Starter for: Sirius Black @siriusbpadfoot Where: Diagon Alley When: very late at night
Rain fell in a bitter storm, smattering the cobblestones with puddles and lifting mud from their uneven surface. Bellatrix had been busy in Muggle London mere moments ago. Her presence at this unearthly hour was a portent to catastrophe, though at present nothing yet seemed amiss. Her activities would not be discovered for some time - and even then, she had left no trace to lead back to her. The silence was both a source of pride and a noose that strangled her with ever-increasing rage. She was not the type to keep her achievements under lock and key. She fulfilled whatever the Dark Lord desired, knowing that secrecy was a necessary and valuable asset. But the arrogant egocentricity in her wanted the world to know her capabilities. One day it would - with hellfire and brimstone.
As she stood reeling in adrenaline, she cared nothing for the droplets soaking her skin and her fine dress. It had not been a night for a mask or a robe, her task one that could be achieved using her true appearance. She exuded deceptively frail femininity, her frame slight yet curvaceous, brute force visible only in the cruelty of her expression and the sparks that flew errantly from her still-drawn wand.
Hearing a sound behind her, she turned slowly, not fearing whoever had joined her at this inopportune moment. But truly, she had not expected Sirius. Her stare widened, surprised, then sharply narrowed as she exhaled a breath she had not realised she'd been holding.
"Hello, cousin." Casting a charm above her head, the rain fell as though hitting an invisible umbrella, then with another swift movement she directed the weapon between his eyes. A fleeting glance searched his, drenched hair framing her face as she sought some glimmer of fear. Then she laughed slyly. "What are the chances of meeting here on a night like this?" Removing her aim, she dried herself with another charm then stepped closer, her wand now swinging loosely from her fingers, a saunter in her stride, as though she were walking the rooms of Lestrange Manor and not some dusty alley street.