Swayed by Moonlight

Antonin Nikolajevich Dolohov [27] Death Eater Political Pawn Chaos Child of Nyx and Erebos

[russian-wintermoon-blog]

joneshxstia:

She hadn’t even noticed the cage filled with insect confectionaries, the fluttering sweet wings held behind the bars of sugar. As soon as her eyes eventually wandered over there, though, she couldn’t look away - it seemed like every time she made a trip to Honeyduke’s, there was something new to find, something else to discover. Hestia looked curiously on at the candy butterfly fly from the cage that it had been trapped in, before it landed and was trapped in the stranger’s fist, the intrigued smile that had been on her face fading slightly. “Oh,” she stammered, her eyes dropping to somewhere else. It wasn’t real, but the sentiment held something other than the whimsy and happiness that she had held when walking into the store. She nodded at the insistence that he was going to purchase something for his mother, words already getting jumbled in her mouth. “That - I’m sure she’d love it. If she likes butterflies, right? It’s the - the thought of it all, anyways?” she answered, her gaze falling down from his eyes to the stilled candy that was sitting on top of his palm. 

He lifted his eyes slowly from the delicate butterfly, piercing her gaze with his and pinning her in place. Slowly his lips grew into a handsome smile and he turned his hand around, seemingly inspecting the flawless work of the artist. The way she stammered he knew he affected her, though he didn’t know what direction it took. Negative? Positive? Although he always tried to make sure that people outside of the Death eater ranks were never uneasy around him. But it didn’t quite seem to be the biggest problem. “She sure does.” He hummed underneath his breath as he put the butterfly on the counter. “She’s never said she didn’t love anything. She’s the kind of woman that will leave you guessing.” And it was always a pain to pick the right things for her. At least outsiders didn’t stand a chance, if they couldn’t read her,

[lionheartmarlene]

seven deadly sins;; sixth circle of hell

E N V Y

“Do not overrate what you have received, nor envy others He who envies others does not achieve peace.” Buddha

@lcnewolfs @russian-wintermoon @floralxconfusion @msdorcasmeadowes @mvlcibers @joneshxstia

[russian-wintermoon-blog]

brokcndoll:

February 23rd, 1982 The Three Broomsticks 7:20pm

Andromeda didn’t know how to be pregnant. She didn’t know how to be a murderer. How does one handle life and death together and remain sane? Surely it was impossible. Such a feat was unimaginable, nothing she could accomplish and keep her head screwed on straight, and she was finding that with every day she remained both the carrier of a life and the decider of a death, she was spiraling further and further down into a place that she was far from being able to bring herself back up from. 

So what could she do?

She drank juice. She sat in the very back of The Three Broomsticks and she drank orange juice. Maybe she could make herself believe it was alcoholic… it wasn’t working. Because it was juice. Fucking orange juice. “Fuck,” Andromeda snapped.

He just came in and pulled off his gloves, when he heard a woman in the back snap at something. Interested he turned discreetly around to see who it was and when he recognized her he lifted a brow in question.

A woman who cursed in the middle of the Three Broomsticks. Not anything special by itself, but to see one former Black curse was a whole different story, everything considered. He knew her. Almost everything about her. He dared to say he knew almost as much about her as he did about the other two. And he worked with them. Amused he curled his lips, stepping over to her table.

“Andromeda,” he greeted, tipping an imaginary hat at her. “I’m surprised to hear such a crude word coming from such a nice mouth. What happened to you other than your own family?” Despite what he knew he’d always tried to remain a status quo with her. He’d never been openly hostile to her. He’d had no reason to be.

[russian-wintermoon-blog]

joneshxstia:

February 13th, 1982 Honeydukes, Hogsmeade [ o p e n ]

Picking up a handful of chocolate frogs, Hestia examined them for a moment before putting one back down. There was no such thing as too much candy in her world, but considering the questioning gazes she was getting from the clerk, she’d frowned and dropped another one. “They’re for my boyfriend, obviously,” she called out to the disapproving onlooker, furrowing her brows. Valentine’s Day was tomorrow, and in her world, that meant chocolates and flowers - even if she was the one buying them for herself. The flowers were already in her flat, which just left the one other part. She picked up another handful of sweets, before eying the person standing just a few steps away. “Those for a special someone?”

