all the broken chords and unnamed cries

[orionis]

Who: Bellatrix Black, Ilde Decima, Anna Demirovna, Evan Rosier, and OPEN.
What: Drinks, tea, possibly more?
Where: Lost Society, Malfoy Townhouse, other locations negotiable.
When: Various.
Notes: I have some specific threads here, but they're by no means limiting. If you have something in mind, please feel free to tag in as your little heart desires, or contact me if you have details you'd like to work out.
Warnings: Most likely language. And bad decisions.

Things have progressed rather smoothly since Bellatrix's arrival, which perhaps surprises her the most. She didn't hug her sister when she arrived to retrieve her from the room she appeared in after grabbing the portkey in Knockturn Alley. She instead nodded, and thanked her. And after being taken to her Narcissa's home and shown to her room, crawled into bed and pulled the covers up over her head to make it dark, so she could fool her mind into believing it could be her own bed.

Comments

[orionis]

"Men are infinitely more entertaining when they're flopping about like fish out of water." To continue the aquatic metaphor.

They do match rather nicely, the three of them. It's a bit like when she and her younger sister go out together. "Is that what I promised?" Bellatrix asks with faux surprise. "I suppose I had best deliver." She puts on a winning smile then, sitting up straighter in her seat and regarding Anna and Ilde in turn. "Very well. Ask your first question."

[rhinemaid]

Ilde tips her hand, briefly - less that she thinks men are competent than she doesn't care, for the most part, if they can't fend for themselves it's their problem and not hers - and offers, for a question, “Where did you come from?” A moment later, amending it, “What sort of place?”

[indiscreet]

And then Ilde makes the sort of remark that reminds her why it is — apart from that whole strange fae thing that she's never quite sure how she feels about sharing — that she so enjoys her company.

It's as good a starting question as any, too. "Yes, what sort of place — and, since it seems to matter here, what sort of time?"

[orionis]

Bellatrix finds herself a little at a loss as to how to answer the question, having never had to explain her world before. It doesn't show on her face, however, save for a thoughtful expression.

"I come from England, and the year is 1970," is the short and simple answer. "Where I come from, we're meant to keep quiet about such things, though I've never agreed with the reasoning - I am a witch." A smile curls the corners of her mouth upward. "I trust that magic is nothing new to you having lived here." But then she leans in, suddenly sly. "I suspect you were no strangers to it even before then."

Which is a bit like asking what sort of place they come from.

[rhinemaid]

It could be a trick of the light, the way Ilde seems to gleam for a moment, reflecting the room's warm lighting back against her skin. It could be, but it isn't; she smiles.

“I don't believe in secrecy, either,” she says, curling her fingers around something unseen; one of the blood vials Katherine had given her, attached to a chain and hidden by illusions. She'd promised to carry one always, but it just doesn't always go with her outfit. (It is an oddly comforting presence.) “I know some of your kind-- I can taste it.” Different kinds of magic, identifiable; Ilde doesn't need to be told what Bellatrix is or even what brand of magic she practises, she's encountered enough of them to know the way they feel by instinct now. Severus (the younger) is the exception, with his magic altered from the norm, something else again.

“Fae,” she says, by way of explanation, which accounts for the curious nature of her appearance.

[indiscreet]

Oh, they're revealing themselves, now? Well, that's...interesting, and also happens to go against everything she's ever been taught since her Embrace. And Baedal politics have only gone to show the wisdom of the Masquerade: really, it's sometimes like the worst of both worlds here -- no protection of secrecy, no acceptance.

But Bellatrix had called herself a witch, hadn't she; had said that she had her own brand of secrecy to contend with. Were witches anything like mages, then? It didn't make her an automatic ally, precisely, but...it was something. It was also something that Ilde seemed comfortable sharing her nature (and that was a neat trick, tasting magic) -- not that she necessarily trusted Ilde's judgment inherently, but she didn't like the feeling of being the odd one out. More to the point, it wasn't likely to be particularly believable.

To her, the pause feels far too long as she considers. She could slip her glamour, but lightning is too eye-catching in this dark room, and besides, she's not sure she's willing to begin explaining that (and even now, she's alternately viciously proud and painfully ashamed). Instead, she leans in and flicks her eyes up to meet Bellatrix's gaze, the smell of rain and ozone lingering about her. (It has always been the hardest part to hide.)

"Secrecy is valuable," she says, tone guarded. Then, she allows herself a thin smile, and lets her fangs extend, subtle but unmistakable when she next speaks. "But so is knowledge." She raises the clear cocktail, swirls it. "This is just for show; I'd never keep it down for even a moment if I tried a sip... Vampire is the popular term," she offers.

[orionis]

Well, well, well. The other women's particular flavours of magical are actually a little unexpected, which truly only elates Bellatrix, and it shows in a glimmer in her eyes and a quirk in the corner of her mouth. "I don't believe I've ever seen a vampire quite as beautiful as you," she's quick to compliment. "Or one that so easily blends in." And that's kudos.

For Ilde, she leans a little bit closer, gaze slightly narrowed, darkly challenging in a way. "And what does my magic taste like? It's delectable, I hope."