THEY RAISED ME; THEY MADE ME GOOD AT IT THEY DIDN’T EXPECT ME TO LIKE IT THEY’RE AFRAID OF ME NOW AND I CAN’T TURN IT OFF MAYBE IT’S BETTER THIS WAYA M Y C U S C A R R O W
Dirk was walking back to his office, reading over a file as he walked. He was now in full swing with everything and was ready to just act like what happened a few months ago didn’t. Hearing someone speak to him, he stopped, turning towards the person for a moment. “I’m sorry, what was that?” He asked.
“You look. A little. Rattled.” Amycus spoke slowly, as if he wasn’t entirely certain he was right, something about the emanating waves of passing uncertainty didn’t find Dirk in the worst of moments. “Might pay to get a little air, take a breather.” Walk right on out and allow Amy the momentary reprieve he’d found in slipping in here mostly undetected, until now.
“You want to know why I’m mad?!” She snapped at one of her employees. “It’s because I don’t understand how hard it is to order the right kind of flowers! Every mistake you makes goes against my name, so get it right next time!” She stood there and watched them walk away, sighing as her head shook, unaware of the person outside of her office.
It was amusing to say the least, watching a woman that all too few could write off as too soft lose composure over something as sordid as flowers, A black through and through, apparently. The wry smirk that lifted the corners of his lips, lent against the edge of the door frame as her disgruntled employee shuffled past him; with every effort not to get too close. He chuckled deep in the concave of his chest, “Want me to scare ‘em a little more? Might get the point across.”
Summary: Nicholas Rosier meets an untimely end & the Dark Lord tasks Amycus with something life altering.
Displeasure did not settle well on the shoulder's of Lord Voldemort. As an already volatile creature, anything that so much as mildly inconvienced him, or his grand plan, could lead to an array of gore in order to teach a lesson. And now, a lesson needed to be taught. At the table of his followers; he counted each as they arrived; he sat silently while they discussed their most recent efforts to upend the wizarding and muggle worlds. It seemed only two knew that his silence meant suffering was coming, and they both kept their eyes on the table in front of them. As was the protocol after all. Everyone else, the canon fodder they were, were far too comfortable. Even his right hand spoke to Crabbe beside and barely even noticed.
"Rosier!" A fist slammed on the table to capture the attention of those around him. Nicholas snapped to attention. "Tell me what exactly you were thinking when you set your son's house ablaze?" His voice was calm, because he had no reason to yell. Yet. "I- you wanted me to intimidate-" Voldemort's hand raised to stop him from speaking any further. "No, Rosier. I did not want you to intimidate. I wanted you to bring him to us. I did not think I had to make myself any clearer. Stand in the center of the room." It him a moment to obey the order- perhaps because he knew what was coming, or perhaps because he'd....forgotten his place.
It seemed the lot of them had.
"Amycus Carrow. Kill him. Slowly. And when you've finished, meet me in the sitting room." Tom stood, tucking his wand into the sleeve of his robe. "As for the rest of you, watch him. I will know if you don't."
How any of those within the room with them had forgone the ability to read the room was beyond him, the look of flickering amusement he cast at his sister as they lingered just shy of the painstaking pissing contest each of their fellow death eaters threw across the table. As if the near deadly silence from the head of the table didn't spark the most obvious state of the heavy air around them. Lingering amber hues watched carefully, the ongoing distaste he held for so many among them, for the pack of animals they could so surely be, all while maintaining their own incompetence at the best of times irked him and the warmth of his palm that found Alecto's knee beneath the table with a slight squeeze which might have conveyed his own impatience. It'd been a foolish move, and something that Amy had well and truly known the moment he'd received the owl; an oddity in itself considering the last eight text messages he'd gotten had been from Rosier's son.
It'd burnt through rough, calloused fingertips stained with as much crimson as several of the others put together, but merlin if they didn't itch to rip the throat out of the bumbling idiot who thought pushing Evan would somehow bring him into the fold. Idiots.