Antonin was going through the assorted sweets before him. He considered the butterfly candy for a second as the chocolate bodied creature flapped their delicate wings. So breakable. Thoughtfully he put his hands on his back as he bowed down to inspect a few gummy sneak hissing and writhing. A green one in particular. He was almost tempted to smile at the irony. Entirely lost in thought he plucked at the hem of his sleeve in sympathy. He knew that the sweets had no feelings but he was also sure that if they did they most definitely wanted out of the glass keg they were in. When he came up again he opened the cage with the chocolate and sugar butterflies and caught one in an open fist. It seemed to freeze instantly. “Hm,” he hummed in answer to the question before he turned around, a lazy smile on his lips. “Not directly. I considered to buy it for another party. My mother likes butterflies a lot. Even our house has a spell to...” But he didn’t finish the sentence. Instead he opened his hand a little, so he could see the frozen butterfly better. Outside of the cage it wasn’t too active it seemed.

[gerwulfalpha]

/w Antonin

who would be the one to randomly adopt a puppy withoutconsultation

DefinitelyAlastair and Antonin would be pissed not because he doesn’t like the dog (hedoes) but because how dare he notconsult him?!

who would force the other to take aesthetic pictures of them

Picturesare evidence and they both hate it. In total they’d have maybe one or twopictures together.

who would do stuff they think is stupid just to make theother one happy

I feel likethey’d be fairly comfortable with being as mundane as possible but maybesometimes they’d both go way over the top with being romantic as a form of aninside joke.

who picks out the horror movies to watch just so the otherwill cling to them

I thinkthey are equally into disgustingly graphical horror.

who is constantly studying and who is constantly trying todistract them

They studytogether and discuss books and passages, which is the only distraction they do.

who initiates the facetime calls whenever they’re separated

I don’t seethem them facetiming. They just send each other dubious short texts only thetwo of them can fully understand.

who is more likely to storm out after a fight and who ismore likely to cry when they do

Alastairdefinitely needs to get out of the house for a little bit but Antonin is nowherenear shaken up by it, let alone crying.

who stays up way too late binge-watching their favoriteshows

They’ve nointerest in shows and prefer to stay up talking instead.

who bites the other’s ear when they’re feeling frisky

Antonin asa form of some werewolf joke probably.

who sprays the other with water when they’re washing the car

Probablyneither as they just go to the carwash instead.

who has more fun decorating the house during holidays

Antonin ifhe feels like it although usually they end up with little to no decorations butaren’t bothered by it in the least.

who is more likely to give the silent treatment when they’remad at the other

Both wouldbut soon enough, they’d turn to talking it all out instead.

who plays with the others’ hair more

Neither. It’stoo affectionate for both of their tastes.

who is more likely to climb all over the other one whenthey’re bored

Again,neither as I see them more as the type to whisper seductive / filthy things inthe other’s ear, then walking away.

who tries to kiss the other as often as they can

Unless it’ssexual, they prefer not to.

who pouts when the other one tells them to shut the fuck up

Alastair isthe one who snaps and Antonin is the one who comes back at him with a smartassretort.

who initiates the sex and who walks away when the other isriled up

The little shitsthey are, both would.

who always forgets the umbrella and who holds it when theyactually have one

I thinkAntonin carries and operates the umbrella as Alastair just cannot be bothered.

who demands showering first in the mornings

It doesn’treally matter to them – whoever has more urgent business.

who sneaks into the shower with the other one in themornings

Both and it’ssomething of a daily ritual.

who prefers riding the roller coasters and who prefersplaying the games

They bothfeel out of place in an amusement park although the roller coaster is somewhat moreacceptable due to the thrill-factor.

who will text the other one thirty times in a row until theyrespond

They bothare way too proud to be so needy. If it’s urgent, they’d upfront text that itis and wait for the other to call instead.

who always forgets to charge their phone overnight

They areorganized people who rarely ever forget to do that.

who comes up behind the other and slide their hands intotheir back pockets

Absolutelyrandom but it happens often.

who tries to get hugs from the other as often as they can

They don’tlike such types of affection, really.

who is louder and who constantly has the tell the other tobe quiet

They areboth prim and proper gentlemen so there’s no need to be reminded to be quiet.

( @russian-wintermoon )

[russian-wintermoon-blog]

oscxrd:

Oscar scoffed a bit, certain that Antonin was just being humble. What he said next, though, made the mood darken a little bit, and he found himself looking back at the other man. “Does that mean you think the circus is here for a reason, then? Opposing the higher power,” He raised an eyebrow. That was a thought he hadn’t exactly entertained before, but it surprisingly did make a lot of sense. Higher power. “You don’t think the Ministry’s behind this, do you?” 

