The Collector [Ulysses, Circe, Antonin]
Title: UniQue (Part I) : The Collector
Genre: General
Characters: Circe Wilkes, Ulysses Gibbon; briefly: Adam Wilkes, Antonin Dolohov; mentioned: the Rosiers, numerous Aurors
Rating: PG-13 for blood
Word Count: 956 words
Summary: Ulysses. Circe. Adam. Blood.
Warning/s: A bit of blood, dissection, nothing too hardcore
Author's Notes: JKR owns, I play, all that stuff. No money.
Ulysses Gibbon was a collecting man. He collected all sorts of things - small and big, trivial and important. One thing his collection had in common, however, was that they were all very rare and only he had them. Each item was unique -- special. He had just returned to England after an expedition in Spain. He had come home with some lovely trinkets - a select few would go into his collection. The others, however, priceless as they were - were just begging to be given away to adorn a lovely pale neck. He checked his watch idly before looking across the room. His eyebrow quirked. That was different, right there.
Circe sat quietly on of the of the Lestranges' couches. She wore a gown, much like all the ladies around her. Circe, despite not caring too much about her own outer appearance, loved the new fashions and loved beautiful clothes. She sat quietly as her eyes followed the dark-haired former Gryffindor as she teased and flirted with her brother. Adam had been nothing but polite all evening and Circe was not particularly worried about this one. She was not Adam's type -- yet she watched. She was watching the girl so seriously that it took Adam turning around to walk towards her for her to notice that someone was standing beside her. She did not move until he spoke.
"May I have this dance?" his voice was gravelly with an accent she thought was English but was foreign to her ears.
She looked up at him coldly. Everyone knew she did not dance.
He returned her gaze calmly before extending a hand to her.
She did not take it.
He was dead. He was really dead. Circe paced her bedroom in agitation. Adam and Evan. Adam and Evan. Adam. Adam. Adam. She looked around her bedroom, suddenly afraid. She did not like being alone when there was absolutely no one to come home ever. She would not receive the body. She could not. She had the Mark on her arms. She could not ask for his body. They would see and she would be captured and that would be end of that but it could not end that way. She flexed her fingers in agitation. She did the only thing that made sense at the time.
She left the house and walked towards the Rosier house. They would be planning to retrieve Evan's body. They would be able to retrieve Adam's, too. Megaera was unmarked. Morena was unmarked. They could fetch the bodies. She could not. She walked.
"Miss Wilkes?" a now-familiar voice spoke to her. The owner of the voice had asked her to dance at every ball thrown in the last two years. She had always refused. She simply did not dance.
Circe made the dire mistake of turning to look at him. He burned into her soul. She took a step back and stumbled, nearly falling over onto the street. He reached out and caught her frail frame easily. He righted her, watching as she dusted herself off. She shook her head at him, eyes still wary. She inclined her head politely before turning away hastily and walking towards the Rosier home. She turned back once. He stood at the exact same spot, watching her.
Circe curled up in her brother's chair, pressing her cheek against the back. It still smelled of fire. It still smelled like Adam. She stayed there for a while, contemplating what she was supposed to do next. There was no direction without Adam. It might be best to just follow him. Yes, kill the Aurors who killed him and then follow Adam to wherever he'd gone. For now, however, she would sit here and breathe.
Circe wiped her cheek where a drop of blood had stained it. The action did not do much except smear the blood around on her pale cheek. She let out a small breath before she dropped the bag and the knife on her table. She could have used her wand to do the deed but there was something far more personal about plunging a knife deep into someone and watching them die slowly. The fire in the Auror's eyes had been strong until she had extinguished it. In her fervor, she had punctured his liver, which she regrettably had to leave in the corpse, but there were better parts for harvest anyway. The body was properly disposed of and she was two down for the group of Aurors that had killed her brother. There were only three more.
Walking over to the cabinet where she kept her bones, she pulled out a small velvet bag and sat at her table. Removing the stark white dice from their case, she fingered them in her hand before looking down the list. Daniels. Moody. Pippin. Shacklebolt. There was already one name crossed out. She dragged a line through Pippin with her free hand. She threw the bones on the table and asked the Fates who they wanted her to dispel next. The bones clattered onto the table. Circe watched and read the symbols. She frowned. That could not be right.
She looked up when she heard the wards go off. Someone was here. She grabbed her wand and slid up against the wall, slipping into shadows. She listened quietly, barely breathing. She couldn't hear the footfalls. She strained her ears. She heard nothing. She sighed and slipped out of the darkness and dropped her wand on the table. He had been away when Adam died. He had not been here. He was only one she could trust. She half-ran towards him and threw herself at him wearliy. He caught her.
