One day it'll be one bon mot too many

[purely-better.livejournal.com]

*In all things there must be balance. Bellatrix is leading the charge, there was nothing Lucius could do about that, and little that he could do about her choice of players. He'd fought hard against Evan's inclusion, and is none too pleased about Igor's, for that matter. The one's a dangerously over-confident child, the other a coward - Lucius at least has the decency to appear stalwart in his convictions, he isn't a toady. That leaves only Rodolphus and himself to balance out a madwoman, a petulant boy, and a vodka-swilling hunyak. This, against two of the most dangerous Aurors in recent history. Five against two are not, this time, comforting odds, for all that it's the kind of math Lucius typically favors. 

It's hubris on Bellatrix's part, is what it is; what's attractive confidence in Narcissa is monstrous arrogance in her sister, and it's going to get them all killed if they aren't very careful. It's in light of this that Lucius is uncharacteristically grim as they all step silently out of the Prewett's fireplace, the temporary connection to the Floo network obligingly established for them by Miss Wilkes. Masks in place, the five of them all come through without incident, though Lucius can feel his heartbeat in his ears. This will either be a glorious victory for the Dark Lord, sure to advance him in prestige and trust, or Narcissa will be widowed tonight. There will be no in between in the wake of this fight, he knows it with utter certainty, and he's grateful that the cold impassive porcelain obscures the fear in his face as he steps forward, wand drawn, and cuts Bellatrix a sharp look: keep to the plan.*

Comments

[fatalfrenzy.livejournal.com]

*And that's the fight. Bellatrix looks down at the Auror dying at her feet, a cold smile on her face even beneath the removed serenity of her mask--and brings one boot down on the wand, snapping it.*

[purely-better.livejournal.com]

*Lucius is a mess under his mask, blood in his mouth and spilling down his chin, and he isn't sure if it's coming from his lungs or his stomach but he doesn't have time for Bella's little game of cat and mouse, and he's not going to lie here and die of internal bleeding while she plays with her food.

Fabian's all but dead and they all know it - he knows it, Lucius knows that look - but he watches from across the room as the Auror's face twists, as he grasps a broken half of his wand and tries to stab Bellatrix in the leg with it. It's laudably brave but pathetic, really, and it's with curt impatience that Lucius finishes Bella's job for her. Another sectumsempra blasts from his wand and slashes clean through Fabian's throat; a few seconds, a twitch, and he's still.

Lucius gives his passing no more notice than he would a dog in the road; the Prewetts are dead, and his work is done. Let the others fingerpaint if they want; he needs a Healer.*

If you're quite finished, a hand, for God's sake -

[dapperdeath.livejournal.com]

*When Gideon Prewett died, so did the rug, but it took another few moments of frantic struggling for Evan to realize as much. By the time he bounces back to his feet, dagger in one hand and wand in the other, Fabian's been executed as well. He deflates a little when he realizes that, but he puffs right back up when he remembers that his purpose here isn't just to kill them. There's no small measure of giddiness in his voice as he moves forward to the corpses, looking both over, and finally choosing Gideon.*

--Oh, not just done yet, we're going to send a message.

*One curse, and the leg comes off at the hip in another torrent of blood.*

What should it say, do you think? "Bon Voyage, Alice?"

[fatalfrenzy.livejournal.com]

Keep your trousers on, Evan. Is she even going anywhere?

*It comes out irritably. Roddy's bustling over her with his wand like a damned nursemaid, repairing her burnt flesh and numbing it, but she flicks him away to go attend to Lucius. To attend to him--and also to whisk him away where neither of them will have to see this next bit of business.

The dead one of their number on the floor goes quite unmourned. Convenient, anyway, to have someone to pin it on. They need only throw the Ministry the smallest bone and it will obligingly fail to look for them as it always has, single Death Eater, foreigner, case closed, nice little spread in the Prophet, and on to whatever fresh tyrannies Crouch can dream up for his own people to distract them from his failures. As long as they are out of here quickly, they needn't worry.

And the boy, bless him, has always worked quickly.*

[le-strangled.livejournal.com]

*With Bella motioning him away, he quickly turns his ministrations to Lucius--the worst of his has been hidden by his mask but there's a bit of blood dribbling down his collar, and Roddy lets out a little apologetic exclamation of surprise and crouches before the other man.

Careful not to injure Lucius' dignity yet further, Roddy helps him to his feet and takes him to the hearth.*

Hope you won't be too long. Twinky will probably be worried sick.