He wished he could say for certain that the Ministry wasn’t a part of this mysterious circus, but how could he know? All he was was someone’s secretary, though he was hoping to change that sooner rather than later. “Unless you know something that I don’t. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of our colleagues were behind this.” He certainly wouldn’t put it past the Death Eaters to use their money to organize something like this to distract the masses. 

Antonin lifted a brow. If the circus was part of a plan was only a question in his mind. A small piece in his overly active head being thought over constantly. Turned one way than the other and he felt a bit better sharing his concern. Even if it might turn out to be a wrong assumption in the end. “Oscar,” he said, slowly, melting the name on his tongue and trying to sooth the younger man. “I would like to say I know if it’s true or not. But I have my suspicions. It’s been like this for centuries. Ancient Rome used ‘bread an games’.” And a circus didn’t fall short of the same concept, did it?

Though would the Ministry be this clever? To calm the people with such an event? Though hadn’t they been as clueless as the rest of London’s wizarding community? Shaking his head slowly he bit down on his teeth. On the one hand it might be the Ministry, some of the higher ups could very well be so manipulative and on the other hand were the Death Eaters. He too wouldn’t put it past the richer families to string something like this together. But...

“It’s not their way of doing things. It’s too uncontrollable. A circus mean chaos. Most of our kind would hate to use such a magically unhealthy environment.” Since there were a few extraordinary animals and people involved who had and who had no magic. Antonin shook his head. “No I’m not quite sure they wouldn’t but I think we can rule them out. Those who would have had the power to do so would probably be unwilling.” And something in his eyes was turning to glaciers. Of course the Death Eaters used the things that were convenient, but they were also blind for the greater talents of useful people who might not fit into the views of their idealism.

[gerwulfalpha]

[Near The Ministry]

[russian-wintermoon-blog]

gerwulfalpha:

A smirk tugged just slightly, barely enough to be seen, at the werewolf’s lips at the muttered words.  Naturally, Mr. Doholov, naturally, he thought to himself. Fifty years were a long while, definitely long enough to learn this dance of manipulation to the point one could play it by ear even if they knew next to nothing about their opponent. Or was it partner? Now that would depend to the kind of dance this would turn out to be, wouldn’t it? So far… so far all was well but from experience, Alastair knew his partners tended to slip at the most inconvenient of times. Honestly, he couldn’t even be blamed for the early demise of the majority of them with their tendency to have the worst possible timing when it came to slip-ups. Which was why he didn’t keep many partners around for long, frankly, apart from the betas of his pack but it took a very special kind of person indeed to keep up with him, something he couldn’t tell as fast as a conversation.

Yet once again he found himself pleasantly surprised by the young man across the table. The nod, the lowering of his eyes – he had realized the werewolf was one too many moves ahead in this little game of theirs yet he had come to terms with it. Not submitted, accepted it. The threat, covered by exquisite wording, of course, was proof enough for it. “Depends on who you’re losing”, the wolf replied with a smirk, his tone impassive. All people were replaceable, he had figured that one many years ago, yet some were quite harder to replace than others. The trick was to become the latter and his opponent, despite the disadvantages of his youth, was headed this way currently. “There are losses and losses, Mr. Doholov.” It was an elaborate meaning, that stress on a single word as if he was tasting it on his pallet like wine, savoring it for a moment before letting out in the open. It was equal parts a praise and a warning as well; a warning that if he didn’t slow down, if he didn’t plan his moves meticulously, this game could be turned upside-down in the blink of an eye. Had he been more of an honest man, Alastair would’ve been upfront in that aspect but he was no such man.

As for the small smile, well, there needed to be at least some element of confusion for the German as well, no? It was only fair even if placing it would be his occupation in another of their conversations. Because there would be another one.

“Well…”, he paused, taking a sip of his coffee as his gaze slid casually up and down the building of the Ministry, a slight misleading hint on what they could potentially speak about. But they couldn’t. Alastair was a beast, not an idiot. He knew better than to tread into dangerous waters in public places. “… we could speak of the beautiful town of London, wouldn’t you agree? As a foreigner, I am always on the look for new recommended places to pay a visit to.” It was a test, a pretty obvious one at that, just like he had intended it to be. Because if this man expected reassurance that he had not intruded, that he was not boring Alastair, he was very clearly seated at the wrong table. The werewolf was not in the habit of stating the obvious, after all – too plain, too boring. That and he was fairly certain Mr. Doholov didn’t really have any urgent need of a boost of confidence.

