SELF PARA: VALENTINE’S DANCE ( RAZIELA ).
raziela lestrange isn’t anything less than you’d expect. a spitting image of her father, his hatred and his causal cruelty. N O T H I N G like her mother, her disdain for war and her aged distaste for violence. raziela quickly shoves away any thoughts of her poor, undoubtedly exhausted mother. it works because one glance towards her father and uncle makes up for everything. in her eyes there is a sickening joy; something you only see in H O R R O R movies, as the eleven-year-old cowers in fear below her wrath.
a mudblood. nothing but filth and unfortunate circumstance, a pesky thing never meant to exist. not in this world, not in her world.
the child sobs harshly yet no sound comes out as the teenager continues her shining reign of terror. hesitation is not in her bones, and her body and mind work together seamlessly without conscience. did raziela ever have a conscience? she doesn’t find it in herself to care as another terrified shriek clouds the nighttime air, because she understands a conscience isn’t of any use. and the predatory grin, full of sharp teeth, that tugs at her lips tells us the answer we already know.
d e a t h. raziela isn’t a stranger to it, to the chaos and grieving it brings. she enjoys it; completely and utterly thriving in other peoples heartache.
as she venomously sneers the unforgivable, she could swear she hears her uncle whisper to her father, quiet yet joyous. just as her own sinister and dark eyes flicker to identical pairs, “the look in her eyes reminds me of bellatrix.” rodolphus agrees fondly, a smile ghosts his features if only for a fleeting moment, before he switches back to a stern face. it’s enough for raziela. he knows this, of course. he’s been using it to his advantage since the father-daughter duo reunited, but still he’s proud to have such a excellent progeny.
pride is an ugly thing, and in this case it’s the ugliest. she’s proud of herself, of the others for this; maggie especially, because raziela knows it was the younger’s first MURDER. a milestone in anyone’s life. she looks up at rodolphus and rabastan one more time, eagerly searching for rightfully earned approval and is overly satisfied when she finds it. her gaze finds orcus next, her cousin ( --- he’s more like her uncle at this point, because the age-gap doesn’t help. ); they share an understanding nod. one that certainly means “i won’t tell nadine about this.”
she appreciates it.
















