My name is Augustus Rookwood and I am a pure blood wizard. I also happen to be a Death Eater in the service of the Dark Lord.
Once upon a time I was an Unspeakable, for those of you who do not know what that is, I will tell you. I worked in the Department of Mysteries for the Ministry of Magic. That is, until a fellow Death Eater, by the name of Igor Karkaroff, sold my name to the Ministry to buy his freedom from Azkaban. But, do not worry, he received his...Punishment.
After I was betrayed, I spent several years in Azkaban. Until the day that my Master came for me and those other, loyal followers, who were locked within the walls of Azkaban. Now I am out of Azkaban once more, serving the Dark Lord in his endeavor to become the one true Lord of the Wizarding World.
So I leave those, who would stand in the way of the Dark Lord's goals, a word of caution. Make sure you are on the right side and that side is ours.
𝕸 i s t r e s s 𝖀 o l d e m o r t α я σ ѕ є αмσиg т н σ я и ѕ . . .
● ● ● Admittedly, she wasn’t entirely convinced. She couldn’t pinpoint as to why but Augustus’ lack of information only served to heighten the sense of fear she had for him. The Dark Lord. “I don’t know,” she mumbled quietly, turning to the side, pulling from her robes a silver box of which she withdrew a long silver cigarette. Somehow, she was able to force a smile, laugh even. “I don’t know. It sounds stupid, it sounds so foolish but -- it is though I can feel something has changed. It frightens me.” On that thought, she placed the vice to her lips, using the tip of her wand to spark the tobacco, inhaling deeply.
“You see,” Lemily continued after a short time, “I don’t ever want to doubt him…but…” Plumes of grey lingered upon leaving her mouth, so that the woman was shadowed by a glittering, ever-shifting haze. “If anything were ever to happen to him, though I know that it couldn’t. There is no life for me Augustus. I -- I do not fear dying.” She quietly chuckled, bemusing herself. “What I fear, most of all, is a life without him.”
[ I hope you have a fantastic birthday by the way~ ]
Holli grinned, watching the man for a moment or two before speaking up, "Pleasure, I like that... Yeah, you could say that this is purely of pleasure." The blond cooed as she looked into his eyes.
𝕸 i s t r e s s 𝖀 o l d e m o r t α я σ ѕ є αмσиg т н σ я и ѕ . . .
● ● ● Lemily hung back at Augustus' question, hand winding it's way about the ornaments and trinkets displayed upon the mantle. Paused in her thoughts, her movements too, stilled and silence came swooping between the old friends. "I am troubled," she replied, softly, carefully, honestly. "I am worried." Lemily's hand came to cover her mouth, eyes suddenly watering, wavering. "The Dark Lord -- I fear for his safety..." And for Lemily, it was unusual to speak of the Dark Lord openly, with others, no matter her closeness and love for him, her feelings and thoughts remained private, a secret. Still, it seemed to hard this time to keep her feelings shut up tight. For once, this very once, she doubted the promises Voldemort made to her, to all of them. For once, Lemily was frightened. "Have you heard any news of him?"
The blond woman grinned to the stranger, "I'm doing alright, I guess you could say." She said, taking in the scent of the smoke from his cigarette, it reminded her so much of her home in Cool World, and the night club in which she danced at almost nightly. Holli took a long swig from the amber bottle of rum in her hand before returning her eyes to the well dressed Brit.
𝕸 i s t r e s s 𝖀 o l d e m o r t α я σ ѕ є αмσиg т н σ я и ѕ . . .
● ● ● Lemily smiled warmly at the sight of Rookwood, approaching with confidence through the orange glow of the fire. He may have been frightening -- or unnerving to some, but to her, he was nothing less than a saviour and protector. If they were legend, he would be her Lancelot, and her, the Lady of Shallot. Tragedy in it's subtle, most beautiful form. And she requested nothing from him at this time. Lemily, unlike the other Death Eaters, rarely requested a thing. Despite holding a notable ranking among the inner circle, Lemily was not at all demanding or domineering. In fact, she seemed to drift through life as though carried by a light breeze, through both the good and most certainly the bad. "It's been a while," she purred. "How have you been, my friend?"
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α я σ ѕ є αмσиg т н σ я и ѕ . . .
● ● ●
Admittedly, she wasn’t entirely convinced. She couldn’t pinpoint as to why but Augustus’ lack of information only served to heighten the sense of fear she had for him. The Dark Lord. “I don’t know,” she mumbled quietly, turning to the side, pulling from her robes a silver box of which she withdrew a long silver cigarette. Somehow, she was able to force a smile, laugh even. “I don’t know. It sounds stupid, it sounds so foolish but -- it is though I can feel something has changed. It frightens me.” On that thought, she placed the vice to her lips, using the tip of her wand to spark the tobacco, inhaling deeply.
“You see,” Lemily continued after a short time, “I don’t ever want to doubt him…but…” Plumes of grey lingered upon leaving her mouth, so that the woman was shadowed by a glittering, ever-shifting haze. “If anything were ever to happen to him, though I know that it couldn’t. There is no life for me Augustus. I -- I do not fear dying.” She quietly chuckled, bemusing herself. “What I fear, most of all, is a life without him.”
[ I hope you have a fantastic birthday by the way~ ]
α я σ ѕ є αмσиg т н σ я и ѕ . . .
● ● ●
Lemily hung back at Augustus' question, hand winding it's way about the ornaments and trinkets displayed upon the mantle. Paused in her thoughts, her movements too, stilled and silence came swooping between the old friends. "I am troubled," she replied, softly, carefully, honestly. "I am worried." Lemily's hand came to cover her mouth, eyes suddenly watering, wavering. "The Dark Lord -- I fear for his safety..." And for Lemily, it was unusual to speak of the Dark Lord openly, with others, no matter her closeness and love for him, her feelings and thoughts remained private, a secret. Still, it seemed to hard this time to keep her feelings shut up tight. For once, this very once, she doubted the promises Voldemort made to her, to all of them. For once, Lemily was frightened. "Have you heard any news of him?"
How do you do?
α я σ ѕ є αмσиg т н σ я и ѕ . . .
● ● ●
Lemily smiled warmly at the sight of Rookwood, approaching with confidence through the orange glow of the fire. He may have been frightening -- or unnerving to some, but to her, he was nothing less than a saviour and protector. If they were legend, he would be her Lancelot, and her, the Lady of Shallot. Tragedy in it's subtle, most beautiful form. And she requested nothing from him at this time. Lemily, unlike the other Death Eaters, rarely requested a thing. Despite holding a notable ranking among the inner circle, Lemily was not at all demanding or domineering. In fact, she seemed to drift through life as though carried by a light breeze, through both the good and most certainly the bad. "It's been a while," she purred. "How have you been, my friend?"
Rookwood, my dearest friend. heart