Slow down. He could do that. He understood the warning sign waving from underneath those carefully woven layers. “I do understand the difference,” he answered lightly. A quick twitch of the right corner of his lips. Losses.. “I hope you’re here for the contrary. Despite the losses, what we’re all trying to do in these darkest of days is to find and gain people we can trust.” Though he pronounced the word ‘trust’ heavier than the others, because it wasn’t exactly trust he meant. Or rather, he meant the kind of trust one of their caliber was able to put in others. Don’t believe your allies. They turned on you much faster these days. Believe your friends and you might lose your life. Sometimes Antonin was sure that England slowly began to turn into a second Russia. No one to trust, no one to call family. Because that was the only thing you could bet your life on. Family didn’t betray you, but held together. Like a group of fish, trying to protect themselves against the attacks of sharks. It was the only effective method to choose.

The most important question for him wasn’t if he could talk Alastair into joining this war - he clearly was about to be involved, if he wasn’t already - but rather where he would take his place. Let the king choose his alignment by watching the board. Antonin was sure the man did have his own position quite secured. Maybe he would have to keep a close eye on him instead. Keep as close to the unknown to get to know it. Yes, he might as well try that course of action. It would surely lead to a better understanding and wouldn’t endanger him as much as if he decided to jump into the fire, alcohol and oil in hand and let himself get burned into a nice little crisp.

Antonin leaned on the table, his fingers curling in on themselves. He followed Alastair’s gaze. The Ministry. As he lowered his gaze again he blinked against the sun. “London is beautiful even in this conflict, though I have to admit I’m surprised that you even bothered to come here, seeing as there’s a war brewing.” A volcano already spitting lava and burning everything it touched. Yes, losses everywhere. “I believe that most people are running from problematic situations like these, when they are smart.” Though he didn’t question if his conversation partner was smart or not. But he still tried to understand his reasoning. Why did someone who knew that he just had to wait and sit back, to watch all parties involved fall down? Was he the snake waiting to bite the winner?

Antonin shrugged his shoulders, though his blue eyes twinkled in that manner that seemed to say nothing, but was full of promises if one dared to look deeper than the first level. “There are a few places I’d recommend and I’d be honored to show them to you.” He smiled. “My home is a bit further away, but if you ever like to join me for a drink, my doors will be open to you. I’m sure we could talk about the sights you’ve already seen and I might be able to help with any confusion.” Antonin nodded his head, all friendly manners. 

[russian-wintermoon-blog]

[xoxogossiprita]

There was a strange glow in the tent that seemed to be coming from the mirror itself, making everything look paler. She almost looked like a ghost herself as she stared at her reflection, thinking of all the people she knew who had died and wondering if she had ever cared for any of them. Apparently not.

Antonin, however, looked… well, strange. His expression had been as blank as hers, but it morphed suddenly, becoming almost confused. Rita decided to pay him a modicum of privacy for a second or two, stepping forward to inspect the mirror more closely. Her fingertips ran over the rough wood frame, tracing carvings that the dim light forbade her from seeing. Gilt glinted in places, as though worn away by other clumsy fingers doing exactly what she was doing now. Then, bravery - or foolishly, depending on how you looked at it - she reached to touch the glass, hesitating before running a finger delicately over its surface.

Almost instantly she pulled away, hissing in pain. The glass, if that’s what it truly was, had been colder than ice, so much so that the pad of her finger felt as though it were burning. Clenching her hand into a fist, she turned away, and back to Antonin, who she was sure would have pulled himself together by now. “Bloody cold,” she muttered darkly, resuming her place at his side. There was a beat of silence where Rita wrestled with her curiosity, but she had learned very early on that that particular battle was one she would always lose. “Did you see something? You looked as though something had happened.”

Everything seemed to come to a hold and the feeling didn’t disappear. He almost reached out to pull Rita away from the mirror, but he couldn’t. Something warned him to not take that final step closer to that damned mirror. It called, it pushed and it ran him down like a freight train. His soul was hissing and spitting like a cat, curling in on itself as he watched on as Skeeter touched the cursed glass.

Antonin couldn’t say he didn’t expect what happened next, but he didn’t feel reassured as her shoulders tensed with pain. Hurt? “Cold?” Slowly he raised one eyebrow, looking down on her, while discreetly checking if she was alright. He wasn’t the caring type by far. Not even with her, although he knew her for quite some time now. Still... Narrowing his eyes he sighed. Maybe he cared a little!? But he didn’t want to show it, nobody ever let this much out into the open. It was better if she didn’t get the wrong idea, so when she turned back at him there was only disinterest in every fiber of his being. Composed and neutral. She saw what she needed and the only exception for him was, that he still felt those hands around his neck, while his lips twitched in a barely-there smile.

