it's immortality, my darlings

FLORENCE A. KNIGHT CURSE BREAKER. DURMSTRANG ALUMNA. HALF-VAMPIRE.

[sanguisknight]

fawn:

The heat wave was unbearable, and  Fawn was taking shelter in the coolness of her store. She had her hair up in a bun and one of her summer dresses. She even made a large jar of lemonade with mint and loads of ice, just like the one she and David prepared during those unbearable summer days in the US. She was watering her plants when she noticed a woman taking shelter from the heat. 

She had been there for a while and she felt so bad for her that she poured a glass of lemonade and took it outside. “Hey…” she called her. “I noticed you’ve um… been there for a while. Here, have some” she offered her a glass. “Would you like to come inside for a while? it looks like you are suffering out here” she smiled slightly.

✦

It’s hard to startle Florence, thanks to the keen senses inherited from her father, but she’s not used to strangers approaching her. She’s been told before that she’s intimidating, but she’s always found it a little ridiculous given her penchant for playfulness and flirtation. Still, she’d not expected any of the nearby shopkeepers to come out and greet her. It’s a pleasant surprise, even if, with a quick glance at the little shopfront, it’s not the kind of place she’d usually gravitate towards.

“Do you offer every lost soul on your doorstep a drink, or am I a special case?” she responds with a grin, all teeth, and huffs out a laugh at the observation. That’s certainly one way of describing the discomfort she’s suffering from being directly out in the sun today. “But sure,” she continues, stepping forward to accept the offered glass, “since you’re offering.”

[sanguisknight]

It’s a lovely day in Diagon Alley, and Florence is in a horrible mood.

She hasn’t inherited the same aversion to sunlight as her father, but it’s always had an adverse effect on her even though she is able to go out in it. It prickles, intensely, like pins and needles that never fade. Normally, Florence is able to find some shade or a potion to keep the worst at bay – especially when her work takes her to so many bright, exotic places – but this little heatwave had caught her off guard.

Lurking under the tiny shadow of a shop’s awning, her head pounding, Florence wonders if it’s acceptable to just apparate home from where she stands. “I should have moved somewhere colder after all.”

[sanguisknight]

tilden​:

Tilden nodded, he didn’t really need a drink, and figured it might be a good idea to just spit it out. No point in dragging this out any longer than needed, he already felt like he was wasting her time with something so simple. Maybe she wouldn’t even be able to help him, but he figured it was worth a shot.

“Yeah, alright, the beginning.” Tilden nodded again, wondering just how far back he should go. “Well - My shop, it’s an apothecary, it’s been under attack for a few weeks now. Well, not really… Just petty crimes, a few thefts and some damaged property, nothing I wasn’t able to take care of on my own, at first I thought it was just random but now I’m not entirely sure.” Leaning forward slightly, Tilden pulled out the locket he’d received and placed it down on the table between them. “This was on the handle of my shop the other day. It’s clearly a locket, but I haven’t been able to get it open. I tried a couple simple spells to open it, tried to pry it with my hands and some tools, even let somebody with much more muscle than me try to open it and… nothing.” He pouted slightly before going on again, “I’m sure it’s sealed with some kind of magic that’s outside of my knowledge. I’m worried about what’s inside, but also hopelessly curious.”

Realizing he was ranting, Tilden slouched back into his seat, eyes fixed on the locket rather than on Florence. “I’m not sure if this is something you can help me with, but you were recommended by somebody I trust…”

✦

Florence listens attentively as Tilden speaks, trying to glean any information that might be relevant. His story is far from the strangest, or the smallest, case that she’s been contacted to consult on, and whether he thinks so or not, it’s an intriguing one. A locket that can’t be opened left at the scene of recent and repeated vandals? Her interest is definitely piqued.

She eyes the locket for a moment, contemplating what she’s been told, “and you have no idea who might be behind those things?” It’s far beyond her job description, or interest for that matter, to find the culprits, but if she has some idea of who might be behind this, then she might be able to narrow down exactly what spells, if any, are bound to it. In the meantime, there are a few basic things she can try. Tilden has, like he said, probably tried most of them, but Florence is nothing if not thorough when it comes to her work.

