strvngemagic·:
where: edge of the forbidden forest when: september 17th, post-death eater attack (around 9:30pm) who: eden + open to any death eater
“just what.” eden clawed frantically at her face to dismiss the glamour holding her grey mask in place. it fell to the muddy ground with a soft ‘plop’! “the bloody fuck.” summoned the mask back into her hands and twisted the terrifying visage once, twice, three times in her hands. a small part of her wanted to hurl it at the whomping willow. “was that?!”
she was accustomed to instruction - her grandfather, her teacher of dark magic since her youth, was very particular. thorough. bellatrix could be those things when she wanted to be, but tonight was chaos — and not the good kind. she’d been yearning for the chance to show off her skills in public for years now, not just in sporadic missions directed from the shadows. if she was to be a death eater in the fullest sense of the term, she wanted the assured destruction and rush of power that came with it. instead, she got a last-minute summons to a trite debate and no directive as to whom she should target. oh, she’d slung spells like she was born for it, of course, slashed the common folk down where they stood. she hoped they hurt, she hoped they feared her. but eden couldn’t rightly say she’d accomplished anything tonight, and that fact annoyed her to no end.
she grasped the robes of the nearest black-clad colleague she could find. anger seeped into her every word: “did she tell you that she was going to pull that stunt?!”
eden dolohov: a seamstress massimo deemed to be more talented at mangling bodies than sewing pieces of cloths together. the grapple of her hands, though nimble and smaller in size compared to his, had the strength of a magnitude 9 earthquake. her touch automatically sent his mental walls to harden into thick slabs of concrete while his facial features skewed in reaction to her vehement inquiry. “it’s just the beginning, and you’ve already lost your wits… was your grand debut not up to par with the story you drew in your head ? —no, it must’ve slipped lestrange’s interesting mind to tell anyone of her plans.”
the young wizard might have brought believable justice to both roles he juggled, but the death eaters were truly his people. he didn't have to stray too far from home to find common ground. despite his growing betrayal towards the masked clan, their night-tide souls, and their head-on determination to conquer destruction rather than fearing collapse... he respected it, he identified with it all. a gaping hole could be discovered where his moral compass should be and the relentless crimson found in them was the same darkness that rotted his core, too. massimo rossa was a far cry from a saving grace, he was no valiant hero for the human race. but he wanted to win.
a quick swivel of his hips allowed the ink cloak to be released from eden’s chain. with a tug and a paw, he flattened any imprint on the thick fabric and returned his gaze to the older woman, releasing a pent-up breath. “as delicious as your theatrics can be, spare me the tantrum. you’ll have another chance at whatever it is you missed tonight.”