“No,” he answered, paying the mirror no heed, while he waited for the feeling of those hands to leave him. He even suppressed the need to grab for his neck and rub the skin to chase it away. Instead he looked into Rita’s eyes, his gaze flicking over every little detail, before he began to turn. “I didn’t see anything. I think it’s time to leave by the way. What good will a mirror made of ice ever be? It’s nothing to write home about,” his smile turned ironic before it left his face completely. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

[quotemadness]

Always be a poet, even in prose.

Charles Baudelaire (via quotemadness)

[russian-wintermoon-blog]

PARENTS: Are you proud of your son?

“Of course. He my son, he learned everything in small time. I could not be prouder of him. He knows what’s important and he follows the rules. I know he will be able to make his own path. He’s a Dolohov.” She almost sighs when she feels her husband chuckling at her side and looks at him with her stern look.

Vasilij takes her hand and kisses the back of it, making her lips twitch treacherously. When he speaks his English is almost perfect. “I agree with Jelena, he knows the price we pay to live and survive in this world. He’s learned a lot from us and my wife has taught him well. He’s making us proud. The political affairs in England aren’t of our concern, but we know that he’s invoved in the struggle and hopefully keeps his neck out of the noose.”

Jelena angrily pushes her elbow into his side, but her husband grins at her. “He not failing.” Vasilij brushes his hand over her cheek. “Конечно нет. Моя любовь.”(Of course not. My Love.) She smiles barely and snorts. “Ты идиот.” (You’re an idiot.)

[russian-wintermoon-blog]

MOTHER: Don't you think it's time your son settled down? What do you expect your daughter in law to be like?

“Oh, is definitely time for Antonin to settle down. He not getting younger. Though there’s plenty women made for world of aristocracy... I fear not many made to be his wife.” She turns her chin up, smiling coldly. “Ya see, I’m his mother, I want daughter in law and for him to have child, but she also needing to be able to fight. I will not approve weak daughter in law. She not fit to protect the family? Then no. She able to be part of family? These questions very important. Will also not accept woman who cheats, who can’t take care of Antonin and who can’t stand her ground against me or my husband. Vasilij agreeing with me on this.”

Send “Mother” & a question and my muse’s mom will answer it

[russian-wintermoon-blog]

millicentbagncld:

It was moments like this that left Millicent questioning why she didn’t bother closing her doors to keep out the rest of the public. As much as she enjoyed giving off the impression that she was always working, because nothing created a formidable reputation better than solid proof - it was days like this when she found herself bothered with matters of little importance that gave her second thoughts on it. “Good morning, Antonin,” she answered at his quip of a comment. “You’ll have to excuse me, I’m busy this morning, but - nevertheless. What can I do for you?” Feigning a welcoming smile to him, she motioned to the chair opposite from her desk in case he wanted to sit down. Despite her own annoyance, it was better to come across as polite. Or at least fake it.

As he continued to speak, her lips downturned into a frown, furrowing her brows as she ruminated over what he was asking. “So, let me just make sure I’m following you,” she started, even though she had already grasped exactly what Dolohov was asking from her. The real question was how in the world he thought he could’ve thought coming in with a story like that would’ve worked. This was what drove Millicent mad, and somehow pushed her further in the same breath. People who believed she would be a pushover simply because of who she was or how she looked - or above all, because she was a woman. “What you’re asking me is to put our department’s curse breakers - my curse breakers - in danger of an unknown yet proven fatal curse, simply so that you can put another antique on your shelves? Is that what I’m getting from this?” she posed, sitting back in her chair, crossing her legs at the knees before knitting her fingers in her lap and offering Antonin a complacent smile. The smile slipped off her face as she exhaled slowly, pursing her lips. “As much as I’d like to lend one of them to you, I’m afraid I don’t see the necessity of doing so. This artifact is of no use to the Ministry, it offers no benefit to helping to us in our cause, and the curse breakers are already swamped with work as it is. Unless you can prove to me that this isn’t the case, the answer is no.”

