BEAUTY IS TERROR

{ SELENE I. AVERY } A lovely thing she was, in these hours when she was most dangerous - soft, graceful, a vision of divine absolution, ichor flowing through her veins and making her glow, making her desirable. A lovely thing she was, when she had so much power to h u r t .

[corvumregina-blog]

@ofselwyns

     They were to make rounds together tonight. 

     It still stirred a strange sensation in her stomach, to know that of all the exceptional, brilliant wizards who she could have shared this responsibility -- Head student -- with, it had been Nikolai who had been chosen, who had been deemed her equal. She had looked him in the eye that day in the headmaster’s office, and seen the understanding dawn upon him just as it struck her. They were not imagining things. Even Dumbledore, one of the greatest leaders alive, saw it in them -- a match, an equal and opposing force. She had looked him the eye then, and perhaps that was the moment in which she knew with certainty that he was a threat. No matter how smooth and deviously he smiled, he was a threat. Her threat. Hers to neutralize. 

    The trophy room is stark, permeated with a chill, a thrill. Selene waits for Nikolai to arrive as arranged, her eyes roaming over the rows upon rows of golden awards, each bearing the name and recognition of some glorious achiever, notable accomplishment. They shine with the glow of decades of toiling hands. But no matter, this was all just a fleeting show. Real legends never died, and they certainly didn’t need to be memorialized in this dim-lit, stifling room: lost in dust and memory. Real legends -- well, they lived on. Their names were written in history books and alluded to by scholars. She would never be a legend. But she had the ability to make them. 

    And speak of the devil, and he appears in robes of black and silver, looking every inch like a legend in the making, gold standard king. She doesn’t smile at him, but instead turns; arches a brow, regards him with a lingering silence. 

    “You’re late,” she says at last, voice taking on a cold edge. Everyone bowed to him, but she would not let him see her quake. “You must know that it’s bad manners to keep your company waiting, Nikolai.” And she can’t help it, she has to touch upon this bone too, just to make it feel her presence. “Were you with Evan?” 

[corvumregina-blog]

»◙«

“Malicious friend snatcher.” 

“Dark-streaked Adonis.”

nikolai. wine-dark gaze, crimson grasp, one hand on your throat, the other in your heart. what do you find behind their ribcage, conquistador? blood like your own – silver, cold, serpentine? (competitor. ally. impossibility.)

[corvumregina-blog]

»◙«

“Survivor of tradition.” 

andromeda. she had fled the wolves, she had evaded their snapping jaws with her soul intact. survival doesn’t end in a day. It lasts  lifetimes, centuries, forevers. tread quietly now, cheri – they don’t suspect that you’ve slipped from them just yet. 

[memesfortehsoul-blog]

send me »◙« + a character name and my muse will say the first three words that come to mind when hearing that name

[crimsvns]

There was a particular travesty found within the hours spurring dusk, weathered stone centuries old capturing dozens & hundreds of voices, melodies of conversation and hymns of human insolence, drumming into the skeleton of the castle and enveloping all within it to the strum of noise, consistent and steady like a beating heart. If he could, Nathaniel would choke it into silence, an enfeebled sliver of his mind desperate for it.

The celerity in his steps, heels a light clack atop the stone beneath, was consistent in sparingly short doses, the maintained and sculpted drawl of his pace stabile just so, a mimicry of his floundering irritation. His wand sat within the space of his forearm, a familiar weight & anchor against the current of his thoughts and moving body, the fabric of his uniform settling like a facile breeze upon it. There was just a mere two corridors left to trek before the towering entrance of the Great Hall loomed before him, and a skin of bitterness clung to him as his footfall persisted, daring to burn into unrelenting fire if he were to be halted in his way.

The path was a foreign one, approached out of want for privacy astray from the routine route far too many others partook in, and an itch of blazing regret, blooming uncomfortably hot in his chest, dug root in his mind as what he consciously chose to avoid became an obstacle now he couldn’t, frustration prickling like a vengeful thorn at the sight of a silhouette of another.