The fleeting passing of a smirk that cut a glow all too eerie across his face painted a picture that all too few had really ever seen. Satisfaction bloomed within his chest as he stood as the Dark Lord did. The hush that fell as their leader lay down the request with a hardly veiled, and wholly promising threat. Just as asked, he took his time. He spilled blood where it lacked every necessity and ensured that the ear-splitting screams that erupted from Nicholas would live long and hard among the walls of the building, etched to the ribs within his concave chest for safe keeping.
A tender notion that both made his job drawing Evan back to him all the easier. The last lingering breath he took pressed the curve of his smirk to near permanence, the carrow's rather... callous methods something that all too few had witnessed to vibrantly. A lowly chuckle rising as he wiped the blood from the palm of his hands against the thigh of his jeans and moved with his ever predatory gait towards the sitting room; casting little more than the effervescent playful yet all too dangerous glare across his shoulder to those he left behind with his latest kill. "My lord," He spoke quietly and with every ounce of respect that befall only the one man before him.
The world had never been a place that Tom felt he fit. Among all the trappings his followers rambled on about he found no ounce of pleasure. What did please him were things of the worst kind. The screams of agony as Nicholas was tortured until his last breath. And the knowledge that exactly what had been intended by his order to the rest of them had been understood. Follow. Or you die. There was no room for excuses.
An army was required and the while the loss of Nicholas meant they were down one solider, they would soon gain another. His faith lied in very few of the Death Eaters. Amycus. Alecto. Bellatrix. Lucius. The rest were sheep. His index finger stroked the head of Nagini slowly as it rested upon his knee. The piece of his soul resting inside of her was the most vital key in keeping him alive to fulfill his mission. Through all of the horcruxes he had made thus far, his appearance had begun to whither and change. There wasn’t much of a soul left inside the body that he occupied, just enough to carry three feelings. Pride. Power, and anger. The rest he could fake.
“Well done, Amycus,” he lifted his chin to look at the man, the curve of thinned lips lifting in a twisted grin. “I see the need to task you with something I am certain you are more than capable of accomplishing. You may bring your sister if you wish but it is not required.” He gestured to the seat beside his own, as if he were offering a right hand position to the younger male. “The minister must be killed, soon. Since you have already lain the path i see no reason for you not to be the one to carry this out. The second thing will take longer, but I would prefer it if you accomplished it as quickly as possible.
Do what Nicholas could not. Recruit the boy.”
There was nothing quite like the praise from the man that sat before him; Amycus knew beyond doubt that he’d met his own fathers sense of expectations long before the Carrow patriarch had ever intended him to. A diligent effort on his own part to simply surmise everything his father ever thought to shove down his throat and one up him somewhere along the way. Intrinsically, passing everything he’d learnt to his sister, and every secret he’d found among the dalliance of spell books and long forgotten letters were used beyond the precipice of doubt to warp his fathers mind into thinking it’d been all his own dire lessons that brought him here. Stood before the Dark Lord as a most trusted soldier.
Amycus never had any ounce of difficulty in swallowing back the idea that he was little more than a piece in the mans plans to so effortlessly ensure the rest fell into line. His wavering morality and penchant for the taste of blood made it almost difficult to pass up; and knowing that the twisted likes of his own mind had relentlessly planted some ounce of fear among those not quite contorted enough within their soul to counteract such violence, well; it was a grand prize for compliance. “Anything you wish.” A wry smirk toyed with the recesses of his mouth, the Carrow already burning anticipation in the curve of his palm as he waited, almost baited breath for the task dire enough to request such privacy.
