I Write Sins

Antonin Dolohov 46 || Death Eater " Devil’s gonna follow me everywhere I go. "

[auroraxsinistra]

Who was that package for?

[mister-dolohov]

Shoo, child. Stop playing with things you don't understand.

[auroraxsinistra]

Maybe because you know what I am. I don’t know? You tell me.

[mister-dolohov]

You are a child. I care why?

[auroraxsinistra]

Y-you’re the man that cursed me.

[mister-dolohov]

And why would I care to curse you?

[mister-dolohov]

What? Spit it out.

[mister-dolohov]

What was that?

[knittedfire]

[Outside Madam Puddifoot’s Minerva says her goodbyes to an older gentlemen, the usually stoic professor almost uncharacteristically smiling, and even laughing, as they part ways. Distracted, as she turns away, she almost collides directly into the person stood behind her]

Oh. Afternoon. 

[mister-dolohov]

*He grunts and brushes by her as she greets the person she's talking to, forcefully knocking his shoulder into hers as he does* 

[last-best-lieutenant-blog]

[hisses] Do I have to remind you that we don’t have masks? And they call me rash. 

[mister-dolohov]

And you keep barking when you can be quiet and walk away.

[auroraxsinistra]

You aren’t serious— are you? What am I going to do with this?

[mister-dolohov]

Have fun, kid.

[auroraxsinistra]

Yes, I touched it— directly, without a cloth. You were in a hurry, sir. Is there a problem?

[mister-dolohov]

Right, well, you can keep it. Enjoy, kid.

[last-best-lieutenant-blog]

[She continues walking, though she rolls her eyes and makes a ‘tsk’ noise.] Oh be more obvious, please. Idiot. 

[mister-dolohov]

Fuck off, Lestrange.

[auroraxsinistra]

*picks up a package dropped by a stranger and runs it back over to him* Excuse me— sir? You dropped this.

[mister-dolohov]

*He pauses and eyes her critically for a moment, then moves to take it before he pauses, hand in the air still* Did you touch it? Directly, without cloth?

[mister-dolohov]

*drops a package as he walks by would your chara love to pick it up look at me being great at this rping thing*

[insxnumcresta]

What a terrible mood you seem to be in Antonin, you realise that I do not and would not need anything from you either way. This meeting was one of coincidence.

[mister-dolohov]

Then walk around me and move on. You can do that, I hope. 

[ruinedbyships]

[knittedfire]

Friday night?

[mister-dolohov]

You'll see. *He left it at that, though, and turned to go*

[knittedfire]

[Minerva refused to rise, though her increasing frustration was evident, and she kept a wary eye on the wand, whilst reaffirming the grip on her own] I very much doubt it 

[mister-dolohov]

I can show you. Friday night is dedicated to you.

[knittedfire]

That would require good sense; something you greatly lack, Dolohov.

[mister-dolohov]

I have much better than sense. *He showed off his wand*