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Post by Admin on Aug 7, 2019 1:11:36 GMT
 anticipation My hands are shaking from holding back from you All of this silence and patience, pining and desperately waiting
Rabastan Ashmedai Lestrange was a many of complicated temperament and many needs. His time in Azkaban had not left him unchanged. Though his brother seemed to return to himself quickly enough, even when they had been in the work camp, it had not been so for Rabastan. He was prone to dips of melancholy. He could still become paralyzed by the damage wrought against him by the long stints in solitary confinement. Though his elixirs did much to normalize, to keep him grounded in reality, it was a constant toil to overcome the pain and darkness in him.
He found companions made the battle against himself much more easily won. His kept mistress did much to give him a place of rest and reprieve from the world...but it was indecent for him to spend time with her publicly. She was a halfblood. She was a known harlot. He could not take her dancing. He could not take her to fine restaurants... and though she had a keen mind for history, she knew nothing of his great passions. He could not share discussions of the art of necromancy with her. His greatest achievements could not truly be understood or appreciated by his pet. There was one, though, that he had come to know that could appreciate these parts of him.
Rabastan had taken interest in Ursula some months ago now. She had sought out his expertise--and he had spent now a great many hours talking with her and being present during her experimentation. He could not offer his wand any longer in assistant to the endeavors she was entrenched upon, but he could offer his knowledge, which was as invaluable a resource as any that could be had. But there was more to what existed between the pair of them than a shared passion for the necromantic arts. He could still feel her in his arms, eyes on them as they swept around the Shacklebolts' gala, her curves pressed to him in the Dolohov home. His lips had not touched hers, but there was undeniable magic between them. He had a possessiveness towards her that was not that of a mentor towards his protege. The way that the witch looked at him, though, was not that of a student to a teach, either. They were both besot. It was clearly seen by any who looked on them.
He had her company tonight, celebrating with her on her birthday. She was with him instead of with those two stupid fools. Rabastan had not hidden his judgments of Arthur and Merlin from Ursula. They were petty children. He had set about pulling her away from them. It had been a gradual endeavor, but here they were--alone at Waterfront. A goblin made necklace snaked around her neck, placed there by him when he had met her at her bed and breakfast--a gift from him to her in honor of the day. It snaked itself about, ghosting over her skin in sensual caresses. He'd wanted her to wear it while they enjoyed dinner, because he knew the magic it carried and he had hopes for what it would do to the woman's thoughts.
Dinner had been ordered and glasses of wine poured for the each of them. He knew they would have a good bit of time together alone now while the meal was prepared. He'd secured a private dining area for them--wanting in his selfish way to have Ursula all to himself. He had pulled the chair out for her himself when they sat down instead of allowing the wait staff to do it. The gesture had been small, but it was meaningful to him. He was showing her honor tonight--and it had given him the small opportunity to slip his hands up her arms as he pushed her chair in. The brief contacts between them had been ongoing for so long now. The anticipation made him feel young again--and carried him back to years before Azkaban.
The Lestrange raised a glass to his date. "To you, happy birthday, Ursula." He prayed her name off his lips and his eyes burned with hunger for her. It was uncouth the way he looked at her. But he was helpless to prevent himself.