She pulls out her wand with a swish and a flick, levitating the locket into the air in front of her. She’s already seen Tilden handle it, so she’s not that concerned about it being harmful to touch, but the less interference the better. “Aparecium.” When no hidden words or messages appear, Florence hums thoughtfully, trying out a few more spells. When none of those bring any apparent change either, she lets it drift back to the table. “It’s probably best you weren’t able to open it. These things aren’t usually the nicest if they’re so well sealed. I can’t do much more here, but I have some probes at home that might work. If you don’t mind leaving it with me, I’d be happy to discuss taking the job.”

[sanguisknight]

marlene​:

“Just don’t sit at somebody else’s desk, yeah? Disrespectful.” She remembered when this office was filled to the brim. Things weren’t like that anymore. “I’m quite funny I am, can even do very realistic dog barks but that’s only for very close friends you see?” Marlene sized up the woman once the dark haired wanderer once more. “Are you going to go about your business then or do you like being watched?”

✦

Florence only hums in response. She hadn’t intended to stay long enough to sit, let alone at someone’s desk of all things, but now she almost wants to try it just to see the reaction it would get. “A witch of many talents then,” she replies, her smile equal parts amused and sardonic. “Are you asking personally or professionally? You might find the answer differs.” Without waiting for an answer, she continues on, “I’m actually supposed to meet one of your colleagues, so I can’t do anything until they arrive.”

[sanguisknight]

dirk​:

“Aww c’mon! It’s an interesting story and I’m gonna tell you anyway.” Dirk said, turning with a pure grin as the owner of the tea shop set down a small cup of green tea with a giggle, “Thank you!” he said brightly, “I come here a lot and sometimes I get treated to a green tea to match my hair.” Dirk explained, “Anyway! See, to Goblins the true owner of an item isn’t the one who purchased it, but the one who crafted it. And the descendants of the goblin who crafted an ancient cup of finest gold with emerald want it returned. The priest was supposed to do so but he refused and had himself buried with it; apparently he used it in a whole bunch of nasty ceremonies making it dangerous enough on its own but then he guarded his tomb with curses and even a few particularly unfriendly beasts.

“And one reason I mention all this is cause his symbol happened to be a cape with tendrils around the sides,” he wiggled his fingers some, “Based on my own research I think the guy might’ve been able to tame a Lethifold and for all we know it’s trapped in that tomb as well!”

“Come to think of it, maybe if there’s one there it might think the place it its home now too, when you look at it that way you kinda feel bad for these creatures, they’re only doing what comes naturally to’em after all.” he brightened some a her story though, “Really? So you didn’t have to kill it? That’s good!” She got whatever she was after and the creature lived another day!  

✦

The sigh leaves Florence before she can think to stop it. No matter how enthusiastically Dirk seems to be about explaining the situation, this is exactly the kind of petty, headache inducing goblin politics that she so hates. She can only imagine what it must be like for their contracted curse-breakers to deal with on a regular basis, and not for the first time is thankful for the freedom her choice to go freelance has given her.

“And goblins wonder why wizards hate them,” she comments idly, although the exception seems to be sitting right across from her. “They take because they think they’re owed something.” No doubt this cup is just another example of that, something that they’ll have her fetch from this man’s tomb only to lock away again in the belly of Gringotts forever, all because they believe its their right to possess it. “Who’s to say this priest isn’t the one who paid for its creation and rightfully owned it according to our laws?”

Florence shakes her head. It doesn’t matter how little she cares for goblins, they’ll never change. She’s grateful when the topic of conversation shifts away, invariably to the location of the cup itself–and what might lurk within. “A lethifold?” That’s certainly enough to pique her interest. Of all the things that Florence has faced in her career, that has never made the list. “Would he have needed a magic cup if he had the power to control one though?” Furthermore, if it had been shut in the tomb with its master, would it still be alive? Still, it’s better to have that kind of rumour to hand now. Better to prepare to face one and find the tomb empty than be blindsided. “Only in that case I didn’t have to, but I would have if I needed to. You can’t afford to be soft-hearted in my life of work.”

[sanguisknight]

@antonalog​

Not every job that Florence takes on sees her traveling to exotic places and plundering ancient tombs. Some of them – like the one she’s been taken on for today – are much closer to home, albeit no less risky. There’s no danger of being ambushed by mummies or chimeras, but it’s a job of dubious legality that would no doubt see her shipped away to Azkaban if discovered.