"Antonin."
"Circe."
Genre: General
Characters: Circe Wilkes, Ulysses Gibbon; briefly: Adam Wilkes, Antonin Dolohov; mentioned: the Rosiers, numerous Aurors
Rating: PG-13 for blood
Word Count: 956 words
Summary: Ulysses. Circe. Adam. Blood.
Warning/s: A bit of blood, dissection, nothing too hardcore
Author's Notes: JKR owns, I play, all that stuff. No money.
Ulysses Gibbon was a collecting man. He collected all sorts of things - small and big, trivial and important. One thing his collection had in common, however, was that they were all very rare and only he had them. Each item was unique -- special. He had just returned to England after an expedition in Spain. He had come home with some lovely trinkets - a select few would go into his collection. The others, however, priceless as they were - were just begging to be given away to adorn a lovely pale neck. He checked his watch idly before looking across the room. His eyebrow quirked. That was different, right there.
Circe sat quietly on of the of the Lestranges' couches. She wore a gown, much like all the ladies around her. Circe, despite not caring too much about her own outer appearance, loved the new fashions and loved beautiful clothes. She sat quietly as her eyes followed the dark-haired former Gryffindor as she teased and flirted with her brother. Adam had been nothing but polite all evening and Circe was not particularly worried about this one. She was not Adam's type -- yet she watched. She was watching the girl so seriously that it took Adam turning around to walk towards her for her to notice that someone was standing beside her. She did not move until he spoke.
"May I have this dance?" his voice was gravelly with an accent she thought was English but was foreign to her ears.
She looked up at him coldly. Everyone knew she did not dance.
He returned her gaze calmly before extending a hand to her.
She did not take it.
He was dead. He was really dead. Circe paced her bedroom in agitation. Adam and Evan. Adam and Evan. Adam. Adam. Adam. She looked around her bedroom, suddenly afraid. She did not like being alone when there was absolutely no one to come home ever. She would not receive the body. She could not. She had the Mark on her arms. She could not ask for his body. They would see and she would be captured and that would be end of that but it could not end that way. She flexed her fingers in agitation. She did the only thing that made sense at the time.
She left the house and walked towards the Rosier house. They would be planning to retrieve Evan's body. They would be able to retrieve Adam's, too. Megaera was unmarked. Morena was unmarked. They could fetch the bodies. She could not. She walked.
"Miss Wilkes?" a now-familiar voice spoke to her. The owner of the voice had asked her to dance at every ball thrown in the last two years. She had always refused. She simply did not dance.
Circe made the dire mistake of turning to look at him. He burned into her soul. She took a step back and stumbled, nearly falling over onto the street. He reached out and caught her frail frame easily. He righted her, watching as she dusted herself off. She shook her head at him, eyes still wary. She inclined her head politely before turning away hastily and walking towards the Rosier home. She turned back once. He stood at the exact same spot, watching her.
Circe curled up in her brother's chair, pressing her cheek against the back. It still smelled of fire. It still smelled like Adam. She stayed there for a while, contemplating what she was supposed to do next. There was no direction without Adam. It might be best to just follow him. Yes, kill the Aurors who killed him and then follow Adam to wherever he'd gone. For now, however, she would sit here and breathe.
Circe wiped her cheek where a drop of blood had stained it. The action did not do much except smear the blood around on her pale cheek. She let out a small breath before she dropped the bag and the knife on her table. She could have used her wand to do the deed but there was something far more personal about plunging a knife deep into someone and watching them die slowly. The fire in the Auror's eyes had been strong until she had extinguished it. In her fervor, she had punctured his liver, which she regrettably had to leave in the corpse, but there were better parts for harvest anyway. The body was properly disposed of and she was two down for the group of Aurors that had killed her brother. There were only three more.
Walking over to the cabinet where she kept her bones, she pulled out a small velvet bag and sat at her table. Removing the stark white dice from their case, she fingered them in her hand before looking down the list. Daniels. Moody. Pippin. Shacklebolt. There was already one name crossed out. She dragged a line through Pippin with her free hand. She threw the bones on the table and asked the Fates who they wanted her to dispel next. The bones clattered onto the table. Circe watched and read the symbols. She frowned. That could not be right.
She looked up when she heard the wards go off. Someone was here. She grabbed her wand and slid up against the wall, slipping into shadows. She listened quietly, barely breathing. She couldn't hear the footfalls. She strained her ears. She heard nothing. She sighed and slipped out of the darkness and dropped her wand on the table. He had been away when Adam died. He had not been here. He was only one she could trust. She half-ran towards him and threw herself at him wearliy. He caught her.
"Antonin."
"Circe."