*And with that little bit of homey cheer left over his shoulder, he tosses a handful of powder in the temporarily connected hearth, and Roddy and Lucius vanish.*

[dapperdeath.livejournal.com]

*Evan doesn't even bother nothing their departure, but instead faces the large, windowless wall next to the corpses. The severed leg hovers obediently behind him as he considers it as an artist might consider a blank canvas; but of course, it's not blank. Well, that can be rectified. He steps forward and tears down two Chudley Cannons posters, letting the long strips of bright paper flutter to the floor.*

No, you're right, she's not going anywhere. Maybe just "This one's for you, Alice?"

[fatalfrenzy.livejournal.com]

Seems simple enough. Or simply "Hello Alice".

*A flick of her wand, and the other corpse rises sharply, almost jubilantly, as if she's yanked the strings of a puppet. Carefully, she arranges the corpse in a desk chair and rotates it to face away from the door. It's the little touches.

She makes sure to keep a wide berth, however: that little device of Evan's is still chewing away. Curious. There isn't much left of the face.*

Why her? What'd she do other than lock up every common criminal and half-breed between here and Surrey?

[dapperdeath.livejournal.com]

Hello, yes, that's perfect.

*He goes to work, in big block printing, going back to the spreading and cooling pool near the remaining body to re-wet the thing as needed.*

She's given me a bit of personal offense. Taken a personal interest in me. Almost outed me in front of my wife before she knew. You saw that silly little newspaper with the screed against her? I sent those files along to them. Most everything in there is true. She's a beast who needs to be put back in her proper place. Or beaten. Or muzzled. Or something.

[fatalfrenzy.livejournal.com]

Not a bad idea. You can always use the Capistriatus Curse. It can be absolutely hysterical if it's done right.

*There isn't much left to be done--that little Rosier toy is doing more than enough on its own and it doesn't look as though it's going to stop anytime soon. She leaves the desk chair just-so, ready to be turned by whoever finds it. They always, always turn the chair, she knows that much--they could never resist, not ever, even with the Mark and the blood and all of it, when it's clear as the day what they'll find there.

It's got her more than a little tickled. She's wearing a beatific smile as she crosses to Evan, kicking a blood-soaked stack of comic books out of the way like a child playing in a rain puddle.*

And how is the little woman? I can't believe you, already settled. Rabastan's practically middle-aged and still waiting, apparently, for the right man to come along--

Don't forget to cross the I. Just there. You write like a peasant.

[dapperdeath.livejournal.com]

I had her against a wall with a knife at her throat and she still managed to get the better of me. The curse would be delightful, but just killing her would be safer. I'm just hoping this mess will make her careless.

*It's slow going, painting letters as tall as the leg used to paint them.*

And Amrita and I are lovely. I do believe mother is even coming to terms with our marriage.

[fatalfrenzy.livejournal.com]

*She observes over his shoulder with a certain professional curiosity, arms folded.*

Well, that's why you don't muck about with knives, isn't it? Muggles are one thing, have your fun--but you're a wizard, not a butcher.

And I'm sure Esmerelda will come 'round eventually. There's no call for her to be prejudiced.

[dapperdeath.livejournal.com]

No, you're quite right. It should be a wand for her, I do have to give her that much credit.

*What he doesn't want to admit, of course, is that it has been a very near thing with the rug-turned-tiger, and that he himself has never excelled in combat magic--one slip and she'll have him, completely. But that's a worry for another day.*

And, well, you saw Amrita's family. Mother's dislike is not entirely unreasonable. Which isn't to say that they're all wholly provincial, but her family has been less than kind, considering the circumstances.

[fatalfrenzy.livejournal.com]

Oh, them. That one with the twins was hysterical. But you'll have your own little creatures crawling around soon enough.

*Sooner than was exactly proper, according to gossip. And mathematics. But Evan's always had less brains than, well. Thirst. She can't help an unladylike snigger at his expense.*

Anyway are you quite finished, sometime this month would be best.

[dapperdeath.livejournal.com]

*The leg drops unceremoniously to the floor the moment he's done with it.*

There. Perfect. Properly ghoulish, don't you think?

*He dusts off his hands and inclines his head, gesturing toward the fireplace.*

After you.

[fatalfrenzy.livejournal.com]

Lovely.

Thank you, Evan.

*She kicks aside one more bloodsoaked comic book as she crosses to the hearth, and throws in a fistful of powder before stepping neatly inside.*