you chip away the old version of you

[inkdamage]

Who: Severus Snape (tiny) and Lucius Malfoy (not tiny).
What: Eating death, basically.
Where: ?
When: Nowish.
Warnings: Premeditated murder; violence both physical and magical, mind control/violation interrogation tactics, references to assault, explicit torture.

If there was ever a time to want to wish for company - or for backup - it would have been weeks ago, when he set his odds against Bellatrix. Now, with the element of surprise and all the time and magic in the world against a handful of unpredictable but certainly mundane targets, he's got the upper hand by miles. But sometimes he's just dying to learn the hard way.

On the patio of a rustic, wooden diner, lurking in the dim light that does little to combat the night, Severus sends out a text.

Someone has been burning witches.

It's a little funny, he thinks, how adept he's gotten at using this thing; he was always the one who could sort through whatever simple Muggle artifacts hampered his acquaintances, causing in them both wonder and suspicion. Even though this sort of technology is decades off for him still, he's taken to it with ease - just as he does with magic. A bitter thought. Truly a child of both worlds.

Comments

[amourpropre]

Either way, the men that injured the young witch are dead. Lucius is hesitant to offer more, wary of the glimmer of further investigation, but can't help but suggest; "If you make these documents a portkey, you could go fishing, as it were. Providing that anyone who knows where and how to look might attempt it, of course.

"That depends on your interest in loose ends, I suppose. Your friend can rest easily," a loose and sarcastic gesture about the place, "as things currently stand."

[inkdamage]

That's a fantastic idea, and Severus raises an eyebrow, appreciative of the suggestion, and intrigued at the potential. Instead of voicing this - "Are you accusing me of having friends?"

A flick of his wand and the documents float over to him so that he can inspect them without touching, and duplicate anything (potentially everything) he finds to be noteworthy. The portkey spell would be easy enough, but it's the end location that requires further thought. Surely, a secured location, one devoid of sinister shark pits or sharks with lasers, but something less than comforting, too. (Those details can come later.)

Almost absently: "What an infuriating example this place must set."

Everyone living together sickeningly peacefully. (Compared to wizarding Britain.) Handling this without living in a guerrilla combat unit. Existing openly, the integration of culture. How dare they all, etc and so on.

[amourpropre]

He glances towards the drifting documents and takes that as confirmation, the corner of his mouth upturning at mention of accusation. "Client," he self-corrects, delicately, and with only so much conviction. Lucius occupies his attention to taking the magical medallion he had pocketed that had so neatly defied the stunning spells, turning it over in his hand with curious fingers.

"Cooperation occurs on any level," he adds, wand flicking and another similar amulet rises from one of the corpses on the ground. "When it suits."

[inkdamage]

Curious, the sacrifices they make, magic to circumvent magic. But then- they all know the symptoms of sycophantic belief. The men in this room. The ones who await them, somewhere.

"What people can tailor themselves to has interested me more and more, of late."

[amourpropre]

"Quite."

Clipped, reserved, removed. What Lucius himself can tailor himself to has been a thing he's avoided thinking about in depth, and he will give the same careless lack of thought with regard to how comfortable he feels right here. Instead, he places the hovered amulet somewhere where Severus can reach it. "Whatever means you used to find the culprits behind the note," he says, "perhaps you might exercise the same on whatever wizard or witch was coaxed into making these."

[inkdamage]

Traces on magical items are easier to work, though he doesn't say so; whether Lucius can't or merely doesn't want to bother isn't his business, and this whole adventure has been Severus' undertaking, after all. But he takes the medallion and stows it for later pursual. That spell is one that requires a quiet moment.

In complete incongruity to everything-

"Thanks, Lucius."

[amourpropre]

"A pleasure." He has the decency to sound a little wry about it, but, the bar is somewhat low, there. Lucius gives one final glance about as if to survey the damage done and finding it to be satisfactory enough.

And it's true; his nature is to advise, and offer suggestion, and coax others into taking the lead, and following. Which doesn't make it not his business, when he adds, "I'll be interested to see where this leads." And with that, he takes it upon himself to go; reality bends a little around him in Disapparition, and he does so silently.