It was an age-old arrogance that taunted the words from his mouth, a devastating sense of superiority coating his tongue in words far from saccharine, but rather sickly rotten. “ Move. ” An entitled brat making a command, to a face still veiled by the shadows of a thin corridor, perhaps a sure dozen feet of empty space between the two, and an even fewer to their sides. A simple step to either the right or left would have saved his breath, saved him from engaging with the other, saved him from losing a few precious moments of time, but misstepping for the sake of another was not a habit Nathaniel humored, and the lack of change in his pace was tell-tale ⏤⏤

Scour out of my way or crash and break.

[corvumregina-blog]

      The halls reverberate with an ancient silence, a silence that is incomplete; not entirely still --- but eerily alive. Beyond the surface of the castle lays an intricate puzzle of halls and hidden rooms, moving staircases and disappearing doors; and tonight she’s been given the task of watching it sigh in its sleep. Toss. Turn. Long nights and twilight excursions are nothing new to a girl who has come to capitalize upon every hungry mouth and roaming hand. But this is new. Now, Selene is not swallowed by the castle, but she swallows it. She holds its leash in one slim hand, and if it dare rise against her, she had the power to twist it into submission, hold its secrets against it. Heed your mistress, slumbering beast. 

    She’s nearing the centre of the castle, closing in on the Great Hall, when she hears the telltale click of shoes upon marble. This great establishment speaks; like a telltale heart, it beats loudly for those it wants to betray, and silences for those who it wants to absorb into its bones. Her own steps are soft, well-trained, quiet. Theirs -- destructive. Ah, but of course. How predictable and unpredictable all once once. She turns a corner, and comes face to face with none other than her brother, flesh and blood. Avery. They stare at one another for a cold moment, the heir and the prize-mare, the prince and the scorned consort. She raises an eyebrow. He raises his voice. Move. It carries the same ugly pride that has razed the warzone between them for days, months, years. Lifetimes. 

   “Is that the way to speak to your sister?” Selene replies within a drawn out beat, unfazed. Her voice is cool, level; his opposite, the countermeasure to every messy thrashing movement he has come to make. “I raised you to be better than this.” The hidden message of the statement speaks a thousand words. She smiles; tightly, sharply. Very few people see the true depth of her claws, the poison of her teeth. 

                    Careful, little brother, is her own message, unspoken but well-heard. 

[corvumregina-blog]

arosenamedevan:

And just like that the tension left him, because of that one beloved voice gently teasing him. She did that to him, her presence alone  could silence that nagging little voice inside his head that constantly reminded him of what he should and shouldn’t do or be. With her around he could breathe again.

Evan opened his eyes and his heart as well and smiled at Selene. It was a rare, real smile, one of those he reserved specifically for her and Nikolai. They didn’t need walls around each other, didn’t want them either. He wanted Selene to see him how he was, safe in the knowledge that she would never hurt him.

“I’ve reconsidered.” He reached out and took her hand, lacing their fingers together. “There’s just enough space in here for two. Please stay?” 

He’d take this over solitude any day. Selene and Nik, those were the two people he’d never get sick of having around. The ones he began missing as soon as they were out of sight. 

Selene knew him in a way no one else did. Evan suspected that she had known about his preferences long before he did. Maybe, in a way she’d always known. Maybe that’s why he’d been the one man who’d outlasted all the others. Because he could give her what all of them couldn’t. Because he could promise her to stand by her no matter what and there was no doubt that he’d keep that promise.

This was perfect, he thought. A moment of peace, a chance to talk, just the two of them. Who knew when they’d get an opportunity like this again, now that she was Head Girl. As proud as he was of her, and of Nikolai as well, he hated the idea of them having less time for him. Maybe he was too needy, but he liked having them near at all times. Although maybe not both at the same time. That could easily end in disaster. And while Evan had a feeling that there was much more to his bes friends’ endless squabbles, he preferred to be out of the way when they happened.

“Do you even have the time to stay?” his eyes fell to the badge on her chest. “I wouldn’t want to keep you from something more important. That badge suits you perfectly I might add. It brings out your character. And your eyes.”

      “Toujours,” she responds graciously, allowing him to pull her into the compartment, where she slides into the booth opposite him, bright eyes boring into his; taking in the sight of him. His hair’s grown out in the summer, he’s wearing white today, a crisp shirt which highlights the slimness of his frame. He looks good; but he’s been better, she knows this. He’s always been better. 

