on her, and the irony lost on himself.

Scrutinising her a moment longer, his eyes moved instead to Lorcan. The man looked familiar. Rabastan could not decide why. "Do we know each other?"

Lorcan watched it happened but it seemed like Roisin had other plans. She stopped to look at the man that had clearly in her eyes been in her way. She crossed her arms and glanced at Lorcan before looking back at Rabastan. "If you're going to be in the way and boring maybe go to a different park" she huffed. Lorcan bit his lip watching before coming up. He saw the news paper and shrugged.

#thread;lorcan

[rxxlestrange]

Rabastan had not noticed the woman's approach, being too absorbed in his drink and the illicit delight that Pen was about to divulge. Penny was hardly a forceful presence, either. She appeared quietly, radiating a vibrancy that was at odds with Rabastan's natural energy - and, it seemed to him, also at odds with Pen's.

Silently, he observed the interaction between mother and son, sitting with polite attention while his eyes consumed the scene. He considered it peculiar. His mother had long abandoned such attempts at intimacy. But far be it for him to judge the affairs of another Death Eater, and he did not care enough about it in the first place. Even the woman's muggleborn status did not wholly matter - not unless she would stand against them. Rabastan knew that all types of blood would remain in the new world order. It was merely the structure of society that he wanted to change. Though his loathing of the lesser-bloodied nonetheless ran deep and resolute, he could keep it under control when appropriate.

"Now, what were you about to say?" he asked, as Pen summoned the bartender, fully intending to resume where the conversation had paused.

END.

"He wasn't," they agreed firmly. There was the tiniest bit of tension in their jaw at the thought, in fact. It was something that had occurred to them many times before, a reality which had infuriated them in ways they had been unable to do anything about. Voldemort had told them not to murder their father without dire cause, he had valued him more highly than Pen in that regard, it seemed. Their Lord had been free to ask anything of them, they would have done anything for him, but it still left a sour taste in their mouth to know that he would deprive them of seeking out such justice. "Some things simply aren't fair." They had forgotten their drink for a moment in their thoughts and the conversation, but remembering it now Pen downed the rest in one steady gulp, setting the glass down on the table. They saw the mischief in his eyes and they were tempted to go into more detail. Their fear of returning to azkaban was real and had kept them good and wary since their release, but they couldn't be punished for wanting to murder a man who was already dead. Even as guilty as they were of countless other murders. Their shoulders leaned slightly towards them and they began to speak, "I-" before they were interrupted by a familiar, loving hand on their shoulder. Penny had come over for a moment to check on them. She was a very small woman, with short hair dark brown as Pen's own. She greeted them with a sunny smile and a cheerful, "hello loves, hope i'm not interrupting! Penny, cariad. Hoffai'r merched fynd i ddawnsio. Ydych chi eisiau dod gyda ni?" Pen's stormy greys lifted to her face and a soft smile took their features at the sight of their mother. A graceful hand slipped to give a little squeeze to the hand on their shoulder and they answered her softly, "na, mam. Ewch i gael hwyl. Nid yw wedi bod yn ddiflas siarad â Rabastan." Their mum gave a little giggle and her hand found Pen's hair, messing their usually neatly combed locks. "Then i'll see you at home, later." Pen let out a soft huff through their nose but made no fuss. They leaned in closer a moment later to accept a kiss on the cheek, murmuring, "yes, mum. Be safe." She slipped away and with the fading of her yellow went the smile on Pen's face, until they were left blank as usual. Now with messy hair. Sighing softly, they motioned to the bartender to replace their drink.

#thread;pen

[rxxlestrange]

Rabastan had kept his eyes on her as she studied the landscape. His gaze etched her features, heavy and studious. It was an intensity that would not be easily ceased, for he was a man who did precisely what he wanted when he desired - at least, when he could get away with it. It was a pity that he had to tame his wishes, these days. It was infuriating.

As her smile emerged unhindered, his lips also curved in dark contentment. He congratulated himself on having solved their little dilemma; it was certainly a better environment and he was pleased to have removed the disappointment from her countenance. It had not been a suitable reaction. She should not have wanted to be near muggles. If she wanted to escape, there were better ways to do it.

"It was a hotel the last time I was here," he replied, with a nonchalance that conveyed that he would not care if it was - in fact - no longer a hotel. Placing both hands on the rail, he looked down onto the street below and watched as a few intoxicated witches struggled over the cobbles. "Shall we find somewhere to drink? Or do you still desire music and crowds?"

