Topic: over the hill, now: a downward race (Read 103 times)
Rodolphus Lestrange a d u l t u n e m p l o y e d[M:0:0:0:] member is offline
& the d a r k n e s s breeds [[ l o n e l i n e s s }}
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over the hill, now: a downward race « Thread Started on Oct 4, 2009, 9:58pm »
there ain't no room for me in the city the lights go down but it look so pretty
It would be a slight exaggeration, of course, but one could go so far as to say that Rodolphus hated parties more than he hated Muggles. The morning had started out cheery enough, with the birds singing and the sun shining and Rodolphus had retreated into the bowels of the house, making sure that he couldn't see what was in front of him, let alone the flight of stairs he had to make his way down. He had raged at the servants for an hour or two, but it hadn't done much to improve his mood. He now sat in the basement, stroking his red handkerchief and wishing his dress shirt was too wrinkled to wear. Rodolphus couldn't remember who'd sent out the invitations, since the servants had sworn they hadn't done it, and when Rodo questioned them he was always as vicious as he could get away with. Today was not a day he wanted to be celebrating. Especially not without Bellatrix around. He hadn't seen her all day, and he couldn't remember whether she'd even been in the house the night before. Most likely not. Maybe she'd done this. Maybe she'd set up this damn get together to spite him. For what he couldn't honestly say, but somewhere along the way he must have done something to receive such torture. Of course, the transition period from the Dark Lord to the Grendel had been difficult for them, but she was supposed to be strong, that was why he'd married her, and this--this pitiful failure on her part was enough to make him storm out of the house on numerous occasions. But this party he certainly didn't deserve.
Fifty. Rodolphus wanted to curl up in the cellar with the rats and let them nibble at his toes. It would have been preferable to admitting his defeat. At this point he had reached the realm of old age. The Grendel members, who had someone been invited, would think him weak, and look at him patronizingly. They would scoff at him when he couldn't remember what he'd been saying or what he'd been doing, and when he finally did remember, the whispering would start. They would smile politely and then, when they thought his back was turned, the smirks would pop onto their faces and they would say, 'see, I told you he wasn't morally sound. To think that man was Voldemort's right hand man once.' Even in his feeble state, the ability to lead had not left Rodolphus. Though his plans may be full of holes and it took him a while to process, when he was in a tight spot he never failed. He could get out of a dangerous mission in under five minutes. He could have lead the Dark Lord to victory if scum like the Dog and the Rat hadn't been in the forces. Not that the Grendel was much better. There were a few who showed promise in the group, but he wasn't happy with the leadership. Sawyer he understood, and Tanner he was sure just needed a little work, but why had such inexperienced people been put in charge. Rodolphus had been in Voldemort's inner circle. He understood how to take charge of a situation and his oratorical skills were bleak and to the point. If he were in charge, the Grendel would have had dozens of members, if not by choice, then out of fear. Rodolphus had sway, he made an impression and that was something the current leaders couldn't do.
The afternoon bled slowly into evening and Rodolphus was forced to leave the safety and solitude of the basement and crawl back into the festively decorated house. To think that the servants would be so mislead as to think that he had gone and ordered all of this. That was what they had told him, but Rodolphus was pretty sure they were just playing with him again. As always. Now that they knew he didn't always know what was going on they were always playing with him, telling him he'd said things he hadn't. Although there was a faint memory of some invitations being handed to someone at some point or another. No, the notion was completely ridiculous. He would never have had the servants hang up the black curtains and drape black streamers around the banister of the stairs. He wouldn't have made them order black balloons or hang up the 'OVER THE HILL' sign on the front door. No even his frazzled mind was too rational for that. Rodolphus stroked his red handkerchief a last time and then tucked it safely into his pants pocket. Soon the guests would be arriving and there was nothing he could do about that. He couldn't likely call it off now, could he?
