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Post by Admin on Aug 7, 2019 1:05:14 GMT
He was 'well'---healthy... no cough, no fever, but still no magic. And no Bellatrix. He had slipped into his paralyzed state a few times on purpose intentionally seeking her. She was not there. She had abandoned him now that he was no necromancer. He could not bring her back. He could not give her the pleasure of vicarious torture. He could do nothing for the late Black bwitch and she had abandoned him.
In turn, he had abandoned Athena. He had not seen her since he had fallen ill. He could not. He did not wish for to look on him with pity or disgust. The man could not take the rejection of both his first love and his wanted wife. So, he went to his mistress. Anya was a useful whore--she had proven herself more than a warm body, though still she was no Athena or Bellatrix. She did know things--and would give herself over to seeking out the knowledge he required. He approved of her and that was why he kept her for himself.
Rabastan did not like to share his toys. So, once he came to think of Anya as his, he had taken he out of the de Lis and put her up in an apartment. It had once been a shabby place, but his Galleons had improved it considerably. He wished to be comfortable here--so there was fine furniture and finer liquor and no shortage of pretty yellow vials. The stash of elixir here was enough to get both of them through six months of wasteful indulgence--or a year of careful moderation. So, realistically, the stock here would last eight months or so--and he had even more back at the castle. There would be plenty of time to find a brewer of adequate skill to master his recipe before there was real danger of the Lestrange losing that which kept him in touch with sanity.
He had brought a stack of books with him today--tomes relieved from the Lestrange library for his pet to research through. Rabastan had long brought her gifts of knowledge for her own enjoyment, but now he brought books that might yield some knowledge of illnesses similar to this one. Today, he held several ancient ledgers from healers, as well as a number of books in runic on long forgotten illnesses. The books sat on the table next to the flooplace. He had left them there when he had arrived, intent on settling the needs of the physical body before discussing any other matters.
But Anya knew his body well--and he, hers. It had been a most pleasant reunion, but satisfied (at least for the moment), Rabastan reclined on the chaise longue he favored when he came to visit, waiting for Anya to bring him a glass of scotch. In times past, she would have been beside him and he would have summoned the liquor, but there was no summoning now. Everything was done the manual way. Vexing.
"Those are for you, of course," he stated when she offered him the glass, gesturing towards the stack of aged tomes. "Have any of the others I sent already provided any useful information?" The wizard had little hope that she would answer affirmatively. He had glanced through the books before sending them to her. Nothing had jumped out at him...but he had only skimmed the pages. He had left the detailed study to Anya. This was just one more way she could serve him--and he would reward her for it, as he always did when she did something that pleased him. Perhaps a house elf was in order for his little home away from home. It would be beneficial for him, as well as her.
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Post by Admin on Aug 7, 2019 1:05:21 GMT
Anya didn't really mind losing her magic. Yes, it had thrown her off quite a bit. Magic was something she relied on, which she used constantly and for little things in her daily life, but she had gotten used to missing it in the time since she'd returned from Pyxis. Her time in the former school had been horrible, full of a fever and the pain of withdrawal, delirious most of the time. She had not told any of the healers that treated her about her addiction, though she thought they might suspect something after a while. After all, her symptoms were uncommon. There were several people who varied in their fever and illness, but the cause for that had probably been very visible. There was no obvious reason for her to have been in as much pain as she had. Before they managed to figure it out, though, Lord Rabastan had rewarded her with a few vials of the elixir. They lasted her until she was finally released, which was several days after her fever had disappeared. Of course she was held back to be observed for some time more, but she had alerted Lord Lestrange of it and he had not seemed too bothered by it. Thankfully. It seemed he had been unwilling to leave the castle after his illness died down, which she understood. It had been some time since she'd last seen him and- well, she wouldn't exactly say she'd missed him, but he was almost all the human interaction she had. So she had missed him but she hadn't, if that made sense. It made sense to her.
He had come back tonight, and yes, she had been as ready for him as every night. Although Anya hadn't been expecting Lord Lestrange to show up, she had been in the clothing he preferred, perfumed in the scents he favoured, make up done, skin smooth. It had all been for naught, lately, but she'd done it anyway, just in case. It was a good thing that she had because suddenly Lord Lestrange was back and her services were required. Which was actually enjoyable. Sex was sex and she liked it, usually. This time was not an exception to that rule and after they were done she had slipped on one of the silk robes she kept and had moved to get him a drink. Three fingers of whiskey without any ice- and before bringing it to him, she took a small bottle from a shelf and sipped it. Not the elixir, it was a birth control potion. Then she moved back to Lord Lestrange with the glass in hand and passed it to him before sinking onto the carpet by his feet. Anya folded her legs under her and leaned with an arm on his lap, looking up at him.
At his words, Anya looked towards the new stack of books he'd brought with him. She had many books in the apartment, tomes she kept to read and entertain herself. Lately, he'd been sending her some very specific reading, mostly to do with ancient medicine and illnesses. She knew what he was looking for, so she had done all the reading he required, carefully analysing each text to see if she could find something that would please him. Unfortunately, it had been in vain. "I found nothing, my lord. Nothing of consequence, at least. A few mentions of experimentation on squibs to see what caused their lack of magic, but mostly medieval methodology. Unstructured. But squibs did not lose their magic, they were born without it. Unless we consider that they somehow lost magic in the womb- but that has not been explored in the books you provided." She trails a circle on his knee, absently, looking at the new books. They seem old, probably rare and worth a fortune. She would be interested to read through them and if they could provide anything at all, then that would be even better. "But I will look through the new ones diligently and seek something with more substance, my lord." Hopefully, that would be enough. She couldn't make information suddenly appear.