Apparating will never be something Marlene would get used to. She definitely preferred a broom over it but it would take so much longer. The woman closed her eyes automatically as always. Luckily enough it didn't take long before she was able to breath in fresh air once more. So the first thing she did was take a deep breath of the cool Parisian air before opening up her eyes and trying to decide where they were.

Marlene's attention moved to Rabastan when he let go of her hand and then took a look over the many lights that was Paris. The Eifel Tower was completely lit in the background as well and a smile formed on the woman's face.

"No French for me besides 'oui' and 'non' and maybe some more single simple words," Marlene admitted to the man standing next to her. Her gaze was still set on the many lights in front of them. "Whose balcony are we standing on right now?"

#thread;marlene

[rxxlestrange]

c. 1975 (age 21)

#rabastan;image

[rxxlestrange]

"Certainly." Stepping aside without any care, he continued to browse the books that had caught his interest in the first place; a leather-bound set on curses of the human anatomy. It was likely more suited to Healers, but he flicked through it nonetheless. "You can fix them, you know," he added nonchalantly. "Unless you're a squib?"

Q sighed through his nose as he ran his hands over his face. Right well now they were broken. Again. "Mind not stepping on them more?" Sure the world was a bit fuzzy but he could tell his glasses were still under a shoe.

#thread;q

[rxxlestrange]

Noting the flash of excitement in Marlene's eyes, Rabastan's mood continued to improve. Her animation was contagious. The effect was partly innocuous; he responded well to innocence. He valued it. But another part of him wanted to see what further emotions he could manipulate in her. He had no particular goal in spending time with Marlene, aside from the satisfaction of separating her from the rest of the McKinnons. It was a selfish whim. He was enjoying it.

Wasting no time when she extended her hand, he wrapped his fingers around hers and stole her away. His grip was decisive, their disapparition swift. The muggle street was left far behind, with nothing but an unnaturally swirling breeze to indicate they'd been there at all. Once landed, he took a moment to observe their surroundings before leading her towards a balcony and releasing his hold.

"Well," he said, satisfied and gesturing to the cityscape below. "That's Paris. Do you speak any French?" It had been some time since he'd visited the city. But he'd brought them to a good spot in their wizarding world - and she could have all the champagne she desired.

Better than these Muggles. Marlene knew that she was a Pureblood. She was the same as him in that matter. But her best friend... The woman she had known for so many years now... Lily was a Muggleborn. And she was one of the brightest she knew. Marlene did not consider herself better than her. Or her family. Okay, maybe a bit because the stories she had heard of Lily's sister weren't the best.

Interacting with Rabastan was fun because it was her own little secret. It was fun because she was able to get away from the Order and from reality. It was fun because he knew how to have fun in a different way than she saw it.

Marlene pulled the cloak around her body better after he draped it over her shoulders. Her eyes lit up at the mention of Paris. His expression seemed to have bettered as well. "How about Paris, I have never been there before." And there was definitely not a chance of bumping into people she knew. She reached out so she could take his hand. "Bring me to Paris."

#thread;marlene

[rxxlestrange]

Estelle's words rang true. But despite their negativity, the shade in Rabastan's expression yielded to more forceful optimism. "It will not always be that way," he stated. His belief was unadulterated. Determination may as well have been carved into his bones, such was the severity of his dedication to a better future. For as long as there was breath in his lungs, he would not stop striving for perfection - for the recognition of purity.

The scene outside of Gringotts reflected no such ideal. But Rabastan did not consider it. Instead, he chose to watch Estelle as her eyes hovered inscrutably over the bustling crowd. Since she had turned away, he took the opportunity to absorb her features for yet another time, the steel of his stare only ceasing once she turned back towards him. His lips curved at the taunt in her voice. He had already assumed her intelligence, but the cutting slice of her words proved it. When she dared to touch him, he did not move. He recognised a challenge when he saw one, even if it was clad in beauty and charm. He had no doubt, in that moment, that Estelle was a force in her own right.

"You are going to start a rumour," he dryly chided, raising his hand to wrap hers and remove it from his chin. Her palm was small within his, her skin soft and cool. For a moment, he was filled with the bizarre inclination not to let go, but common sense overruled and he slid his fingers from hers with a dark laugh. "Or perhaps that's what you want, inviting me to imagine why I would desire your company, so freely here in public." He matched her smirk, though only for a moment as subdued mirth ghosted his expression before dissipating. "Since you seem to have heard tales about me, whereas I've heard nothing about you beyond Evan's incidental anecdotes, I would want to rectify that imbalance. That is what I would desire. For now."