It’s a little before the arranged time when Florence arrives at the meeting point, an innocuous sidestreet just off of Diagon Alley. It’s not unusual for her. Despite how irreverent Florence tends to be in every other aspect of her life, she never plays around when it comes to her work. She isn’t waiting long before she spots Antonin, although she’s not about to let that slip when there’s so much fun to be had otherwise.

"Finally,” she grouses, heaving a sigh that’s far more dramatic than the situation truly calls for. She pushes herself away from where she’s been perched against a wall. “Didn’t anyone tell you it’s rude to keep a lady waiting?”

[sanguisknight]

@walden-macnair​

These days the war seems a distant thing for Florence, a moment in the past that doesn’t need thinking about anymore. She’d avoided getting tangled up in any of it, although not for lack of trying on the Dark Lord’s part. Whether because of the sympathy to their cause Durmstrang had fostered in her or her nature as a half-vampire, the Death Eaters had pursued her relentlessly to try and recruit her. When Voldemort was defeated, they all but vanished, and Florence never saw any of them again – until now.

She’s running some mundane errands when she sees him, and though his name escapes her, there’s no forgetting his face. Florence can’t help the scoff that slips out of her lips as she draws to a halt, lips pursed. “And here I thought I’d seen the last of you all.”

[sanguisknight]

marlene​:

“Oi,” She called out, “this office isn’t for you darling.” She still flashed a smile, almost professional. Usually, she didn’t care who popped into the back offices of the Auror’s department. She’d actually had good time with it in the past. But that face, it just reminded her of something - set something off in Marlene. “Unless you’re trying to apply, but I’ve been told that’s tricky, tricky.” @sanguisknight​

✦

The reprimand doesn’t much bother Florence, she’s never been one to care much for what’s allowed and what’s not. Besides — “I have business here, actually.” She takes her time to turn towards the stranger, returning their smile with one of her own; a small, crooked thing with a flash of teeth. “But you’re funny.” A pause, just long enough for Florence to flick her gaze up and down the other witch. “I didn’t realise they’d hired a little guard dog since I was here last.”

[kueyens]

why do birds suddenly appear every time you’re near ?

[hystericae-blog]

[sanguisknight]

lucius​:

Lucius & Open Malfoy Apothecary - Knockturn Alley

Lucius had no intention of properly opening the store for the day. There was absolutely no reason for visiting past having decided the weekend called for snagging a bottle of the wine his family had been producing for – the exact number was beyond him since he had tuned that part of his father’s speech but it wasn’t important past acknowledging the stock back at the manor had gotten low.

He had been about to head back home when the unmistakable bell on the entrance chimed. Lucius didn’t bother with hiding his annoyance, going as far as allowing an exasperated sigh to escape before he acknowledged the unwanted arrival.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” He drawled. “But the sign on the door should say closed.”

✦

Florence has never been one for healing magic. She knows the basics –  has to in her line of work – but it’s much easier to take a stash of potions with her on a job than remember the right charm to use. With new commissions on the horizon, it’s come time to stock up on that potion supply, which finds Florence slipping into the dark side streets of Knockturn Alley. She’s able to source more potent brews here, the sorts that the apothecaries and potioneers in Diagon dare not.

It’s easy enough to make her way to the Malfoy’s shop, even easier to slip inside despite the ℂ𝕃𝕆𝕊𝔼𝔻 sign hanging on the door after spotting movement inside. Florence hadn’t expected to see Lucius Malfoy of all people here when she’d stepped inside, but it should make for a much more interesting shopping experience.

“Now, now, darling. That’s no way to greet a paying customer,” Florence responds with a light laugh. “Besides, you know that won’t keep me out. I break into places for a living.”