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Post by Admin on Aug 7, 2019 1:05:26 GMT
It was not what he had hoped to hear...but the no was exactly what the man expected. A sigh accompanied an accepting nod of his head. This was all to be expected. Answers would not be easily found. It was still disappointing. He was without a part of himself. The absence of his magic left him vulnerable and ill at ease. Not to mention the annoyance of it, everything took such effort these days. He wanted his lover to tell him she had found an answer. He wanted to find a means to be back to himself. So, they would continue the search.
"It has been much the same in all I've found. I am growing more certain each day that nothing like this sickness has been known before now. It all feels highly abnormal. The world and existence itself is cyclic. Things go away and return...but this, this has not been before, meaning it must have been made..." Who could manage such a thing, though... and had the revolution that brought him freedom from the work camp been what set this sickness in motion? It did seem like a cruel act of revenge, but even the muggleborns were impacted by it. He did not think one of that lot or an alliance of them would have crafted such a sickness without a cure--and without protecting their own... But perhaps he was thinking to much like himself in holding that thought.
She swore to look through the new books carefully and he gave her a gentle brush down her cheek. "I'm sure you will," he acknowledged. His voice was soft with her. The wizard was disappointed, but not in her. It wasn't as if they were the only pair failing to find answers to this sickness. All of the wizarding UK was searching for a cause and cure.
"I've never gone without magic like before," Rabastan told her. A soft scoff of something akin to sadness rose up from him. "Even in Azkaban. They took our wands, of course, made a big show of breaking them in half right there in the Wizengamot chambers, but I didn't need it. I hadn't for a long time." Another sigh came from him and he looked down at Anya thoughtfully. "You're so young--" He half whispered. "I've lived a number of your lifetimes already...It makes it hard to adjust after so long. Magic is what is supposed to define me. Being pure of heritage only goes so far. Squibs get written out of the family histories. And what am I now but that?" He wore the saddest of smiles now. It was clear this epidemic was very hard on the man. He felt he had lost that which defined him.
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Post by Admin on Aug 7, 2019 1:05:30 GMT
Anya had known that Rabastan would return at some point. When she left the hospital she’d informed him that she was back home but he hadn’t come. Though she’d done what he’d asked and fed him the information on the goings on at the hospital, she had seen nothing of Rabastan for a few weeks. But she didn’t mind. Not too much at least. It was a bit lonely but she knew that it was probably hard for him to keep going as if everything was normal after losing his magic. For her, it had been an adjustment period but she was not devastated or anything like that. She knew what it was like to lose something that was intrinsic to one’s life and seemingly unmovable. So she knew how to keep going despite not being fine. She knew how to be alright again, how to stop thinking about it and just move on. That wasn’t to say that Rabastan didn’t know it, she didn’t know him that deeply so she couldn’t say wether he’d ever managed to let go of something so important to his life. But he was a pureblood lord, and he was purist, so she thought that it only made sense that he would be taking this loss much harder than someone like her would. Because of that, she’d waited without a single complaint, and now he was here which meant that her patience had been rewarded.
“If it was man made then it was designed as a weapon. But it cannot be intended for the light and dark conflict. It must be something else.” After all, the epidemic had hit everyone equally. Death Eaters, muggleborns, Order members. She doubted that the purebloods in charge would be in any way worried if it had come from them- who made an illness without magic a cure for it? In case it affected them too? It couldn’t be any particular side of this conflict, it was just to widespread for that. At the same time, though, what other purpose was there? To punish everyone that had magic at all, no matter who they were and what they did? That seemed so vague, so nonsensical, that she couldn’t believe it. There had to be something they were missing, which wasn’t all that hard considering that nobody knew anything about what was going on.
At his words, she nodded, leaning into the touch to her face. She wondered how many people saw this side of Rabastan Lestrange. The tired side, the one that was so trapped in his past sometimes, the side that could turn his voice soft and his touch gentle. It wasn’t something that anyone would ever expect, knowing who he was. Or rather, knowing what the public knew about him. Anya knew that he was a very private person when it came to this stuff. But like she wasn’t the only girl he’d visited at the Fleur, sometimes she couldn’t help but wonder who saw this side of him as well. Other than her. Well, there wasn’t anything she could do about that and she knew that it was how Rabastan was. She’d rather not think about it and just go along with them as just them. None of it mattered, after all, because she was here and he was here with her. That was all.
For a few moments, she didn’t know what to say. Yes, he was usually more open here, but to this point? It didn’t happen always. So she rose from his position on the floor and moved to his lap, raising a hand to cup his jaw softly, stroking over the edge with a thumb. “Magic is a natural part of us, and it’s something which has been central in your life until now, my Lord. But it is not all you are. It will indeed be hard to adjust but I’m here to keep you company through that and after a while… you’ll find what you are without it. So that when you get your magic back, you’ll be more.” She knew that it would come back, that a solution would be found. She had to be sure of it, had to believe in it. The part of the being a squib- it made some noise in her head. Someone who wouldn’t be affected by the epidemic and would not need a cure, someone who could very easily be resentful of the magical world as a whole. But that wasn’t important right now. What mattered was Rabastan. So she placed a soft kiss on his cheek. “It will be alright, eventually. You just need to find yourself outside magic.”
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