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Post by Admin on Aug 7, 2019 1:11:46 GMT
 anticipation Inescapable, I’m not even going to try And if I get burned, at least we were electrified When she had gone looking for help, she hadn’t known that she was going to find Rabastan Lestrange. At least not at first. He hadn’t been who she had sought out. She had just wanted to find someone that could tell her what it was that she wanted to know. And someone had pointed her in the direction of his shop. And that had led to an owl sent to him, because when she had tried to go there, it had been closed. Which was… Perplexing, except for the fact that now she knew that it wasn’t really open during normal hours. It was open whenever he wanted it to be, and no one was particularly worried about that apparently. He came and went as he pleased, and there were times when Ursula thought that it was simply easier to owl him her questions than it was to try and find the time to meet him. She had wanted to know what it was that he thought of her experiments, and she had wanted advice. That was what this had been, this was innocent. This was curiosity, and she realized, only too late, that it was curiosity that killed the cat. But satisfaction brought it back. Tonight, was not about her curiosity though, tonight he had asked her to dinner, because it was her birthday. She was officially thirty-five years old today, and there were a lot of ways that she had celebrated this day in the past, but it had never been alone with just one person. Ursula was a lot of things, but she didn’t know what this made her. What tonight made her? She knew that he had gotten her beautiful gifts, and he had brought her to dinner without her friends… Ursula was not a fool. She knew what he was doing, and she was letting him do it. She was letting him pull her away from them, and closer to him. She was letting him help her put some distance there in her life. And she was trying to do that herself. She had even gone so far as to talk to Gwen, and to tell her that she didn’t think that any of it had been her fault. That what the boys had done to her, what Lance especially had done, was not fair. She hadn’t known if anyone had ever said that to her before, and she thought that it might have been her one good deed of the year. She had told her the truth, and Ursula had every intention of turning Lance into her first human experiment. Eventually she was going to have to rip the heart out of a human to see if she could keep it beating in her box. To see if she could keep them living and influence their actions by cursing the heart. It was a whole plan, she wanted that sort of control, but she would, at some point, need a test subject, nad the man seemed the perfect fit. Perhaps these were not pleasant birthday thoughts, but Ursula thought that learning how to do it completely before her next birthday was a solid goal. If she would have lost her magic, she would have been in much more dire straits, but alas, that had not been the case. She was still fine, and she was thinking that there was something else that she had to work out in the end. Why it was that she was fine, and both of her parents were ill. It made no sense, unless she was the recipient of who recessive genes. That could have very well been a possibility. Her fingers ghosted up to touch the necklace that he had draped around her neck when he had first picked her up. It was moving, as if it were alive, and slithering around her neck, and Ursula didn’t know what it was about it, but it caused it to be rather difficult to focus at times. Other things kept invading her thoughts as she was trying to focus on the man across the table from her. “Thank you, my lord.” She raised her glass to tap against the edge of his, and she smirked a little bit as she took a sip of her wine, and moved her gaze away from him as she felt his all over her. "I can feel that, you know?"MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOX 2.0
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Post by Admin on Aug 7, 2019 1:11:54 GMT
anticipation My hands are shaking from holding back from you All of this silence and patience, pining and desperately waiting
Tonight was to be a considerable exercise in self control for the Lestrange. To sit across the table from Ursula, drinking in her beauty and enjoying her company as much as any of the fine wine and food they enjoyed, made him feel a much younger man. She was smart and incredibly sexy, but there was still a softness to her. He found in her some blend and balance he was not sure could be found in one woman. She was no passive prey to be taken, nor was she an untouchable iceberg. In ways, she reminded him of Andromeda. That gave him an unreasonable swell of feelings. His brother's wife was truly a marvel of a woman. His own resentment and jealousy towards Rodolphus on that matter still struck him sometimes. It was difficult not to long for the love of such a woman.
Being free of Bellatrix tormenting him since he had lost his magic made it all too easy to see the draw that Andromeda had. But the heart of that woman belonged resolutely to a man who would never love her. Rabastan had already been in love with his brother's wife once before. He'd carried that devotion in his heart for the greater part of his life. He was done with that. He was done with loving someone so completely that did not love him back, that could not love him as he loved her... But the beauty on his arm gave him home. She was not bewitched by his brother. She was brilliant all in her own right. She gave him hope for what might finally be his.