Like trickling water from a leaky faucet, it curled around his spine and imploded a certain euphoria against every rough edge of his soul. Kill the minister. Oh, but it was certainly a task that he intended to fulfill on his own, not a word drawn out to his own sister for the undeniable knowledge that she’d never let him do this alone --- not for the consequences it held. The soft tilt of his chin carried with it a glint much darker than his amber hues as he took the seat he was offered. Whatever it took ---- and it certainly didn’t hurt to know that this one would taste all the better for the chaos it’d bring. “Nicholas was incompetent.” He hissed out, unable to find reason in the senseless destruction inflicted upon a man he’d been tasked with bringing into the fold --- as if the art of manipulation had truly slipped the now deceased Rosier. “Give me a month, you’ll have both the Minister dead and Rosier eating out of the palm of your hand.”
Something archaic lived in the scintillation of Tom’s eyes, something that raged a war with the desperate need for chaos that lived within Amy. How he’d ever become so truly lucky to find himself among the throng of people willing to let loose the harrowed devil within the Carrow twin was beyond him, but he’d be damned before he let such opportunity go. “I won’t disappoint.”
what does 'a smile made for war' mean to you? it sounds nice to me but i don't really get it.
sharp and reckless and wild, I’ve got nothing left to lose, brittle, I’ve seen the fucking world and I know what I’m up against, kiss me one last time, tongue demanding and desperate, heavy breaths in the dark and sweat on skin and fuck, if I can’t dream you the world I’ll go out and take it.
E: “Amycus. I need your help again. My Mothers house....”
The message painted fluorescent light across his screen as part of it scrolled over the dark background. Little more than thought, memory and the sharpened pop as he disapparated just inside his own door, bike helmet still within his grasp. Ironic, considering he’d been showing up unannounced wherever Evan might have been and based it purely on coincidence and his untimely ability to find the man at any moment. It certainly didn’t help that his social following was rather open about where and when they’d seen him. This, however ---- Evan reaching out for help, for the second time had him burning with anticipation, the very palms of his hands burning, he was near giddy of what in the greater circles of hell Evan Rosier could need from him this time.
Landing just shy of the back gate, Amycus still very much relying on the fact that he could so surely show up in the most unlikely of places --- knocking on the front door seemed a little too predictable, and the message a little more urgent than such stringent manners. Prying the iron gate loose was easy with the flicker of his wand before it found the depths of his pocket, the Carrow more than prepared to find stride in the length of the grounds until he was caught something akin to off guard by the sight of Evan, once again, covered head to toe in blood that very clearly didn’t belong to him. “What the fuck.” He spoke, more out of surprise and a lick of humor than actual shock as the body that lay at his feet remained completely indiscernible. “Do I look like some kind of cleaning service to you, Rosier?” Still, heavy boots flattened the grass beneath, “If you’ve bloodied up some ridiculously expensive carpet inside with this shit, I swear....”
While Amycus preferred the convience and beauty of a handgun, Alecto found her comfort in the handle of a blade. It became the extension of her arm whenever she weilded it. It has been too long since they were a pair together, and she couldn’t help the smile beneath the mask as he shot and she stabbed- a grunt coming from her as the hilt made contact with the chin of a hunter who’d made the mistake of coming too close. It was a bit late for the theatrics conversation, but as she wiped the blade on her pant leg and leaned into the touch at her back, she nodded. There was only one person she would ever listen to, after all.
“I will do my best, brother, but I can make no promises. I haven’t had a good release in so long.” The pout was ever present in her tone. “Have you an idea of who exactly we’re taking for this mission?” The compendium she kept was thorough- a track of every Auror breathing, ranked by their influence, strength, and if she got the chance to fight them, fighting style. Her top choice would have been Alastor and Kingsley, but she supposed she could do with less.
“You take the right, and I the left?”
There was a breath of irony in the pair of magically profound people finding more comfort in the weapons of muggles. While he’d never shy away from the ease and precision that either of them could manage with a carefully placed spell or hex, he knew that the up close and personal nature that came with the destruction of such weapons and the long tirade of their family business left them difficult to shy away from. It was never a command, never an order --- the gentle push and pull of every teaching he’d offered Alecto that wasn’t a simple given from their parents stemmed from the dire notion that he knew she could best them all with little more than the ice at her fingertips. Mention of any sense of release had teeth catch the inside of his cheek as he lent his head down a little further, the blonde tresses silken against his forehead as Amy’s warm breath caught the span of the curve of her throat. “You’ll get it, soon enough.”