Rodolphus settled himself in front of one of the windows, peering anxiously out to see whether he had invited anyone he would regret. However, no one was appearing at the gates, or at the door, and for a moment Rodolphus wondered if it had all been an elaborate prank. Somehow, the thought didn't stick for long though. The servants had been sending him terrified looks all day, which meant that they wanted to make sure everything was perfect so as to avoid the consequences. There would be a party whether it started early or late. Would he be expected to make a speech? Rodolphus smoothed down his shirt and peered out the window again. Even if he wrote something down he wouldn't remember where he'd put it. He would be the laughing stock of this party, of the Grendel. They would mock him for eternity for this and it wasn't something he was ready to accept. The ex-Death Eater stormed through the house, howling for a servant all the way and when he got to the dining room, a paper, ink pot and quill was offered to him by a sheepish maid who disappeared, while the ink pot still rattled on the tabletop. Rodolphus would have had words with her, but he was busy writing down the most coherent speech he could manage. When he was finished he tucked it into his handkerchief, hoping the red would jog his memory when the time came. Like it or not, this party would take place, and he had to make it through. For dignity's sake.
Alyssa Avery a d u l t j o u r n a l i s t[M:0:5:5:] member is offline
Joined: Jun 2009 Gender: Female Posts: 15 Karma: 9
Re: over the hill, now: a downward race « Reply #1 on Oct 5, 2009, 3:42pm »
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Alyssa liked parties. They were full of people, noise and dancing, with copious amounts of free drinks and an almost palpable air of excitement that put even more of a bounce in her step than usual. You could spend a whole night not worrying about anything, and if you were lucky you might even meet someone who was nice and charming and who made you feel pretty even if you were wearing the only posh dress you owned to the tenth party in a row. It was why, when an owl had appeared at her window one evening, dropping an invitation into her hand, it had taken Alyssa only moments to decide to check the ‘yes’ box on the RSVP and send it straight back. Alright, so she wasn’t entirely sure who Rodolphus Lestrange was, although the Lestranges were well known pureblood families, much as hers was – which implied that Mr Lestrange knew her brother and she’d only been invited out of courtesy or because he didn’t know that she wasn’t exactly on good terms with Freddie – but if nothing else, it was a night away from her little flat and the proof-reading she’d been lumbered with. It sounded like it was going to be a huge affair, anyway, so it wasn’t as though she’d be stuck in a room with nothing but ex-Death Eaters the whole night, surely. And if so, well, she could hold her own. It was a party; her life had been so dull of late that she wouldn’t have turned it down if she’d had to be escorted there by her brother. (If Frederick had been invited, Lyssa knew he would attend because of the appearance he had to keep up, but she could easily avoid him in a crowd of people simply by doing something vaguely embarrassing like dancing wildly – not a problem with a few drinks inside her – because then he wouldn’t want to admit they were related. It was perfectly simple, in her view.)
If she was honest, though, one of the main reasons Alyssa liked parties was because she liked to have the occasion to spend a long time dressing herself up; as a little girl, she’d been forced to attend all sorts of children’s birthday parties in hideous frilly dresses, presenting some spotty brat with a present even though just last week he’d pulled her hair and called her a rude name. Since then, though, there had been no call for it; there hadn’t really been many parties at school, and once she’d hit university they were more about getting wasted and laid than anything else. In fact, Alyssa had thought that she was never going to have the opportunity to wear the poor woman’s version of an expensive ball gown, since an actual gown on her salary wouldn’t happen even if she worked overtime for the next million years, but she’d splurged on a dress one year, just in case. And yes, she was looking forward to spending a lot of time talking and being around other people in honour of this Lestrange guy (was he the one who was married to Bellatrix Lestrange, before she died? If so, Lyssa would try to avoid him despite him being the host; Bellatrix Lestrange had had a reputation, even for someone who’d lived in the muggle world for half her life), but she wanted to wear her dress too. It looked good on her, even if she said so herself.