Estelle couldn't help the laugh, humorless as it was. "Of course not. Any chance they'll have at limiting the things they fear to lose control over, they will take. It has been that way and it will always be that way. They cannot risk having their lack of control be as apparent as the last time, now, can they?" The witch couldn't help the little smirk that snuck its way into the corner of her mouth. Somehow these things of the past always amused her. There may have been a loss for their side but at the end of the day to her this only meant another attempt was well worth the wait. The time would come.

Her heels echoed on the marble floor, only dampened by the loud setting of the street outside. Diagon Alley was seemingly filled to the brim, echoes of shouting and cheering as well as the busy life of a shopping alley. "Hm, excellent question." The blonde didn't bother turning around as instead she scanned the street in front of her, noticing quite a few people that did not seem to fit in. Pity.

"I'm sure you can think of something. You've always seemed rather creative in the tales I heard of you. Why ever would you want to come visit me?" For a moment she turned to observe the man in question. It was almost playful when her finger lifted, raising his chin just a tad. "You're a clever man, Rabastan. Why would you want to visit me? I could think of quite a few reasons." She had the smirk back. "If need be you're more than welcome to claim something as tame as ministry business. If that's what you'd prefer." - @rxxlestrange

#thread;estelle #//there passes the first effect of the veela charm >:)

[rxxlestrange]

Rabastan had met his brother at the Ministry earlier in the day. The picketers littering the doorway had infuriated him to no end, and his mood was fouled to such an extent that even Rodolphus tired of his company. Was it not enough that the war had ceased? Mudbloods and traitors would stop at nothing until their kind hunted his into non-existence. He would not submit. The sooner they resumed the fight, the better.

He'd moved to the Leaky Cauldron, intending on a quick drink to quench his irritation. But lo and behold, who should sit opposite but one of the demonstrators. It took no small amount of restraint to remain where he sat, tight-lipped and dark eyed. Since he could not curse them in public, he made do with cold contempt instead. "Busy day?"

After a long day picketing in the ministry's entryway, Char found theirself tired but not ready yet to go home. Their body was still buzzing with energy from all their effort, and yet... Looking down at their scroll of signatures, they were barely halfway to their goal. The ministry was making it so hard for them it was getting to be discouraging. He found his way to the leaky cauldron for a drink and some wind down, in hopes that it might make him feel a little less restless. He picked a seat near the fireplace and got comfortable, knowing Tom would have their usual sent over quicker than he could get up and order it anyway.

@rxxlestrange

#thread;char

[rxxlestrange]

Sir. That word held potent connotations, the suggestion of dominance and a masculine superiority that set Rabastan's ego aflame. But despite whatever happened behind closed doors, he saw Dahlia as nothing but an equal. They were alike. She was no wallflower, no woman to be kept at home. She was a skilled and noble witch. Perhaps if things had been different, their relationship might have taken an alternative path. If it weren't for the curse that polluted her blood, he might have sought to claim her for himself. But without that curse, she would not have become who she was today, and perhaps he would not have liked her quite so much. Without the curse, she would not be Dahlia.

As she gripped his waist, he was already reaching for the elderflower wine. It was an anomaly among his own spirits, pushed to the back for whenever she was here; her own drink, which had not been opened for far too long. He didn't flinch at her touch. The bite, following the velvet trail of her words, made him sharply inhale before he laughed and tilted his neck towards her lips. She was welcome to take what she wanted, as long as she gifted him the same privilege in return.

"You are making it difficult to wait," he accused, pouring her drink before helping himself to a small glass of scotch. Then he turned, handing her the wine and pressing his now-free hand to the small of her back. The movement drew her closer. Eyes sharply fixed on her, he sipped his drink then wryly added, "And I do not require potions for anything, least of all for stamina. How dare you suggest such a thing."

Looking forward to being with Rabastan, Daisy hurriedly prepared closing the store. However, she didn't want him seeing her shuffling quickly and made herself appear as though she was taking her time. She was good at making it look like she was doing one thing and really doing another. She didn't want to come across as too eager -- even if she was. After all, she adored Rabastan's company. ...perhaps a little too much if she was honest with herself but that was neither here nor there.

Dahlia looked over and saw Rabastan glancing at potions. "Finding anything you like?" she teased. "Could get you a potion to help you make it through the night. Give you any stamina you may need to last," she raised her brow as she raised one side of her mouth. Merlin knew the sex with Rabastan was of the highest caliber. Dahlia could never wait to get him into bed.

