August 26, 2019, 05:53:50 AM

Author Topic:  [slaughter hall] everybody gets a shot [eris]  (Read 152 times)

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Avery [ Death Eater ]
15 Posts  •  41  •  heterosexual  •  played by nan
[slaughter hall] everybody gets a shot [eris]
« on: June 12, 2019, 09:22:05 AM »
When he’d left for Australia (for Germany, for Italy, for Bulgaria, for Switzerland) he’d been smart enough not to waste his time on things he wouldn’t need; he’d only brought what he could fit in his hideous old trunk. Clothes and cigarettes and money, mostly. (He’d debated, for a bit, about his mask; in the end he’d taken it, and his father’s, as a spare. The Ministry would just have destroyed them.)

And, for four years, he hadn’t really gotten anything more. He’d spent the money, smoked the cigarettes, but he’d made and bought more. He’d bought a few short-sleeved shirts in Australia because it’d been absolutely disgusting there. He’d kept the newspapers from Germany and Bulgaria just for the headlines, that Britain was celebrating the fall of the Dark Lord, for no damn reason. He couldn’t read German or Bulgarian. All he could do was glower at Dumbledore’s little army and the Order of Phoenix, standing grimly in line at the rubble of Hogwarts— waste of his damn time, anyway. They’d been rolled into the corner of the trunk for years; maybe they were faded now. He didn’t care to check.

At least he wasn’t going to come off like a hypocrite to Rosier, he thought bitterly, as he packed his laundry up. Ranting about the Death Eaters who’d gotten to hide in their castles after the war, being tended to by their families, protected by their money— he’d look a complete fool if he turned up with riches galore. She already knew, of course, where he’d been shacking up— that was the only reason she’d extended the invitation.

This was a non-smoking room— in a Muggle establishment, so he’d set off their stupid electricity alarm at first, gotten fined a hundred Muggle pounds— which he hadn’t had— and Confunded the manager and sent him back away. Then he’d covered up the alarm. He’d be fined when he left too; he couldn’t remember the Charm to freshen a room and didn’t care. He’d be long gone by the time it was a problem.

That was what Rosier could find laughable, if nothing else— Death Eater reduced to a Muggles’ inn. But a Death Eater among the Aurors, that was about as unforgivable, wasn’t it? And, of course, his one trunk was laughable too— as he lugged his trunk up, gripped it firmly enough that he knew it’d come with him when he Apparated, and flicked his wand surreptitiously to undo the deadbolt, to knock the “Do Not Disturb” sign off the door handle, Avery imagined briefly what Mulciber or Yaxley would have said if they could see him.

Lots, probably.

He Apparated straight to her doorstep, dropped his trunk— careful not to let it fall onto his foot— and knocked twice, loudly as he dared. (Did she have an elf? She must, right? This was the sort of house that needed an elf.) The waiting, that was unbearable— he hoped she would share her alcohol. (She had some, right?)

@Eris Rosier
« Last Edit: June 12, 2019, 09:22:18 AM by Nan »

Eris Rosier [ Death Eater ]
99 Posts  •  37  •  played by Laura
Re: [slaughter hall] everybody gets a shot [eris]
« Reply #1 on: July 17, 2019, 10:46:11 AM »
This was probably a terrible idea, but then she’d been having a run of those lately, hadn’t she? She’d come to realise, following the evening at the O Sioda Manor, that she could no longer rely on anyone but herself. She’d known this all along, really, but it was clearer to her now than it ever had been before. There was, to her knowledge thus far, only one other person who had been in that room that she trusted – and she trusted him because of how far back their histories entwined. And because she knew he was terrified of her. He wasn’t a threat, she was. A much more palatable arrangement than the one she’d had with Gaius (not that she cared to compare them, in any way, thank you).

Eris couldn’t bring herself to leave Slaughter Hall, even if it felt ridiculous to have such a large house to herself; it wasn’t a sprawling estate like that which some of the true upper echelons of pureblood society called home, but it certainly was not pokey – any house that had multiple sitting rooms or a dining room able to fit twenty or so people was nothing less than a manor. The Rosier home, however, was in a sad state; Marcella Rosier had died only a couple of months ago, but she had been bedridden long before that – her refusal to go to St. Mungo’s (“where they let the mudbloods roam free”) had been the final nail in the coffin, quite literally. Eris hadn’t really mourned. She hadn’t been close to her mother – that tended to happen when one lived a double life and cut all ties with their family.

And so Slaughter Hall had become damp, and mould-ridden, and draughty. Eris had instructed their solitary elf to maintain the rooms they actually used and to not worry about the rest – they hadn’t the money to furnish the surplus rooms, let alone keep them clean and habitable. With Avery coming Eris had actually opened doors that hadn’t been opened in years – she wasn’t picking him the best room, but she was going to let him have the one with the least musty smell. Not out of any affection for him, mind you, but because she was proud and that was the only reason she hadn’t already sold the place. The reason she had kept up – publicly – the appearance of being a member of a still-grand family, with her well-made robes and fine taste in dining establishments.