Despite this, Alyssa couldn’t help but feel a little flutter of nerves as she approached the rather imposing Lestrange house. Okay, so the house itself didn’t scare her, having grown up in a just as imposing manor, even if she’d not set foot there for over ten years now, but more the feeling that she was stepping into the domain of people like her brother – the sort of people she’d worked very hard to avoid since discovering how different she was from them. Alright, so she knew that Freddie wouldn’t have told any of his friends acquaintances what she was, but she still got a feeling when surrounded by purebloods that they could sense it, somehow. She didn’t act like the rest of them, something which Frederick was constantly complaining about when he barged in on her life as if he owned it (he did, really, because he could bring it crashing down around her ears with no more effort than knocking over a feather). But Lyssa wasn’t going to change how she acted; she wasn’t going to act like a rich, pompous bigot just for the sake of appearances. She had enough of an act to keep up as it was, what with pretending she could do magic and actually fit in with this circle of people.
Still, Lyssa smiled as she pulled the bell at the front door, stepping back a little to look up at the banner adorning the porch. She might not fit in, but she was good at getting along with people, and it was a party. She liked parties a lot, and there were only so many ways this could go badly. Once they were out the way, she might even have a good time.
« Last Edit: Oct 5, 2009, 4:50pm by Alyssa Avery »
Re: over the hill, now: a downward race « Reply #2 on Oct 6, 2009, 11:14am »
...
Dianne checked her reflection in the mirror for what she told herself was the last time. you look fine she assured herself, flashing a smile that was somehow meant to reassure, yet she quickly stopped when evidence of her being a vampire came into view. She was quite sure the party she was attending would be rather more forgiving of her disorder, but it was better to remain inconspicuous anyhow – there was no need to draw attention to yourself just yet. Dianne grimaced, knowing being subtle wasn’t exactly her forte; if there were drinks at this party Dianne would be out of it, even if it was only ever a few glasses. Recently Dianne had taken to cutting down the amount she drank when out on a job for the Grendel (they hadn’t been too happy when their lookout had found her, slumped across the couch of a meant-to-be victim and only semi-conscious and semi-clothed), though even that was pushing her luck. Tales in books gave the impression that vampires had no limit on their alcohol consumption – this was not the case. Just one drink was often enough to get Dianne light-headed.
With a final nod toward her image and standing tall, Dianne left the house (if you could call Lucy’s place a house – it was huge. And cold) and hurried quickly toward the apparition point. Having been hunted and attacked for years, Lucy had given into her paranoia and fears by putting what appeared to be every bloody shield charm she knew over the residence. As she reached the point Dianne held out her hand gingerly, saying the password that Lucy had insisted on putting up. Immediately she could feel the magic give way – was this a pro of being a vampire, perhaps? Dianne had never taken too much attention of her limits before the transformation, so had no way of comparing. Dianne shook her head clear of those type of thoughts, knowing that dwelling on them would only send her into a spiral of self-pity and loathing – she was going to a party. She was meant to be in the mood for fun.
Rodolphus Lestrange. There was no doubt in Dianne’s mind who this man was. Once upon a time he had been the enemy – Dianne, a young auror sent from France and ready to protect her country and family, and he a Death Eater; both were ready to kill the other. How strange, that events could turn so dramatically that Dianne was now being sent an invitation to his birthday party. It was most likely due to either her connections with the Grendel or Lucy Whitbury – other than that, there had been few instances when Dianne had actually met the man. Those times they had come in contact and been with him in a mask and her shrouded in shadows – the Dark Lord hadn’t been a big fan of open spaces and lights, apparently. Dianne had always thought it resembled Phantom on the Opera too much to be a mere coincidence.
