Starter for: Rodolphus Lestrange @xrodolphusxlestrangex
Where: their manor
When: late at night
Bellatrix would hardly wait for her husband, but she did note his absence. It was starkly apparent, considering that the lack of Rodolphus Lestrange left the place unnaturally silent and calm. Truth be told, it was also rather dull but such a thought was not worth considering and so she stuffed it from her mind and occupied the recess by planning her tasks for the next day. Though governed by severe instincts, she was nonetheless calculating and methodical. Her emotions may at times reel and consume, but when it mattered, her mind was as clear as crystal. So she sat in her study, her quill scratching incessantly at fresh parchment as she outlined what must be done, needing to see it with her eyes to fix the details into her memory completely. Loose raven hair swept down like a thickly lavish curtain, covering her arm and shielding her face and her work from the open room.
She felt her husband before she saw him. The magic shifted, his presence adjusting the impenetrable layers of enchantments they'd both worked into the walls. As though irritated by this interruption, her fingers twitched of their own accord, the jolting spell work sparking through her skin with an electricity that only his magic possessed. The wretched man, disturbing her solitude with his familiarity. After a pause in which she listened intently, noting his progress through the house, she resumed her work and made him wait before she turned, completing her sentence and rounding off her thoughts.
Taking her time, she draped an elbow over the back of her chair and crossed one leg over the other, swinging her ankle as she scanned him from head to toe. Since he was in one piece, his night must have been a good one. Not that he ever returned in a lamentable state. "You look well, husband." With a sly smile, she snatched up her wand and stabbed it towards a drinks' cabinet, summoning scotch and two glasses to float into the middle of the room. Then she stood and sauntered to grab them, barefooted and practically seething with the unshakeable want to know where he had been, assuming he had been out doing the Dark Lord's bidding all this time. Jealousy was an old friend. As was unhealthy competition and the stubborn desire not to satisfy him by merely asking. "Kind of you to join me at last." She poured the drinks and placed one into his hand. "I almost considered conversing with the elves. Or writing to your mother. The tragedy."
