Author Topic:  [monte carlo] luck be a lady. [tag; nathalie]  (Read 509 times)

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  • Offline Nathalie Wilkins
  • Re: [monte carlo] luck be a lady. [tag; nathalie]
    « Reply #15 on: July 09, 2018, 11:42:29 PM »
    Harvey was ranting. She had, finally, driven him crazy. That surely was it. She took as step backwards when he advanced; she wasn’t technically frightened of him, but he was in a strange emotional place that she had never seen him go before, and he was bigger and heavier than she was. If Harvey Landsdowne had a limit, perhaps a line brazenly marked “DO NOT CROSS” somewhere in his brain; well she was acutely aware that she had not only breeched it but rather stamped upon it. And yet a heady mixture of alcohol, post-spell adrenaline and primal fear had taken her to this new place; this new level with him. So he had seen this side of her; so what. He had to learn sometime.

    And still he spewed his complaints at her.

    Azkaban!?” she spat back in his face, and laughed mockingly in response. “Yes, tell them Harvey, go on. Drag me back to London and throw me upon the floor of the Ministry. I’ll take it, gladly. Because Harvey, they’ll only know if you tell them. So do it.” She held her hands before him derisively, as if awaiting his imaginary handcuffs. “Let’s see how moral you really are. I promise I won’t resist. Do it Harvey.”

    But he was on another rant; this time about torture. If only he knew. How once she had broken her duck with the unforgivables in fifth year, under the careful watch of the Carrows, it had been all too easy. You do it one time, it’s easier the next. Of course, Harvey would label it torture. He would have to romanticise it; make it be something more than what it truly was - motivation. A learning experience. A correction. And so she rolled her eyes, sickened at Harvey’s dramatics. “Oh please, Harvey, give it a rest. I know you love a bit of self-flagellation as much as the next goody-two-shoes, but really, I’m not in the mood for your self-indulgent crap tonight. Torture?!” and her voice changed to a cruel sneer, as if the word was the most obscene thing she had ever been exposed to. “Torture? Harvey, darling, you don’t know the meaning of the word.” She stepped towards him, and she was up against him now, almost daring a response from him. Her voice dropped, but her eyes flashed in the darkness. “But I can show you if you want. It would be my pleasure.” She paused, watching his face for any reaction. Harvey had overstepped his mark. So she would too. A moment in silence followed before she continued.

    “What I gave our dear friend up there was nothing more than a gift. A perfectly-wrapped little lesson for the future. I corrected him, Harvey. Like you would a misbehaving dog. A kick in the ribs to keep him on the straight and narrow. Nothing more or less. He will learn, and he will move on. As should you.” She was practically hissing at him. Would she have lost control had he not intervened, as he claimed? Would she have let him die? She had no clue. She did not really care. The point was worth it, in any case. He was nothing more than a muggle.

    “Did I feel anything?!” She gazed at him incredulously. With a feeling like a stone in her stomach, she realised at that very moment that she would lose this argument; all of a sudden she was struck that Harvey lived in another world. That he was a Gryffindor and nothing could save him from that terrible, ignoble fate. And her face changed; the anger dissipating slowly, her features softening, and she began to look upon him with a growing sadness. She could feel the distance now; could see it physically growing between them; a crack becoming a chasm; a fundamental fracture in how they both viewed the world, that no amount of papering over or passionate dalliances in the darkness could ever truly make up for. Harvey the noble knight; and Nathalie always his cruel charge. His deadweight.

    “Yes, I felt something Harvey,” she answered, now calm, now reserved, now somber. “I felt like a witch, Harvey.” And a register lower now. “I felt like a witch. Like how I truly am. Like how you should feel, too. Like there is something in your blood; something we share. Our true selves.”

    It was a waste of breath, and she turned away from him in her growing sorrow, just when he spoke of his disappointment. She put her arms around herself; the soft breeze coming off the sea now a little too fresh, but there was something more than the weather chilling her. Her damp flaxen hair caught in the gust and softly blew about her head. She stared at the horizon, where it vanished to the black sky and the little faded specks of stars that she could make out as her eyes adjusted to the dark on the beach. Harvey could not understand her; worse, he was let down, admonishing her like a parent. And as the adrenaline began to fade in her bloodstream, and the cold reality settled in its place, she felt a resigned melancholy. It had stung, even though it shamed her to admit it to herself, when he said he did not want to look at her. She felt ashamed; not at her actions, which would eternally be their difference and which she would gladly do again, but rather at what she had said to him. She wanted to take it back; to apologise, she felt as if she had lost her patience with someone too innocent; a child perhaps. Someone who did not understand the world and all it’s threats quite the way she did. She was a disappointment; to more than Harvey. But in his eyes, it was worse.

    She had scared him. That was his world, and this was hers. They were apart. It was clear now, and no matter how much it pained her, it was important not to repeat this. Not to tear him apart over this. He couldn’t take it. And she wasn’t sure she could take watching him fall apart over something she considered inconsequential.

    “Harvey, please, go home.” She spoke softly, it was a request rather than a command, and her voice betrayed her emotions, the well of sadness that he had exposed. “Go home, and find @Lorin Odell ."

    Shame was not an emotion Nathalie Wilkins was particularly used to.