He’d taken his seat during his little speech and when he turned to her, story finished, he’d expected her to say no from the get-go. There was that distinct notion of ‘no’ all over her. Her tired look, the way she motioned slowly and deliberately back in her chair, making as if she thought his offer over - it all was a clear indication that she rather wished for him to be somewhere else than in her office at this time of day. Better yet: Never having appeared in the first place. But Antonin knew that any time he’d have come to her would have been bad timing and so he wasn’t perturbed by her. He let her be, let her say it all with her eyes boring through his, telling him a story of how much she hated to deal with his small and - in her eyes - unimportant problem.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Millicent, I’m not asking you to put anyone in danger. You see, I’m trying to save people the bother of needing to go and find an undertaker because of said object. That’s why I purchased it, to take it off the market.” Well, it was almost true. Though which of his words were true and which a lie he’d made too hard to figure out. “Your curse breakers are already warned and trained. I’d hate for you to loose someone. I’m just requesting someone who identifies the curse woven into the object, they don’t need to break it.” He shrugged his shoulders lightly. “But if you’re saying that it’s not of interest to save future innocent buyers the trouble of getting killed when I’m officially trying to invoke a experts opinion on it...” Carefully he cocked his head to the side and sighed sadly. “I guess it can’t be helped. Although I was told that the object has the some magical abilities as some of what you’ve stored underneath the Ministry.”

Slowly Antonin looked back at her, his blue eyes flashing with his ever present amusement. They were softening into submission as he accepted her words. “It could have helped to find out. Maybe even discover it’s real potential. But I understand that you have a lot to do and that a maybe wouldn’t be enough for you. That a chance to help would be bound to too much trouble. Who knows, it might have helped against those groups of wizards you’ve your hands full of trying to hold back.”

[quotemadness]

I guess being needed is almost as good as being loved. Maybe better.

Betty Smith (via quotemadness)

[quotemadness]

I don’t like being asked the same thing twice. I like people to understand at the first word. Some things can’t be explained.

Fyodor Dostoyevsky (via quotemadness)

[russian-wintermoon-blog]

millicentbagncld:

The Ministry of Magic Office of the Department of International Magical Cooperation February 10th, 1982

She’d been cooped up in her corner office all morning, having to read over the paperwork sent from the latest meeting with Spain’s government presiding over their wizarding world, when she heard the knock at the door. It was wide open, though - something she’d always done. Better to show off that she was always working. She let the paper fall onto her desk, before sighing.  “Any questions regarding the Minister’s failing health and/or the potential replacement to the position need to be sent directly to his office. I cannot offer any other information, as I only -” She trailed off, finally looking up and seeing that it wasn’t a pesky news reporter from the Prophet like before, just as she had expected, causing her to exhale. A relief, and yet somehow - a slight disappointment. 

The forced smile disintegrated from her face as she turned back to what she was doing. “Oh. It’s you,” she stated simply, not bothering to hide the change in her tone of voice, slipping from her usual perfectly polished facade into one of flat boredom. She gave a quick glance up once from her briefing, before turning her attention back to it, scribbling some quick notes in the corner, knowing that the visitor in the doorway wasn’t going to disappear no matter how much she might’ve liked them to. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” she asked eventually, still not bothering to give them her full attention. Maybe if she kept it up, they’d get the hint and move along.

Antonin didn’t have any other reason to be in the offices of the Ministry other than trying to fish for some information,  though today was different. He was looking around in the way that he kept his eyes open (and ears), but he was still here on a personal level. Something like fun and giggles... at least other people would describe that notion of randomness like this. Maybe he just wanted to mess with Miss Bagnold, though he was showing nothing less than a sincere face all the time. So when he saw her door was standing open he couldn’t resist but knock. His knuckles rapped on the hard wood as he watched her pouring over documents. She didn’t even look up from what she was doing and just rattled off a speech that was surely practiced by the amount of times she had repeated it already.

With an amused smile he leaned against the frame of the door, letting her continue until she finally met his eyes. “’Oh’ indeed,” he answered, chuckling. “I didn’t even ask and you assume...” He stopped when she began to turn her head away, returning to her work. So she wasn’t really interested in what he had to say. No hard feelings, he was here on other business than tryong to get to know how the Minister was fairing or who would be his replacement. He already knew the gossip, had his hands on the grapevine and wasn’t in need of asking her such petty little questions. Instead he opted to offer his real reason for coming to her office. “I was just strolling by, in search for some help. I wanted to ask for assistance with an artifact I have had the pleasure of purchasing, but I fear there’s been talk of an anchient curse that needs to be lifted. Rumor is that it’s already cost some owner’s their lives. I wanted to request one of your curse-breakers to look at it, before I put it into my collection. I don’t believe that the object is dangerous, but I’d love to have a second opinion.”

[freshprincesubs]