Finally he grabbed her and they were gone. The thrill of apparating was part of the experience. His hands on her were electrifying as it was. When they finally arrived and he let go of her she was a bit disappointed but then he reached for her chin. A chill ran down her spine. Dahlia breathed deep. "There are many things we could do, sir," she said, shaking her head side to side.

As he turned to get drinks, Dahlia walked up behind him and put her hands on his waist, clutching her nails into his sides. She stood on her toes and whispered to him, "Elderflower wine." Then bit his ear.

#thread;dahlia

[rxxlestrange]

"It is not foolish," Rabastan replied with utter conviction. He knew she'd spoken lightly, but the comment had merited a response. He was anything but foolish. Regardless of his unfailing belief in that fact, he would not let it pass without contradiction and neither would he permit their art to be criticised as such. This work was not for the reckless or the faint-hearted. It was for the skilled, the thrill-seekers. It was for those who could lay hands on pure evil and tame it with both brute force and gentle persuasion. His tone had remained as heedlessly polite as hers, and with a glance that betrayed his excited anticipation, he lowered the handle and opened the door.

The air inside was heavy, despite the clarity of the early-morning outside. It bore the oppressive weight that one might find within a undisturbed tomb, as though thick with dust and death; and Rabastan had seen his fair share of tombs, in his quests for Gringotts' gold. In the centre was indeed a large box as described by the wizard. But rather than six-sided as Rabastan had assumed, this construct was oddly formed. It had many sides with differing angles, to such an extent that Rabastan was surprised it could balance on the table at all.

"That's not what I expected," he admitted, as he moved to circle the table. Keen eyes remained on the box, absorbing as many details as he could note on first observation; a few markings that were possibly some form of runes, some dents and notches elsewhere which perhaps hinted that manual manipulation would be required once enough spells had been removed. He tried to envisage what its creator had intended, what protections might be in place and the order in which to address them. He did not intend to touch it until he had formed a plan. "What do you think?" Turning to Emmeline, he awaited her judgement. "I would like to see if it can be levitated. The side that is hidden by the table might be important."

The aura behind the door was filled with the magic of the curses placed within the room. Emmeline almost struggled to pull her hand back from the delicate looking yet overly sturdy wood underneath her fingertips. If blood could be replaced with the adrenaline nor cursing through her veins, surely none of the crimson liquid would have been left as she turned toward Rabastan and equally stepped away from the door to allow for other to open it. "After you." The young witch's voice was barely above a whisper, the smirk so evident within her tone at the same time. "Let's see what magic hides behind door number one, hm?"

Emmeline allowed her eyes to roam, to scan the world around her as she waited. Every detail seemed to matter as she first glanced at him, then the door. "I don't doubt that whatever awaits us in there is strong. No curse that strong is going to let the one intruding walk without the harm that comes with the territory. We both know that. I just want to know the answer, want to crack the riddle," She paused, chuckling slightly, "and admire the work. Is that foolish of me? Then again, perhaps this line of work is foolish." And once again it was the tone of her voice that gave away the lack of worries within. In fact, Emmeline couldn't wait to see the inside of the chamber in front of them. Whatever cursed object lay within, it was powerful enough to penetrate the walls. The creaking of the door sent a shiver down her spine. The answer was so close yet so far. - @rxxlestrange

#thread;emmeline

[rxxlestrange]

He looked at her implacably, with a stony expression that did not shift beyond his barely stifled resentment. These last months had been unbearable. Rabastan did not enjoy feeling constrained. He mourned the Dark Lord's absence, and he loathed the sense of injustice and aimlessness that came with the end of the war.

So while he'd been riled by Bellatrix's question, her allusion left him happier than he had dared to be for many weeks. It was correct that they should continue. It was natural and honourable. The Dark Lord had upheld his oath with an iron fist clad in cursed chains; he would not have wanted them to break it, not even in death, and Rabastan was not willing to accept his death as fact.

"The Dark Lord's word is law, even without him here." He smiled then, malcontent blending to rare and genuine satisfaction. "You can always rely on me, Bella."

END.

The moment that Rabastan turned around, Bellatrix already knew enough; Rodolphus and her had been right to not doubt Rabastan at all. He would be all in.

His words only confirmed it more to her and it made a smile form upon Bellatrix' lips. "That is good to hear. And exactly what we expected," she let him know. Also to let him know that the both of they had never doubted him in that regards.

"I can't tell you everything just yet, the time for that will come. But we are happy to know. And we might rely on the most when the time comes."

#thread;bellatrix #//I know you're dropping Bella but I wanted to reply/close anyway <3