[sanguisknight]

tilden​:

An uncomfortable laugh fell from him at her greeting, head shaking slightly as he took the seat opposite her. “Sorry, shy is just a personality trait.” Tilden admitted softly, hardly even looking at her. She was very pretty, not what he’d been expecting when he called for a curse breaker. But to be honest, he wasn’t really sure what he was expecting to see when he arrived. “Uh, did you want a coffee or something before we get to business?” He asked, unsure how meetings like this were supposed to go. Was he supposed to offer her a beverage? She was doing him a favour, and of course he was going to pay her very well for her time, he should offer her a coffee out of gratitude, right? “Sorry - I’ve never had an issue like this arise before, I’m not sure how to act.” He laughed softly again at his own ignorance, rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck. Hopefully she’d cut him some slack.

✦

Her smile remains as Tilden sits down, bolstered by his demeanor. How sweet, she muses, just a touch sardonically, as she continues to observe him for a moment longer, like a skittish little puffskein.

Florence laughs. “If a drink will stop you looking like you’re about to bolt back out the door, go ahead,” she answers, incapable of not teasing him. She’s met with all sorts of clients before, but they’re usually bold and brash or clinically efficient; this is an amusing change of pace. It’s certainly piqued her interest. Just what kind of job would someone like this need a curse breaker for?

“Or...” she continues, “you can just start at the beginning and tell me what your problem is. If I can’t help, I’ll just tell you so.” Not that there’s much she’d consider to be outside of her capabilities at this point. Florence had never been one for academics, but years of relying on her practical magic on the job have honed her skills to new heights. “Simple as that.”

[sanguisknight]

dirk​:

“Oh he’s not fussed about who knows or who doesn’t,” Dirk said with a grin, “See, this is something I’ve been helping him with for a while, but to understand it I guess you gotta know a little bit about Goblin culture,” Dirk said, tapping his chin in thought for a moment, before grinning and hurrying on.

“Do you know about the Goblin understanding of ownership?” he asked, since that’d be pretty key to the backstory of this upcoming quest. But, he was quickly distracted by mention of the three-headed snake.

“Wow!” he lent in, eyes wide, “How big was it? Did it try and bite you? Did it still have all its heads? I remember learning in school that apparently two heads sometimes bite the third one off.” Something about it being the mean one… He wasn’t sure; he’d always paid more attention to creatures he could communicate with than ones he couldn’t.       

✦

Florence quickly abandons the idea of pushing for more. She’s got no doubt the wizard sat opposite her would be easy enough to press for details, a little dirt maybe that she might store away for later, but Florence has no interest in digging for future leverage if that much goblin nonsense is that involved. If there’s one thing she’s keen to avoid, it’s getting tangled up in anything that might constitute goblin politics. The odd job is fine – Gringotts always pay lucratively for her services – but she’ll never cave to accept a permanent position with them. It’s just not worth the headache.

"No. Not really my job to know either,” Florence answers, simply and to the point. “The details don’t really matter to me,” she clarifies after a pause, “I don’t need them to do my job.” And given that she takes on numerous commissions for less than law-abiding clients, the general disinterest in her employers motives proves an unintended benefit.

Having finished skimming over the documents, Florence sets them aside for the time being. It seems like an easy enough job – for her, at least. no doubt they considered it high risk for their own curse breakers – and with all the details written down, it leaves her able to indulge in conversation for the time left of this meeting. “Of course it tried to bite me, I was breaking into the ruins it called home.” It had been a thrilling encounter, and Florence always delights in recalling it. “As it happens, stunning the left head tends to knock it off balance enough to slip by.”

[sanguisknight]

fenrir​:

DATE: may 25th, 1985 TIME: 11:00pm LOCATION: the white wyvern STATUS: open

It’s not very often Fenrir has the urge to leave the forest and his pack behind. Even the BEST fathers need some alone time, however. Especially when what they’re seeking is a nice, stiff drink.

He nods in greeting to the tattooist, working away on a client in obvious distress, and heads straight up the stairs to the pub on the second floor. It’s dimly-lit and mostly empty, only a few seats are taken and all the patrons present sit alone, nursing their own drinks in silence. Fenrir sits at the bar and   g r u n t s   out a greeting to the bartender, who motions to the wall beside the door as he polishes a glass.

          “You seen that?”

What he’s referring to is a WANTED poster with Fenrir’s face that some unsuspecting do-gooder has plastered in plain view of the whole bar. Fenrir barks out a cold laugh and rises, nearly knocking his stool over. With a snarl, he fluidly rips the poster from the wall and shreds it, leaving the scraps to litter the floor. It’s dirty enough as it is, anyway.