With a sharp turn on her heel Dianne emerged outside a rather striking home, or perhaps manor would be more suitable a name for the building she had just arrived at. Lucy’s place was big (heck, she lived in a castle) but this place…it just screamed importance at her. Clutching the package containing Rodolphus’ present, Dianne hurried along the long pathway toward the front door, breathing a sigh of relief when she saw another woman there. At least she wasn’t the first one to arrive. Dianne slowed down slightly, cocking an eyebrow at the banner plastered across the front of the house and was unable to resist a smile. ‘OVER THE HILL’ “He should be thankful he’s not buried under it” she muttered, before sending a polite smile to the woman stood there as she came to a stop. Maybe this wouldn’t be quite so bad.
Fenrir Greyback a d u l t s a l e s c l e r k[M:0:8:16:] member is offline
I've been lying to myself all this time.
Joined: Jun 2008 Posts: 50 Karma: 28
Re: over the hill, now: a downward race « Reply #3 on Oct 11, 2009, 12:26pm »
Never in his life had he liked a job anywhere near as much as he liked working at Gladrags. Actually, Fenrir had never really worked anywhere, officially. In many ways it was the perfect occupation for him, being a shop clerk. Not only did he get to pick the hours he wanted to work, but when there were no inquisitions as to where he disappeared to every time the full moon was out. When he came into work looking a bit ragged they made a fuss of him, combing his fur neatly down and consoling him when he told them the sad stories of his life--minus the bit about being a werewolf. And the perks of the job! Oh, they were well worth every minute that a customer mistreated him, or gave him a patronizing look. No longer were his clothes tattered. No longer did Fenrir see fit to make friends with the Mud-bloods on the streets. His relationship with them was purely professional and it would stay that way, until he put his master plan into effect. Today Fenrir felt invincible, and showing up at Rodolphus' party without a care in the world certainly filled him with confidence. It had been a long time since Fenrir had even dared be in the same room as the Death Eater, let alone intrude upon the man's own house, but the invitation had found a way into his hands, and he certainly wasn't going to turn it down. Not when he was feeling so giddy.
As he approached the porch, Fenrir was surprised to see two women waiting patiently outside as if it were likely that Rodolphus Lestrange would actually invite them into his house. Fenrir gave them a cursory nod and strutted past them, laying a hairy hand on the door knob, twisting it, and walking into the foyer. He then turned and beckoned the women inside, knowing full well that sometime or other Rodolphus would find him and 'make him pay' for his rude entrance. But it didn't matter. This was his arch-nemesis's fiftieth birthday party and he wasn't going to let anything ruin that, not even the birthday boy himself. Since the Dar--Voldemort had died, Fenrir's confidence had skyrocketed. He was finally sticking up for himself, and this was his final test. If he could last a whole day right under Rodolphus's nose, he would be free from his shackles forever.
Fenny stared at the hideous decorations for a few seconds than slipped into the living room and sat down in one of the high backed chairs. Minutes later he realized that the host happened to be standing only feet from him, staring out the window, caressing a small piece of paper he held fiercely. The werewolf almost smirked at the man's fragile state, but instead merely issued a low growl and rearranged himself in the seat. Yes, indeed, this would be quite party. He could finally show the man he wasn't just the ragged dog that bowed to everyone in his presence. It seemed perhaps that Greyback had gotten the better of his human counterpart, lending him the much needed confidence he'd lacked previously.
Joined: Feb 2008 Gender: Male Posts: 140 Karma: 21
Re: over the hill, now: a downward race « Reply #4 on Oct 13, 2009, 8:45pm »
Today happened to be the day that Tanner had off from all the annoying people at work and some of the paatrons who frequented the ashwinder inn. Tanner was happy though that alot of them were purebloods. He didn't know very many Mudbloods who dare venture into such a pub. It seem however that there were alot more mudbloods were entering due to the dark lord's untimely demise. Little did some of them know that they had a cold-blooded iller serving them drinks. Tanner had just awoken from a long deserved sleep. Today was one of the days he somewhat regretted. Today was the day of Rudolphus' fiftieth birthday party. Tanner was surprised when he recieved the owl asking to RSVP. Tanner figured it had to due with the house elves. He never pegged Mr. Lestrange as the one to host parties. He definitely knew it wasn't Bellatrix. She wasn't into extravagant get togethers. Tanner pulled out his wand and summoned his best party robes from his wardrobe. Today was also good because, It was the chance he could have to act more like a pureblood. Most everyone already mistook him for one anyways so he would fit right in.Tanner also loved a good time, He was leary though because he was unsure if there would be aurors there tonight, he highly doubted it. The Lestranges didn't invite aurors of any sort to anything they did.