  • Offline Harvey Landsdowne
    • ich bin ein gobshite.
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    Re: [monte carlo] luck be a lady. [tag; nathalie]
    « Reply #16 on: July 12, 2018, 06:52:03 PM »
    There she went again, insulting his intelligence. Harvey looked like a brute but he didn’t think he was stupid, careless or naïve. It was like he was the male version of the whole "dumb blonde" trope and it made him feel sick. Nathalie's words were like daggers, like little stings all over his body, like jabs and barbs. Individually, they weren't so bad because it wasn't like he hadn't heard them before but to have them laughed at  him so scornfully made him take a breath.

    He frowned as he let her make fun of him and he immediately felt foolish for even caring about her. Harvey decided not to respond to her comment about handcuffs as she left them outstretched between their bodies. He didn't really know what to say to her. It was rare that he was at a loss for words but she'd completely stunned him. He was unfamiliar with the curse but he'd just assumed there was some sort of Ministry-based claxon or alarm that was triggered when the spell was spoken. Apparently not and Nathalie would know.

    As she stepped closer and rounded his personal space, Harvey simply tilted his head up and back and looked out to the shore. Her bony shoulder bumped his chest and he swayed in response. He didn't need to look at her to figure out exactly where she was. The smell of her perfume or her hair and the crackle of anger that felt like electricity outlined her body. She was warm, too. He couldn't understand how someone so cold could look and feel so human.

    What she did was torture and he couldn't think of any other way to dress it up. Nathalie had decimated a man. She'd brought him to his knees, subjected him to pain worse than death and she was acting like it was all perfectly normal. He couldn't connect with her. He couldn't imagine feeling so much hatred for a human being that he'd ever feel the need to make someone beg for their life to end. To inflict so much agony so casually and without a second thought. To him, it was torture and he couldn't get past it.

    "No, thank you," Harvey said politely in a voice that was quite unlike his own. It sounded hoarse and rough and dry and a complete opposite to his usually honeyed tone. As he spoke, he flicked his eyes down to Nathalie's face and he had a moment of clarity. In her wild state, he felt so detached. Less than an hour ago, they were living it up in the casino. They'd been drinking and laughing and thinking about ripping each other clothes off. This was a first date and he'd wanted her to be his girlfriend but now?

    Nathalie's beauty had melted away in the Riviera sunset, almost like she'd been unmasked. Her pale skin was red and blotchy and her hair a tangled mess. She'd awarded him a glimpse of her underbelly and it was not pretty. As she spoke those foul words, her face twisted, showing him that beneath her cool exterior, she was nothing more than some sort of banshee. True colours, wasn't that the phrase? She'd gone from a sunset yellow to a midnight blue.

    Harvey flinched as Nathalie spoke about her victim so cruelly. "You can't correct people," he told her softly as he frowned again. "There isn't a reset button," he told her as he looked troubled. "Do you realise the damage you've done?" Harvey pressed her desperately in the setting sunlight as his large eyes scanned her face, as though trying to find some shed of humanity. "You could have permanently altered his personality. You could have caused damage with lasting effects. He might not be able to sleep or feel or function because you lost your head in a fit of rage. You could have left him a shell of a person. And you think that's okay?" Harvey asked her again as he set his jaw. There was a crease between his forehead and he tried, telepathically, to get her to understand the seriousness of her actions.

    A witch, she'd said and he offered her a brief smile. Magic or not, no one had the ability to act so callously. It felt like she thought it was her given right, simply because she could. Gently, he shook his head. "You and I are nothing alike," he began as he looked away. Nathalie was scrambling now. She was trying to push her ideals on him and it just wasn't working. They would never work. She said that earlier on; that they were different, that this would never work and she'd been right on the money. "That isn't me," he told Nathalie seriously. "I have never lied to you but you've been playing me like a bloody piano for months," he commented, his eyes wide. True colours, once again. "No," he mumbled. They were wizards and that was where their similarities ended.

    Silence crept into the cracks of their friendship as the temperature began to drop. Nathalie looked away and he took the opportunity to watch her profile. His heart hurt, he realised. He felt stupid and ashamed and hurt and guilty.

    Harvey had had a jolt. The rational part of his brain was telling him to relax. They weren't dating. They were never going to date but that didn't make up for the wounds caused by the realisation that she'd never cared for him at all. It didn't make up for the fact that he'd defended her to his friends and family or that he would drop everything when she was upset and she was crying crocodile tears. In a way, it was good that he found out now, he told himself. What if he fell in love with her? What if she continued to lie? What would have happened?

    Lorin? Harvey's head snapped back in her direction. "What's that supposed to mean?" He asked her, sounding terse. He hadn't really thought about Lorin for months. He assumed they were still friends but things had become strained during the Dome and then afterwards with the kiss and her desire to get as far as way from him as humanly possible. Harvey had tried so hard to patch things up with Lorin and none of it was actually his fault. She'd been ignoring him and he'd actually broken into her house because she'd been avoiding him so hard.

    Harvey shook his head again, looking absolutely flabbergasted at Nathalie's mention of one of his friends. "Unbelievable," he muttered as he ran his hands down his face. "You don't want me but no one else can want me either?" He blurted out incredulously as he boggled at her.