     Toujours. Always, she would stay. Always, she has time for him. One word can speak volumes.

      So she gives him this courtesy: she doesn’t ask how he is, because that would be an insult to them both, to think that she can’t feel the tension radiating off of him in waves, and that he doesn’t know that his every emotion is hers to read, hers to keep warm in the palm of her hands. Instead, they fall easily into the cadence which has carried them through the mountains and valleys of their six, and now seven years; in school. 

     “You’re such a flirt, cheri,” it’s a matter of fact statement. She still hasn’t let go of his hand yet; and their joint fingers lay serenely on the surface of the table between them, like a promise not ready to be relinquished. The scenery outside passes by in a blur, green fields yellowing into the first hints of autumn, peaks and rivers, an entire world coming and going like a muggle movie. Here one day, perhaps gone tomorrow; if the leaders of this revolutionary war so wished it. “Have you tried that line on Nikolai yet?” 

[corvumregina-blog]

marlenethemckinnon:

The majesty of the castle never failed to excite Marlene. Cobblestone walls hinted at ancient adventure; tragic ghosts spoke of their historic feats. The vibrant youth of the existing class, the innocence of the entering first years - the presence of it all was exhilarating. With something akin to both hope and anticpation coursing through her veins, she could feel the beginnings of yet another unforgettable year amongst the chatter of friends.

“I realize that we’ve only been within the castle for an hour or so, but I’ve already started planning the biggest bash of the year, to be overshadowed by every other party I’ll be responsible for. I was thinking that we have it on the Quidditch pitch - veiled, of course, so as not to alert the professors. Any feedback?”

      This castle has come alive, and she is at its centre, hailing every secret-dripped corner, playing the part of both the informant and the executioner. It’s strange, how suddenly public opinion can turn against a single individual, when they are given power to punish and chastise. Robespierre and his men, the Spanish Inquisition, Savonarola’s Florentine children, with their saintly faces and hungry hands, demanding penance in the name of the master who ruled them. How quickly power descended into festering hatred, how quickly animosity was bred when rules are set and enforced. The headmaster must of known this: why else then, would he place two such private individuals into the school’s spotlight? She and Nikolai were creatures of the night, playing their games from well-placed shadows -- and now their hidden talents were being turned inside out, used for such mundane uses. 

      After all, when everything was said and done; it wouldn’t matter to her or anyone else who was head girl in the year of 1976. 

    Nonetheless, she shoulders her responsibility quietly, with false demurity, as she has all her life. But her eyes flash, her mouth is a knife’s blade, and she feels it quirking as she approaches the Eastern Wing, where a group of students has congregated in reunion. Passing them, she catches the tail of one query:  - veiled, of course, so as not to alert the professors. Any feedback?

     “I suggest keeping watch for the head girl,” Selene offers, her voice cutting through the reverie. They all spin towards her, looking as they’ve been caught in the midst of a crime. She’s smiling, amused; she doesn’t want to be their villain. ‘Better to be feared than loved‘ was the motto of politicians and tyrants. Love had always served her well, she would not abandon it for the dogs. She lets her gaze land upon Marlene, who not so surprisingly, was the voice who had spoken.

     “She might have to report an infraction, if she were to find out.” She’s only half joking, but to them; she might as well be threatening expulsion. They don’t know her, after all. They only know her image, that cool mirror of herself that she projects. 

[corvumregina-blog]

blackbloodstains:

“ I’d say I prefer a little silence and solitude over the sound of three fourth years yelling and bruising one another like bumbling babboons over a Hufflepuff in the corridors. But, when all else fails nothing but a good lovers quarrel seems to entertain me on rounds. ” Amusement trickles through vocals as lips up curl , taking slight delight in the encounter retold.

       “Mm,” she’s standing besides Andromeda, surveying the scene as it unfolds. “I can see where the appeal lies.” It’s a subtly sardonic sort of statement, but if you were to look at Selene; the straight profile, the unyielding gaze, you might never tell. She’s dressed in black, still familiarizing herself with the weight of the badge, and the title; upon her cloak. It feels as if she should be more severe, now that she has it. Let her be cold and domineering, let her be your handler, a silver-thorned whip of the law: now she has an excuse to punish. 