The blonde witch ran her fingertip around the rim of her wine glass as she stared into the fireplace, the flames dancing in the reflection of her glazed-over eyes. What a life – how different would it have been, had she made any other decision than the one she had? How different could it still be?

Through the cavernous shell of the manor her ears picked up the sound of knocking on the door. Nobody knocked, nobody ever visited, so it could only be him. “Spawler!” Eris cried out in a harsh tone, and as she rose to her feet she saw the blurry shape scutter past the doorway towards the entrance to let her guest in. By the time she’d made her way to the door, the house elf had finally wrenched it open. She smoothed the front of her black gown and met his eyes. There was no smile, nor any other greeting – her expression was impassive. “Avery. Come in,”

“Take his things,” she said quietly to the elf, in a softer tone than might have been expected. “Follow me,” she spoke to Avery again now and led him to the sitting room – or, rather, the only one she used – her heels clacking on the hard wood floors. It wasn’t late, but it was already dark out thanks to the weather. Thick curtains covered every window and a fire was roaring in the grate. There were spaces on the walls were paintings had obviously once hung. The Auror gestured at the sofa opposite as she took her own seat in an emerald green winged armchair. “If I were feeling polite I would ask how you’ve been since Ireland, but I really don’t care.”

“For Merln’s sake relax, would you?” she snapped quietly, “If I was going to kill you I wouldn’t bring you here to do it.” She couldn’t really blame him for being on edge, but it was high time he grew a pair. She sighed and picked up the bottle of wine she’d been enjoying by herself (a cheap shiraz, he surely wouldn’t know any different), poured some into her own glass before placing it on the low table between them, pushing it towards him. “Spawler’s made up a room for you, you’re welcome to… decorate or clean it if it isn’t to your liking. Get some muggle ornaments if it will help you feel more at home.”

She was used to at least a little bit of small talk at the Ministry before getting to the crux of a conversation, but she didn’t feel it was entirely necessary with Avery. Then again, they hadn’t talked since… well, they hadn’t even talked then. “You look terrible,” she said plainly, giving him a piercing once-over. “Do you need clothes, too? Or do you wear denim now?”
« Last Edit: July 17, 2019, 09:07:17 PM by Laura »

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Avery [ Death Eater ]
15 Posts  •  41  •  heterosexual  •  played by nan
Re: [slaughter hall] everybody gets a shot [eris]
« Reply #2 on: July 26, 2019, 07:08:25 AM »
She hadn’t bothered to say hello to him, so he didn’t say it to her, just grunted impassively as she ordered her elf, almost gently, to take his things. “I thought that thing would be dead by now,” he remarked, half over his shoulder as it pointed one finger at his luggage to levitate it away. Their footsteps were impossibly loud in the cavernous hall— Avery couldn’t help peering curiously around. It’d been years since he’d been here, and it’d only decayed since. He took his seat in the sofa and did his best regal, languid slouch into the arm. It was supposed to be casual, but he couldn’t help some nervous leg jittering; he was almost grateful for her rudeness. That was more like it.

Not that it made him any less nervous.

She snapped at him to be less nervous, which also didn’t help; he shrugged. “Sure, I know,” he said, a little sarcastically. “Couldn’t bear to dirty up this place.” He raised his eyebrows and glanced around the sparsely furnished room, the bare walls. She pushed the bottle of wine toward him; he made a face— he’d wanted her to share her liquor, not her wine— but fished his wand out of his sleeve to conjure a glass and pour himself some.

Decorating, cleaning, that wasn’t his main concern at all. “Can I smoke in it?” He ignored the other comment, which he rather thought she’d expected him to do. She had to know that there wasn’t going to be any complaint he could make about this place. He’d lived in a hovel in comparison. A smoky one.

She had hated it; he added “Just the one room” and lifted his chin a bit, as an uncompromising compromise.

It was hard not to compare it to his own family home, while he was in her sitting room drinking her wine. Smoky hovel though it’d been, he’d liked it. He’d also had more furniture. The Averys hadn’t been anything special but, he comforted himself, they hadn’t had to sell all their paintings to get by. He wondered, what’d become of his house— probably it was rotting in Suffolk, spiders and rats taking over it. Somehow that made him feel better, picturing his house as some disgusting shrine to his father’s mistakes.

Ego somewhat restored, he sat up straighter on her sofa, leaned forward to put his wine down on the little table. He looked terrible, apparently; he gave her a humourless smile. “Yeah, I cut the hair,” he said. “Bitch to maintain, though.”

She wanted to know if he wanted clothes; he thought briefly of Eris Rosier, Auror buying robes for him and gave her a less humourless snort. “No. I got plenty. And no denim.” Now that he’d refused, though, he couldn’t think of what else to do, other than let it sit between them.

“War wasn’t too kind to you, either, I see,” he added with some derision, as though that would put them back on level ground. There was really nothing he could do for this situation, of course— she was letting him stay in his guest room, and she was keeping him out of Azkaban, and she was sharing her wine. He’d be indebted to her for his entire damn life at this rate. “How are the Aurors? Still chasing shadows?”
« Last Edit: July 26, 2019, 07:29:25 AM by Nan »


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