He’s garnered the attention of the few others in the bar, now. Eyes narrow and he shoots a wide GLARE out before taking his seat back at the bar.

“Firewhiskey.” It’s a command, not a question.

✦

Florence is no stranger to The White Wyvern. This isn’t the first time she’s stepped into the place for a drink, and it won’t be the last. The pawnbrokers just next door is one of her better clients, always looking to acquire something that demands her services, and the dingy little pub is a convenient place to stop off after her business is concluded. It’s hardly the nicest of establishments – and with what she tends to earn on each job, Florence can definitely afford somewhere better – but besides the convenience, it’s always just so much more interesting here than any of the pubs in Diagon proper. It provides exactly the sort of thrill Florence lives for. Who knows who’ll walk in next?

The commotion at the bar is hard to miss. Florence isn’t the only one whose attention is drawn, but she is the only one to approach the man responsible for it. She needed a refill on her drink anyway, so might as well top up and feed her curiosity at the same time. Florence settles herself on a barstool of her own a couple up from him, sliding her empty glass over for the barman to attend to eventually. “Shame,” she chimes in, “here I thought it was a flattering likeness.”

[sanguisknight]

dirk​:

Dirk’s in a pretty playful mood (which is his usual state of play) and wants to know a little more about the powerful cursebreaker, he’s only heard dribs and drabs from the goblins or other department members. “Florence! Call me Dirk then, most everyone else does, except the giants, they call me Moss-Head, but that’s a term of endearment really.” he explained with a laugh, “It miiiiiiight be.” his grin more jubilant than Florence’s smirk. Dirk pulls the parchment back a little bit and continues, “The Gringott’s head staffer sent me to out to meet you and he’s willing to dip into the coffers pretty well if I do say so, no idea what’s in this place but it must be pretty cool.” And boy did he wanna know what it was. He tipped his hand forward and passed the parchment over, “So what was the last place you went to  like?” he asked, “Have you ever had to fight a mummy? Oh! Or a banshee!”    

✦ 

Her client’s energy doesn’t seem to be diminishing any, but it could be worse; she’s met with people before so tight-lipped that it had been almost impossible to work out what exactly they wanted to hire her for. At least this way it seems easy enough to get any information, and perhaps to even push for a little more than usual.

“And yet he sent you to meet me, so it’s obviously not something he wants keeping secret.” Still, she’s intrigued. Gringotts don’t tend to reach out to her for just any old job when they already have in-house curse breakers, so just what’s different about this one? She accepts the parchment and begins to leaf through it.

“I was in Romania, it wasn’t very interesting,” she answers, only half paying attention as she skims over the lines of writing in front of her. “And no, but I did have to deal with a runespoor once.”

[sanguisknight]

remiel​:

“Oh,” Remi frowns, “that was not my intention. I’m sure you’re more than capable of rising to the challenge. I only mean I, myself, don’t want to be another vexation to you. There are so many other ways one can entertain themselves, don’t you think?” He responds in kind, following alongside her, easily matching the pace. He smooths a hand over his suit jacket, smiling planely at her accusation. He always remembers to smile, as much a defense mechanism as it is manners. “I suppose,” he answers, “I mean to say I’m a muggleborn and an artist and no artist was ever a gentleman until after his death. Not that I’m in any rush to meet my demise. What shall it be,” he motions, indicating the bar.

✦

“Relax, darling. I’m playing with you,” Florence replies with another laugh and a brief flash of teeth. His answers have seemed so earnest so far it almost doesn’t seem fair to keep teasing. It’s in her very nature to do so, but for now... Florence can give Remiel a little reprieve.  "You don’t need to be so stiff and proper, I promise I’ve dealt with worse than you.” She’s always had a thick skin, and it’ll take more than a little small talk to truly offend her.

The revelation of his heritage causes Florence to falter in his steps, just paces from the bar as she turns to look at him again, all thoughts of drinks forgotten for now. She never would have guessed. It leaves a bit of a sour taste in her mouth. Florence never directly joined the war – nor ever felt quite as strongly about blood purity as those who did – but Durmstrang did little to foster warm and accommodating feelings towards those from muggle lines.

 “A muggleborn... truly?”