Ursula had an indescribable draw for him all of her own--and he wanted her. By Merlin and Morgana, he wanted her as badly as he had ever wanted a woman. It was maddening really. Words had been mixed up and thoughts lost while he was in her presence, a result of the distraction she proved to be. The best sort of distraction, though, one he ached for. They had waited so long to cross the barrier between flirtation and physicality. It had not yet been crossed. But it was not like the celibacy of his relationship with Athena. While the blonde had never been to his bed, he did not long to have her there. He did not steal the smallest bits of physical contact from her as he did with Ursula. For with the le Fay, he was like a man starved. To feel her skin beneath his fingertips could sustain him from one moment to the next. She had a way of becoming the very air he required.
To be here tonight was a testament to what he had come to value, what he had come to need. He had been ready to take Athena as a wife when he had began to court her all those months ago. He had been accepting of a life spent with an ambitious women who like his brother saw love as a weakness. He'd thought that was all life could afford him...or at least the best. Anya had changed all of that for him. She had shown him kindness, compassion, perhaps even love. He did not want to go without such things now in his marriage. He would not.
The possibility for such things in a wife had seemed out of reach for a very long time. But there was a new woman setting his world alight now. A woman who ignited not only carnal desire in him, but more. She caught something in his mind and lifted it up to show him that it was possible to find an ally, a lover, and actual love all in a single person. Did he love her? It was quite possibly so. Did she love him? He could not say. But it felt as if she might. The way she looked at him, the moments they had shared--they were full of something more than camaraderie or even attraction. Something had come to be between them and he was desperate for it.
Tonight was a monumental moment in their relationship. There had been brushes with romantic intentions and desires before. There had been lingering looks, but he had done nothing. He had taken no action on his wants. He'd made efforts to convince himself she admired him only as a necromancer...but since Christmas that claim had been more difficult to sustain. Not one to lie to himself, he had sought to take them from what they had been to what he hoped they could be--and now here, being out with her tonight, it was a mark of pride for the man. That did not help diminish his desire to take her away from this restaurant, despite having only just arrived. It was his opinion that he had shared Ursula with others for too long.
The Lestrange let his eyes languish over her, taking in every detail. He was shameless in it. "Rabastan, please. I do not want formality between us tonight." He insisted, wanting them to be as close to equals as they could be this night. Rabastan was old fashioned in a number of ways...He had been raised to know the old ways, to live them--and prison did not give much perspective against those lessons. But, he still fancied the idea of a companion and partner that was powerful all of their own right, instead of a timid or submissive one. Powerful women had always held his eye and his devotion. Truly, for the great part of his life, the only woman he truly saw was Bellatrix. Even after she had been slain, she stayed in his mind, in his heart. He believed her a ghost, or a sliver of one. None but he seemed to see her, and he had only pictured her clearly when he was in a state of paralysis. She came him to him no more, though, now. It felt like a betrayal. Terribly cruel. It made him feel as if the only reason she had ever hesitated abandoning him completely was his skill in necromancy. Without it, she had no need or want for him. He had always been disposable to her.
Was he disposal to Ursula? It was difficult to know with certainty. He felt surely that he was such to Athena. But with affection and flirtation, there is the possibility for deceit. He was no legilimens. He could not know the truth of what lay in any woman's heart. But he knew the truth of his own. He knew the wants that drove him to seek company with his mistress. There was a sensitivity in him. There were needs in him that had been long neglected. No matter his age, he still carried the wounds of a father's hate and absence of a mother. But to lay his interest in Ursula solely against such things was misguided.
It was not only the needs of the heart that made him want her. It was, also, the needs of the body. She was enchanting--and he wanted her. Possessiveness that he had never felt before rose in him as his eyes moved over her form. She called him on the way he was looking at her and a husky chuckle rumbled from his throat. "Good," he declared, satisfaction clear in his undertone. "May my attention be as distracting for you as your visage is for me." He smirked at her, pleased beyond measure at the way she responded to him. The wizard did not stop or turn his hungry gaze away from her. He was blatant and transparent in his desire. They had played this game of flirtation long enough. He would not have her wake in the morning uncertain of him. For whatever it meant for the future--between them, between himself and Athena--he was beguiled by Ursula le Fay.
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