It was a snap shift, a growing animalistic feeling that tore through his gut at the prospect of both having his sister so close and the inevitability of the destruction they’d leave behind. “Best scenario. We take Moody and whoever is closest to him.” It didn’t matter which, not as long as they held an upstanding auror. One who held some semblance of power among them; access to places most didn’t. “See you at the other end.” As casual as one might have considered had they been walking through a darkened tunnel -- and not going head to head with whatever remained of the ministry and the hunters that raged their own war.
She had only knocked out of respect, there were few people who deserved the common courtesy. But barging into the Carrow’s home was a line that she wouldn’t cross so long as she was showing up uninvited. After all, Merlin knew what spell would whizz past her head should she choose to and she’d just gotten her hair done this morning. As the door opened she’d decided right then and there whichever of the two was on the other side was the one that she was bringing with her. In any other circumastance, she wouldn’t have left a decision up to chance but when it came to the twins there was never a poor decision when picking one or the other.
Skipping the niceties all together she’d elected to instead nod her head in the direction of the outside world behind her. “Come on and put some shoes on. I was tasked to pick a partner for a mission and it just so happens you’re looking more broody than normal.” Her smirk made it evident that the adventure would be a fun one.
@kxngcarrxw
“More broody than normal?” Amycus frowned at that, forcing a pout that held every ounce of mock gesture that he could manage, which, given the weight of his less than serious nature was a hefty amount. The heavy wooden door held still by a rough hand as he took in the near glowing state of his best friend. If there were ever one thing he could cherish and adore beyond the likes of his own sister, it was the woman that without a doubt lived in the twisted realms of his own mind as if hers were no better. “What kind of mission are we talking here? If it’s some bullshit recon, I’ll hard pass and send Aly down instead.”
Even still, he was already slipping his boots on and stepping towards the chill of the outside world, his arm quick to sling around Bella’s shoulder as the door closed with a deafening halt behind them. “Who’s day are we ruining this fine ass morning then?”
Arthur listened as the man processed what he had no doubt to believe to be shock from the reality of the attack. Everyone was on edge due to the chaos going on but that didn’t mean that they needed to lose their cools. “Moody is in the Auror department, it’s under rubble but I know that they’ve got crews working to clear the place and get the injured to Mungos. She could already be there now.” He tried to logic before knowing that it was likely falling on deaf ears, his family member was in trouble and that was his priority. “The Aurors are on level two. I can take you to Alastor’s office if you like.”
The longer the other seemed to linger, the more time Amycus had to piece together how he might make this work with another in tow. He could very well simply leave him for dead after putting a few floors between both them and the pedantic crowd; however, with little idea of the mans uses just yet, he’d certainly move forward with a pin tacked sharply in such an idea. “--- Under rubble?” He should have been an actor; right alongside Bella, the near ashen state of his features as the color in his cheeks faded was, astounding as feet carried him away from the man, in the direction opposite most people running. “If she were in mungo’s, she’d have kicked and screamed her whole way out of here. She’s still here, I know it.” The connection between twins; and even more so one of their caliber was unrivalled. “Please? Would you?” A possible hostage never truly hurt anyone.
She could have shot him a glare, she could have given a witty come-back but instead, she elected to give him nothing more than a snort. “I’ve actually never been called dull.” Rita spoke despite knowing that she was very much all work and no play. “I’m telling you that there’s no one I trust to cover it so I’m doing it.” Her head now turning to look at him for the first time, “And you’re telling me that there’s no one else that you’d rather be bothering right now?”
