Aug 22, 2017
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Live a Little Kill a Little|| June 16th ||Fenrir & Open
Fenrir had little more than distaste for the so-called gadgets that muggles toted constantly. The appearance of these things in the wizarding world only made him more resentful of the things. They were complicated and needy like a runt; unable to go more than a few days without some attention from an outlet. Certainly, they weren’t worth the weight they garnered in Fenrir’s pack which he carried everywhere.
Unfortunately, his current alliance with Riddle required the maintenance of a cell phone at the least. The self-proclaimed Dark Lord found it necessary to communicate through texts alone. No owls, no letters, rarely a call. Texts: the only method of communication in which a person needed to hit a button three times for one character. And then there was the bloody virus. When Fenrir had learned that the stupid phones could somehow get even weaker and, like all weak things, endanger their master, he threw the thing into the harbor, Dark Lord be damned.
So it was that Fenrir was faced with the unpleasant task of procuring another phone--he’d held a girl at knifepoint in a seedy bodega and made her ring it up for him--and obtaining the numbers of his various contacts in person. Again. He exited the shop with a quick lick to the girl’s frightened sweat on his blade, then continued making his way toward Diagon Alley. It wasn’t exactly the best place for him to be, and he much preferred Knockturn Alley, but it was a start when it came to finding wizards.
Fenrir didn’t have a wand--yet--to tap the bricks behind the Leaky Cauldron, but the Leaky Cauldron stupidly had a jar of floo powder that he used to enter the Alley. He popped out, covered with soot and babbling in a practiced slur, into a bookshop that had grown accustomed to the harmless bum that wandered through often after missing the floo for his nephew’s inn.
It didn’t take long for Fenrir to come across someone he needed. “Alright, pretty?” He whispered it behind their ear before dodging backward as they swiveled around. His teeth were bared in a grin whose humor was only for himself. “Been looking for you.”
He could have simply explained, of course. But he always did love to play with his food.
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