Tanner put on his robes and walked out into the cool air. He could easily tell that it was fall. The colors and temperature told him this was so. Tanner once again pulled out his wand "Accio coat" Tanner muttered because he felt no need to walk back inside for something so trivial as a coat. Once the coat had been summoned to him, he put it onand disapparated to the Lestrange mansion. It was something he expected, big fancy and boasted of pureblood status, not that Lestranges need to broadcast that. Spend five minutes with them and you were well aware of who was the superiors. Tanner's little cottage, was the only thing left of his mother's side of the family he had left, He didn't care that it didn't boast of pureblood status.
Tanner landed with a gentle pop outside the mansion of the Lestranges. He saw as he stood there for a minute a figure he hoped he would never see again, Fenrir Greyback. The mangy beast had waltzed right up to the the Lestranges like he owned it, Tanner also saw the mangy mongrel opne the door and walk inside. Tanner figured he walked inside and follow the beast. How dare he defile the wonderful home of the Rudolphus by just waltzing inside. As Tanner walked up the walkway following Fenrir, he saw two more figure gracing the doorstep. One of whom he wan't surprised to see, The little puppet for the grendel, Dianne.
The other onemade his blood boil and almost ruined the party, Alyssa Avery. Just because she was the sister of Freddie Avery, why was she invited to an event certain to filled with ex-death eaters and grendel members. The unexpected invitation of Alyssa, put every chance of discussing Grendel matters to rest. Tanner turned to Dianne and said in very low tone of voice"I'm surprised Lucy let you of the castle Especially after probably finding you passed out after your failure." Tanner Then turned to Alyssa and gave alittle Sneer. Maybe she would figure that she wasn't welcome, as far as Tanner was concerned. Tanner waltzed in similiar to what Fenrir did earlier. "Sorry for the intrusion Rudolphus, but it appears to me that a stray has entered your house uninvited, Would you like me to escort him out? I also feel i should tell you that you have two young lady's on doorstep." Tanner said with the utmost politeness to the host of the house. He also gave alittle bow, He knew it wasn't necessary but was showing some politeness to having been invited here. Tanner an evil grin as he referrefd to Fenrir as a stray.
It was somewhat well known how he felt about the beast. He didn't even see why he was allowed into the death eaters, let alone the grendel. Tanner was ust a leader and if Sawyer had saw fit to allow Fenrir in the group he saw no reason for him to voice disapproval. He just failed to see what a monster like fenrir could do to help their cause besides infect others. Tanner stood quietly waiting to addressed by their beloved host.
Frederick Avery a d u l t m i n i s t r y[M:0:12:4:] member is offline
Joined: Jul 2009 Posts: 11 Karma: 16
Re: over the hill, now: a downward race « Reply #5 on Oct 16, 2009, 1:51pm »
Freddie checked the clasp on his cape once again, ensuring it was securely in place and wouldn’t fall from him at any point during the night. Not that he would be outside for long, but for Freddie this cape would make for great dramatic effect; enthralling onlookers as he swung it from his shoulders and tossed it casually aside, he would pretend not to notice how it had been made from the highest quality materials, a deep purple silk lining the inside. Having it fall gracelessly to the ground just wouldn’t do for image. Frederick knew the importance of body language, knew how it could give off subtle clues about what you were thinking. The other Grendel members, even the leaders, would all make a big show and dance regarding the fact they had complete control over the expressions in their face – they would attempt to have control anyway. Though if you were to be given the honour of having it said that you could control yourself, then that meant your anger and hate too, in Frederick’s opinion. No one emotion was less than another when it came to the consequences of having become victim to it. And after all, Freddie’s opinion was the opinion.
