(no subject)
Date: March 17, 2002
Time: Late night
Location: Lestrange Manor
Characters Involved: Bellatrix Lestrange, Rabastan Lestrange
Rating: R?
All day. She'd stayed in all day long. She lay, lounging on the chaise in her parlor, cigarette in hand as she glazed over the Prophet, barely even reading the printed words. She hadn't even bothered to put on a corset, instead wearing a simple green dress. The newly acquired house elf was working out well, and the posh mansion was immaculate. When she first moved in, she did little to change the elegant decor - Victorian, but without the kitch and clutter. The rich fabrics and detailed woods created a small haven from the world. Or at least, it had been.
Ever since that insufferable Anniversary Dinner, Bellatrix had been in a poor mood. Old ways were painfully absent. Social interaction was no longer governed by the comfortable, familiar hierarchy. They called her crazy? It was the world that had gone mad! This was their grand society? With public brawls, blatantly drunk girls stumbling around the dance floors?
Isn't that very much the pot calling the kettle.... a Black?
"Shut up, Roddy," she smirked. "Besides, at least we had the good sense to confine such behavior to private parties."
With a frown she realized she was speaking aloud. Gone were the days when she had to make a conscious effort to avoid questioning the source or reality of the voices that only she seemed to hear. Once she disposed of the cigarette in her self-cleaning ashtray, Bellatrix stretched and rose from her seat. She could just call Blitz, the elf, for tea but she was so bored she was willing to make it herself. Bare feet softly padded on the marble floor as she walked through the main entrance toward the kitchen. As she lifted a hand to rake through her long, loose mane, the wards alerted her to someone's approach. Pulling her wand from a fold of her dress, she tapped the nearest picture frame, which would reveal the walkway up the house.
Rabastan? She'd received no owl or announcement to his coming. If she weren't so exceptionally bored, she might have remembered to be annoyed. Nothing this with a sigh, she turned around and made her way to the front door. She arrived just in time to hear the knock before she opened the door.
Time: Late night
Location: Lestrange Manor
Characters Involved: Bellatrix Lestrange, Rabastan Lestrange
Rating: R?
All day. She'd stayed in all day long. She lay, lounging on the chaise in her parlor, cigarette in hand as she glazed over the Prophet, barely even reading the printed words. She hadn't even bothered to put on a corset, instead wearing a simple green dress. The newly acquired house elf was working out well, and the posh mansion was immaculate. When she first moved in, she did little to change the elegant decor - Victorian, but without the kitch and clutter. The rich fabrics and detailed woods created a small haven from the world. Or at least, it had been.
Ever since that insufferable Anniversary Dinner, Bellatrix had been in a poor mood. Old ways were painfully absent. Social interaction was no longer governed by the comfortable, familiar hierarchy. They called her crazy? It was the world that had gone mad! This was their grand society? With public brawls, blatantly drunk girls stumbling around the dance floors?
Isn't that very much the pot calling the kettle.... a Black?
"Shut up, Roddy," she smirked. "Besides, at least we had the good sense to confine such behavior to private parties."
With a frown she realized she was speaking aloud. Gone were the days when she had to make a conscious effort to avoid questioning the source or reality of the voices that only she seemed to hear. Once she disposed of the cigarette in her self-cleaning ashtray, Bellatrix stretched and rose from her seat. She could just call Blitz, the elf, for tea but she was so bored she was willing to make it herself. Bare feet softly padded on the marble floor as she walked through the main entrance toward the kitchen. As she lifted a hand to rake through her long, loose mane, the wards alerted her to someone's approach. Pulling her wand from a fold of her dress, she tapped the nearest picture frame, which would reveal the walkway up the house.
Rabastan? She'd received no owl or announcement to his coming. If she weren't so exceptionally bored, she might have remembered to be annoyed. Nothing this with a sigh, she turned around and made her way to the front door. She arrived just in time to hear the knock before she opened the door.