Evan hadn’t heard much of anything since the attacks at King’s Cross; he sent his information to the dark lord promptly, informed his father the work was done timely and efficiently, and then… nothing. He remembered the night it happened with clarity, as well as the moment of unexpected and overwhelming confidence he had gotten wherein he refused to let himself feel betrayed on his elder’s behalf any longer, but the whole thing now felt terribly anticlimactic. The emotions he had felt crept on him in a moment of broken down weakness, and now when he looked at his father, he still felt the same sense of necessary obedience that he did before. Perhaps there was a little more defiance brewing in him now, and even a renewed sense of independence, but it had yet to amount to anything.
Yes, anticlimactic was the proper word for it. He scrunched his nose thoughtfully, letting out a weary sigh as his mind wandered. He wasn’t out and about running errands or doing work, so he was in the only other logical place Evan Rosier could ever be found; his study. His sanctuary. The only place he could feel at ease, it seemed, these days. With a cigarette dangling precariously from his lips and a half-empty glass of brandy to his left, he felt quite relaxed, and thankfully was able to ignore the buzz in his mind that there was something terribly odd and unnatural about the sheer quiet in the world after the chaos of the night the attacks happened. For now, anyways. The dark lord had to be up to something…
He lifted his head at the knock on his front door, echoing throughout his otherwise silent home eerily. His eyes narrowed suspiciously. Visitors were a rarity, given most people knew of his otherwise unsociable nature, but he rose silently and opened the door without fear; there was always his wand settled securely in his pocket, if it came to that. “Ah,” he commented quietly in recognition at the individual on his doorstep, stepping to the side to let his visitor inside. “To what do I owe a visit from you?”
With a cloak fastened about her shoulders, Cassia ventured from her family estate with a particular destination set within her mind. Today, the brunette had no errands to run for her father and so found herself without a purpose which appeared somewhat disheartening for the young woman. The brunette had no desire to waste her day away at home and soon she found an answer to her small predicament. It had been too long since she and Evan Rosier had met up with one another and so she wished to see how he faired. Of course that was not the full story for Cassia desired to learn more about the Dark Arts and who better than Evan was there to meet her demand. He knew more about the darker, macarbre, side of magic than anyone else she knew and his family owned one of the most extensive librarys known to man, or so it seemed. He definitely seemed to be the best candidate to quech her newfound thirst for knowledge.
As she made her way on foot along paved ground, Cassia figured her wish to learn more about such things had been prompted by the events at Kings Cross only a few weeks previously. It had sent shockwaves across the country, the supposed ‘tradgedy’ uttered on the lips of those in social circles both muggle and magical alike. It had confirmed previous whispers of the impending war and, to some, it signified the beginning of a conflict; those on both sides believing their cause to be just. War had never crossed the young Cassia Avery’s mind until recent occurences forced the brunette to contemplate what it meant to both herself and those around her. According to the position of her family, their loyalty and devotion to blood supremacy left her allegience unquestioned as Cassia mirrored the views of her predecessors without so much as a second thought. She must do her duty to her house and uphold the family name, or so her father had instructed. In reality, the brunette new nothing of what was to come and felt so unprepared it was unsettling. She knew that war was inevitable, and so perhaps if she was to learn more about the dark arts, it would not only settle her nerves but serve to greaten her power and chances of seeing it through until the very end.
Deep in thought, Cassia found herself at the gate of Evan’s residency; a grand estate with pruned hedges that stretched beyond the house itself. Exquisite flower beds conjured sweet, floral scents that followed her as she made her way towards the door. It’s wood was thick and imposing, with great iron hinges and the crest of house Rosier in the centre. For a moment, Cassia hesitated before rapping gently on the door as she suddenly realised that she had not given Evan any notice of her coming and thought that perhaps he may be indepsonsed or even not there at all. She rejected such thoughts with a shrug, figuring that she would just leave a message to whomever opened the door that she wished to see him.
“Evan,” Cassia greeted with a smile, “you look well.” Her tone light as she stood tall in the doorway as sunlight danced across her porcelain skin. “May I come in first?” She asked, a hint of mirth to her tone as she gestured towards the doorway and beyond where Evan stood. “I must say I have never been one to converse in such a manner, you never know who may be listening to our private conversation.” While not wholly serious, Cassia had no interest to stand, lingering in the doorway like a commoner as she divulged the intentions of her visits to Evan. Particularly when she required a certain degree of discretion from her former housemate and close friend. “Besides,” the brunette waved her hand dismissively, “must I have a reason for wanting to catch up with an old friend?” She offered Evan a smile, awaiting his invitation inside.