A rather energetic twirl later (turning the cape just so) and he had arrived just beyond the borders of the Lestrange residence – Freddie had always imagined the family living somewhere a little less comfortable, especially since the Ministry tended to reclaim the fortunes of captured Death Eaters – apparently this one had either escaped their notice simply by error, or the pair had been as paranoid as ever and hidden this one asset far from the Ministry radar. Freddie suspected the latter; for what many assumed to be a negative aspect of one’s personality, paranoia did serve its function well.
Wand tucked safely away in its holster and a rather expensive tasting wine (and of rather high percentage also) swinging from his grasp, Freddie made his way up the long path leading to the Manor with a spring in his step. He supposed the walk from there to Lestrange’s home was in order for any protective spells or traps to spring into action, and Freddie was for a moment quite glad he had never made an enemy of the family. A nuisance of himself, certainly, but he had never imagined it coming down to the level of hate. Unless Freddie had a shorter life expectancy than others, doing such a thing would be rather counter productive on his part. Ah, here he was. With a frown, Freddie realised so was his sister. Now that was something he hadn’t counted on, though Freddie was determined not to let it ruin his evening. He was at a party – dance, wine, music, wine, talking, win-…
At least he thought it was a party; the black hangings decorating the place suggested otherwise. Frederick stood just beyond the door, stepping aside to allow the two women at the doorstep through first – he had already witnessed Tanner push past them (his sister, an Avery, nonetheless), particularly rude of him; not that he had expected much more. Freddie had been researching up the man, just as he had done to Freddie, and so far had uncovered little suggesting a Pureblood heritage despite the claims. It was no bother to him at the moment, but Frederick made a note to continue that search for later use – he may not intend to approach Tanner, but should their relationship become difficult…it was always handy to have something on the side for persuasive techniques.
"Sorry for the intrusion Rudolphus, but it appears to me that a stray has entered your house uninvited, Would you like me to escort him out? I also feel i should tell you that you have two young lady's on doorstep."
“And as Head of Beast Division, I also feel it imperative to remind you of the legislations surrounding the code of conduct in regards to werewolves, Mister Bancroft. We’ve been rather successful in tackling those tedious anti-werewolf acts in the past year, would you believe?” this was all casually thrown in from Freddie’s position against the doorframe, his very presence nothing but of someone looking to help. Or it would have been, if not for that damn smile thrown in at the last second, just for good measure – it would be a shame if Freddie had missed this opportunity to rile up the man. It was the truth though – the new Minister had made it one of his top agendas to embark upon a mission to begin equality among everyone, despite numerous protests. Voldemort had in fact made tighter restrictions on the rights of werewolves and other Beings. Despite himself, Freddie would go along with this new approach – the Beast Division had always been known as the rougher of the three departments when it came to magical creatures, and he had made a real attempt in quelling that. It was better to make a friend of the new man leading Britain than an enemy; he may be a Grendel, but there was no way Freddie was going to cut off contact from other influential circles.
That being said, Freddie took a quick glance at the other female in their presence – her kind had nothing to do with him, instead being taken care of by the Beings Division. At least they had it slightly better than other creatures. Frederick poked his head inside, leaning his weight on his arms as the swung from the frame (that would come back to bite Freddie if Lestrange caught him) and gazed around the room. “The decorations are -”Drab, Dull, Gloomy, a complete and utter Disaster…?“-lovely” he finished, a grin appearing on his features as he waved the wine bottle in the air, his eyebrows running the risk of having a life of their own as they danced around.
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