“Well clearly someone should have, but I’m all for taking the credit for this one.” Given, that Amycus didn’t truly care one way or another whether his words held insult or not; he had a certain knack for picking his words with a great many purposes, however, given the right circumstance, such self control wavered. “That certainly sounds like a you problem, either that or you’re far more vain than I’d have ever called you out on.” Amy shrugged lightly, a brow rising slowly at her curiosity. Casting amber hues around, he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and rocked to the heels of his feet. “A great many, actually --- but here I am.”
Evan should have been humiliated at himself- and somewhere amidst of the weird goings on inside of him, he knew that Naricssa would have been disgusted with such an open display of grief over an animal. Later he might be surprised that Amycus didn’t up and leave him to wallow in his own misery and incomptenence. Even as he was lifted he made little effort to fight it. Swooped away- how fucking poetic. Wasn’t he only just snickering to himself a week ago about how Amycus was some sort of knight in armor, showing up at all the right moments? This time he’d called on him, though. Openly and willingly asked for help- so perhaps it wasn’t so funny. He giggled to himself anyway.
“Dead? Nicholas Rosier dead? that would be a dream,” he mumbled, lifting his arms up and letting them fall back down without any notice to what Amycus was really doing. He felt a little better away from the scent of blood and the sight of Than. But not by much and he assumed- wouldn’t feel at his best for quite some time. “I thought he was. My mum said he was,” he took a deep breath in through his nose, held, and exhaled for an extended period of time. At least he’d stopped sobbing.
“The blood on the walls was him. It said…Daddy’s home.” a bitter snort followed that statement, and he moved to find the counter behind, touching the porcelain for some reassurance that this part hadn’t been altered as well. “Security? Of course I do. I have wards all over the grounds, I’ve had them up for years and no one has ever gotten past them. Because I am the only one that can apparate in and out of here.” But he rarely ever did, and perhaps it was time to re-up the magic, make sure it was still working. It had never failed him before. "Unless the spellwork got muddled…“
He rubbed his face viciously- completely unaware that he’d just spread even more pink across his cheeks and forehead than he’d realized had been on his hands. And with each passing inhale and exhale was forcing himself to go numb because it was better than feeling like he was on fire. “When you showed up at the shoot, I had just gotten back from the Black’s. Narcissa insisted I see the family tree and- it doesn’t matter…it doesn’t matter.”
That was certainly news to him, and already Evan had proved himself useful to the bigger cause, Amycus entirely certain that the Dark Lord might quite enjoy the idea of Nicholas Rosier still being alive. He wasn’t completely ignorant to the fact that he knew Evan was much too out of it to realize how stunningly intimate the quarters of his bathroom had suddenly become. Something that played even more to the amusement already lodged in his throat from the bloodied mess left behind in the wake of the man’s father. Unlike his sister, alarmingly open about the vicious nature of their ..hobbies. Amy had long since learnt to catch flies with honey well before he drowned them entirely in the stringent reminder that death was the endgame option, almost always by his own hand. “So you think she knew he wasn’t then?” It wouldn’t have shocked him; a mother trying to protect her son, the usual sob story that etched it’s way into the hearts of many.
Naivety showed all too easily within Evan; the belief that nobody could find their way past his security efforts, it was entirely obvious that there was so much he’d yet to learn. Perhaps he was a lost cause; a hapless option for recruitment. But even as the world around him unraveled, it became clear that perhaps he wouldn’t be forced to steer Evan in the right direction. “We’ll figure it out later.” He noted, brow furrowed as his thumb brushed a smear of blood from the line of his jaw. Once the shock had set in a little more --- anything spoken between now and later would likely be forgotten in the haze of everything, of that he had no doubt.
The brush of fingertips against the porcelain of Evan’s hips ghost like as he shifted just enough to tug at the man’s sweat pants, blood stains hidden only by the darkened fabric itself. “Their family tree?” He paused; Amycus was already well and truly close enough to Bellatrix to be able to damn near recite the Black family tree and despite being little more than aware of the truth of who Evan was so vibrantly connected to, playing dumb was a necessity at this point in time. Slowly, he crouched, his hands tapping the back of Evan’s knees gently just enough for the other to lift his feet from the floor as Amy undressed up, only pausing where he was to press gentle lips against the inside of his thigh, heavy breath slipping out across his leg in a passing moment of softness he might not have offered to anyone else.
