"Oh why yes— I never mentioned my family’s regular bacchanals? How odd. Liquor, debauchery and ritualistic sacrifices. That’s the Ogden way."
“And there’s no room in that for subtleties and false niceties.”
"It’s a shame your upbringing was so poor, then, because false niceties may not always be as false as you suspect them of being."
“Though, one could not expect more of someone of your calibre. Simplicity and intentions written on your face is more your brand of whisky is it not?”
"So, what are you doing here, Alexandra? Had enough of exploring new beds every night or sitting on a high horse pretending that you are not like everyone else?"
"That depends love. Is your perfume Eau de Lestrange for today?"
Haven’t you heard the saying ‘don’t say anything unless you have something nice to say’? Or were you brought up by brutes bathing in firewhisky day and night?”
“Oh, Alexandra. I did not expect you to come here. Am I to be scorched on the pyre this time or will you actually enter the dorm without throwing insults my way?”
"And once you lose yourself you have two choices: find the person you used to be or lose that person completely."
– Brooke Davis (One Tree Hill)
A temporary distraction, or so he had convinced himself time and time again. She was a woman, which gave her little status other than plaything. She could be nothing more than a momentary entertainment, a fleeting want, satisfied easily, and disposed of even more easily. But he did not wish to end it. Not as quickly as he had all his other conquests. He had begun to realize a simple fact, which had escaped him before, so often. A game such as this could only be won in a certain way. He would have to truly take all he could from her, destroy what innocence remained, and be finished with her. Only then would he be complete in his work. That was what he told himself. He would ruin her. For if he did not, surely she would ruin him.
So they had begun their dark dance, falling further and further into their own shadows. Even he had not expected such a turn of events. His game had turned far more complex than he had ever hoped it be. But such was the way with emotions. They were unreliable things. And quite treacherous when out of control.
He had been waiting, missing his own classes a habit now so deeply engrained he could not change it if he wished to. He knew when her class was meant to finish, and he bided his time. As the first few students filtered out, his interest was piqued. Slowly, but surely, the last of her peers exited, and she followed with them. She had straggled behind. How convenient.
His arm snaked around her waist without a word, pressing her small frame firmly against his. Pulling her into the adjoined corridor, empty and silent, he pinned her against the stone laden wall, all within a few choice moments. Eyes blazing blue, he trailed his gaze over her, a hand on her neck, pushing her chin up closer to him. “Miss Vance.” He breathed out. The greeting was a paradox, one he used purposefully. A proper acknowledgement of her ladylike status, yet laced with such lustful undertones that it was sinful.
Destruction, it was inevitable in the time of war, but never did Emmeline Vance think that it would take its form of an evil that took over her sense, her mind. The war would create ruins of graveyards and souls, and months, years, ago the brunette had sworn that she would not be amongst such casualties. Instead, determined doe eyes had landed on a throne high above her head and status, and with ruthless calculation Emmeline had climbed higher than any of her name, and with satisfied smirk she could say that she was close to being crowned Q U E E N. Ambition tainted her slender form in every possible way, and with vicious schemes the brunette would pick apart each obstacle piece by piece. Yet, her actions would never prove fatal. A heart stood in the way of such viciousness, and it was a heart that had caused her mother to fall from her throne, leaving a possible kingdom to those of the finest lineage, and not herself. Such a fate, was feared for a girl of Emmeline’s birth. Thus, when the handsome Rodolphus Lestrange had approached her she had seen a possibility. A possibility that would prove to be her own ruin.
Impatiently her mind drifts far away from the classroom, letting schemes and plans take the place of monotone lectures. The parchment before her becoming a play-field of names and agendas. She was clever, of that she knew, yet Emmeline could not help but feel as if the control she valued, and held close to her heart, had slipped between her fingers. At this time, all control she had seemed to slip through her fingers as soon as he came near, and the thought of him - it made her want to leave the classroom quickly. Therefore, it was sheer will that made Emmeline gather her belongings with excruciating slow moves as the class is called to an end, and when she exits the classroom she knows that he will be there. A secret part of her almost fearing that he will have forgotten her.
It is familiar arm snakes around her waist when she comes out in the corridor, and doe eyes widen with surprise. In an attempt to fall into the facade she so dearly wishes to hold on to, the one where she was not so wiling to conform to his whims, a smirk becomes present on angelic lips. You’re late. So close was he that her butterfly heart turned into a furious beating against fragile ribs. A smirk signifying her attempt to regain herself when his body was so close to her lithe form. Her thoughts flitting away from essays and social chess as she gets lost in his body so close to hers. His scent wrapping itself around her, suffocating slowly, yet she breathes in more. Around him she turned into clay, ready to be formed by him and thus her lips slightly parts at his fingertips against her chin.
"It seems to me as if I am very punctual, mister Lestrange." Her voice quivering as her mouth moves over the syllables of his name, and she detests it. The suffocating feeling overwhelming as her heart takes over her mind with determination. As if she was a bomb and he was the trigger, she would follow his movements and fall. It was a curse, this heart of hers. "For I doubt you would have waited if I were truly late."
Shifting over to welcome her friend unto the bed, she allows her magazine to shut, discarding it for far more interesting information. Trailing her eyes over the girl, she offers a laugh, and a knowing look. If they were to play games, both would play equally. “Busy girl.”
"And what makes you think destruction is on my mind?" She asks innocently, pouting at the thought. "Here I was planning my wardrobe for next season, and now I’m being accused of heinous acts. How— ridiculous.”
Doe eyes studies her friend at her comment but is careful not to let anything pass through. Thus, lithe form lies down on the soft bed stretching her arms above her head trying to disperse attention from her obvious encounters from earlier, or perhaps it was her mind playing tricks on her making Emmeline feel as if truth was written in the air around her.
"Busy with first years getting lost, if that is what you meant." Lies falling of her tongue easily as eyebrows raise. "Then it must have been a wardrobe fitting for social destruction, for I hardly believe it to be innocent planning. Innocence doesn’t suit you, love, never have and never will.” Her words a mixture of an insult, sarcasm and a compliment as smile spreads over her lips.
Flipping through the latest edition of Witch Weekly, Rita would have appeared to the casual observer quite preoccupied amongst the fashion articles and advice columns. But with an ever attentive ear, and watchful eye, she was simply waiting for the precise moment to strike.
The dormitory door opened, and not a flicker of attention was given to the new occupant of the room, an impassive look on her features. Yet, she did offer a greeting. “And where have you been, Em?”
Heartbeats aching against fragile ribcage as smile plays on bruised lips. Bruised from rough kisses, but in her mind love love love. The smile turning to a smirk as lithe form moves through the common room with a secret evidently displayed on her very body, yet no one would know.
She was a young woman longing for power and name, and she thought herself to be in the reach of it.
It is with surprise she finds her friend in the dormitory, and the smile borders on a smirk as she speaks.
"Everywhere and nowhere, dearie." Slender body settles down on Rita’s bed. "And it seems to me as if you have destruction on your mind, yet again."
For where would the fun be in telling all her secrets? Trust no one.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.