    “They start their love games early, don’t they?” She speaks as if they are children and their shouting match is so removed from her, when only a few years ago she was their age. Perhaps, boys would’ve shouted over her affections too, pushing each other in the halls with exaggerated caliber. “We have a new generation of hot-headed romantics on our tails.” At this, she smiles. It’s funny to her, in a way; that in this school of theirs there was so much strife over love and war. “More fodder for the fire.” 

[corvumregina-blog]

arosenamedevan:

hogwarts express; september 1st, 1976

Evan didn’t mind his friends. He even loved some of them. Two of them. And liked most of the others. HIs friends weren’t horrible. But right now he found them exhausting. Which was ironic considering that he’d only reunited with most of them a few hours ago, after several long weeks of summer break. Or maybe it wasn’t ironic at all. Maybe he needed a few days to readjust to being around people again.

They weren’t even being particularly noisy. Shouting, or any other barbaric behaviour wasn’t like them. They were civilised people after all. But arguments happened and when voices had been raised earlier, Evan had slipped away quietly, unnoticed by the others.

Finding a vacant compartment on the Hogwarts Express was a nearly impossible task, so Evan had emptied one for himself. He didn’t know what had happened to the small group of Ravenclaws who had occupied it prior to his appearance, and frankly he didn’t care. All he cared about was the sudden lack of voices talking over one another.

He’d originally planned to read but now his book lay forgotten in his lap, the tip of one finger idly tracing the outline of the pages as he watched the Scottish countryside fly by outside the window. The mountains seemed as if covered in liquid gold and every now and then he caught a glimpse of the sun hanging low in the sky. Evan closed his eyes and concentrated on the warmth on his face and the dancing lights behind his  lids.

He kept them closed even when he heard the door slide open. But his body tensed and his fingers closed tightly around the book. “I’m sorry,” he was already missing the silence again. “But this compartment is taken, as you can see. Please shut the door quietly on your way out, will you?”

        She was not a girl who grew anxious over reunions, but this year there was no better term for the feeling which rose thick and heavy in her chest, like thorns stubbornly pervading a garden of well-kept roses. Yes, there was a certain decorum to it; to arriving at the station with her bag and her badges and the title of Head Girl newly pinned upon her cloaks like a sheen of gold. With it, came new responsibilities. With it, came new proximity. But there was also a certain displeasure. The moment Selene sets eyes upon Nikolai, she is reminded of their mutual (and at this she smiles bitterly) friend. And the pressure pushing against her heart and reaching up her throat has a new name: Evan. And now named for what it is, it persists. 

       It’s nearly an hour until she’s freed from her position. Patrols are sent out, duties are completed, she meets the Selwyn heir’s gaze with a neutral acknowledgement, and silently they part ways. There is a foolishness to their stubborn unwillingness to submit to the other. After all, weren’t they both looking for the same boy? They were all held together by a common tie, and perhaps Evan was naive about how she felt; or she had maintained her mask too well, but still he didn’t see how jealous she was, that she had to compete for his affections. She had spent her entire life competing; and in this one matter she had thought herself singular. Still, it doesn’t tarnish her bond with him -- the bond which leads her through the corridors of Hogwarts Express, glancing sharply through opaque windows and past mahogany corners. 

     In one of the last compartments, she finds him. For a moment, she stands still outside it; simply observing. There is always a sense of quiet solitude to a boy like Evan Rosier; in those moments when he is alone, it is as if all the world fades. Even in his state of rest, eyes closed and book fondly forgotten, she can see the exhaustion which lays upon him; a blanket of fatigue, a coat of expectation. She knows him, after all. She would know him in the dark, she would know him in war and in peace. She would know him by the hunch of his shoulders, the quirk of his mouth: and when she finally slides open the door; she knows this too -- that his words are not meant for her. 

     “Oh?” she’s surprised, but also amused; by his aversion. Her lips curve upwards, and she feels the knot in her chest begin to unravel of its own accord - alleviated by familiarity, soothed by relief. “As you wish, cheri. But first, open your eyes and ask me again.” There’s a hint of teasing in her tone.