“No --- come on, don’t do that,” Amber hues locked to those crystalline and misty in lieu of his tears as he stood to full height. Features softened yet again, almost beyond anything Amy had considered himself capable of in some years, the small dance of his fingers away from the softness of Evan’s skin only brief enough for the shower to run hot. “Talk to me.”
There was a moment of hesitation as he looked at here he’d been going and back at the man who was going the opposite way. Arthur was clearly weighing what he was going to do before a breath was let out and his head nodded. “Do you know what floor she was on? They’ve nearly got the Department of Mysteries cleared but the Auror department isn’t looking too good.” His feet now moving to try and be of some assistance.
“I don’t know.” He snapped, a little more effectively than he’d intended to as the facade of irritation and restlessness took over, an easy emotion to fake considering he was all but surrounded by it. “I don’.--- she said she was going to see a friend. Manny? Mookey? Alastor something..--” He pulled his hand over his face roughly, the sharp intake of air little more than a cover for a growing laugh. “She didn’t leave too long ago, I don’t even know if she made it up there. She could be fucking anywhere.”
The sharpened snap of the recoil on his own handgun barely cut through the edge of chaos around them, his wand remained tucked into his back pocket where he had no doubt it would remain for the time being. The rush of people around them as pieces of the Ministry foundations came crashing with each new explosion didn’t serve the same sense of panic within his chest as it so clearly did in the people within the ministry. It’d been little more than a recon mission; figure out how to get the Dark Lord in and out unnoticed, but nothing could have blossomed into a better opportunity than the hunters that stormed the building before them.
Stepping in against Alecto, the bare of his knuckles brushed the small of her back, “Nothing dramatic, remember?” A hard task for both of them --- their flair for chaos and dramatics usually went hand in hand with the echoing scream of those around them. “Not this time, in and out..We only need two auror’s if we’re gonna pull this off..--- both of them alive.” A stringent sense of disappointment filled him at the mere idea; but he knew the likelihood of that happening was.. slim.
Nostrils flared at the tone he gave and the words that he used, it was all too patronizing. But she also had expected it. Eyes rolled, shoulders shrugging as she glanced back at him with pursed lips. “The answer to that question is dependent on if you were successful or not.” While she would have wanted to be involved in the plans she supposed that a successful mission was all that mattered in the long run. A shake of the head as the smallest of smirks crept on to her face, “And when have you ever known me to pout?”
Hook, line, sinker, Bella’s reaction that flit across porcelain features nothing short of exactly what he’d expected and intended to rise out of her. It blossomed a hardy chuckle in the back of his throat, Amycus casting a near dramatic roll of his eyes in her direction. “I’m not even going to tell you how offended I am that you’d doubt Aly and I so much.” Cunning as some within their ranks were, the twins always held a certain.. flair for what they did --- failure was never much of an option for them. “Do you think I’d be standing here, entirely in tact if we weren’t successful?” The steel like edge of a softened gaze only shifting enough for humor to break through entirely, “I think there was that one time....---”
“Nope.” Her scoff was unable to be missed as she continued walking through the dirt with a clearly displeased look on her face. “I’m not here to play the games or ride the rides, I’m here to cover the Quidditch game. My sports reporter quit.” There was more than a hint of bitterness in her tone given that all she’d come for was the prospect of a funnel cake.
“You know,” he started slowly, finding himself keeping a quicker pace with her than he might usually have taken, something about her distaste more than amusing to him. “It’s all starting to make so much sense, all work --- it’s honestly so very alarming clear why you’re so dull most of the time, Rita.” Of course, he was merely poking fun --- he knew Rita held her own quirks. “You’re telling me you don’t have your ways around covering a damn quidditch match?”
