Black Bird

“Look, if you’re too drunk to even remember how to take a drink, I’m going to cut you off. So I’d think about you’re next decision.” He told the person on the other side of the bar.

“Rough night, huh?” Mary noted, sidling up on the barstool beside the young man trying to order what she could only just make out, sounded something like a cuba libre, not that either of them could be truly certain. “How many times tonight have you had to repeat the mantra I love my job, just to keep yourself sane? I managed eight times today alone.” Not that she hated her job, she actually really loved it -- that, however, didn’t negate the fact that she was certain her brain almost exploded just as many times in a single day. “When’re you off? I’m under strict orders to steal you away after closing.”

“What am I doing?” He repeated, looking at the person who had asked. “Just heading to the library for some books. Is that… okay?” Remus didn’t really know why the person had asked him about his intentions, thus explaining the slight confusion in his words. 

Amusement flooded her features at Remus’ and his confusion, “That was more of a... what’re you doing, can I come hang with you than a, what’re you doing you’re not supposed to be doing that. I know, I get it..--- you and the others probably hear the latter way too much, but for once I’m not here to totally tell you, that you’re doing something dumb.” The gentle tilt of her head paired with a softened smile all she offered before gesturing for him to keep going. “So, can I come?”

The promise lay in his eyes; not so outspoken was he to say that he wouldn’t bring her with him off the ledge- but perhaps it was an offering. And her answer lay in whether she’d push. It was the cliff’s edge of her freedom that he stood on now, watching as she spoke, silent in response. She could choose to break her own chains and join him on the wild side or stay there and let him be his own destruction. Either way, he was going to fall. And as she stepped forth, palm outstretched, he grinned. The grip he had released without second guessing it, his hand reaching for his wand just before he slipped off the edge. 

Time seemed to slow as the wind whistled past his ears, sending his already rushing heart beat into the sky that fell away from him. He’d tossed the glass to count how long it would take to crash into the concrete below; eight seconds. Just before he hit the ground, he apparated himself back up onto the terrace, landing neatly on his knees.  Breath trapped in his throat escaped in a loud woosh, a laugh followed as he stood. “Mmmm. Not as good as you think,” he tapped his temple, chuckling still as the high wore down with each passing second. “Nothing quite like coming face to face with death is there. Tell me, Mary, did you enjoy that?”

There might have been more shock that existed in the cavern of her own chest as palms that seconds before met the solid expanse of his chest, grew cold. Cold in the knowledge that she’d almost barely had to think twice, and colder still in that she didn’t know whether such shock bloomed in the wake of her pushing Amycus Carrow from a damn building; or that she almost didn’t care. Nevertheless, the exuberant patter of her heart against the inside of her chest left her near breathless as hands curled tightly around the edge of the building, though she didn’t dare look over the edge. “Please be alive.. please be alive..” Muttered beneath her breath, even if the twist in her chest almost hoped he wasn’t. There were far too many differences in meeting a man like Carrow at the tip of their wants, and straight-up pushing a man to their possible death. And though she teetered the edge of inner turmoil over it, there was no mistaking the electricity burning up her spine.  The same electricity that sparked in the palms of her hands as she heard the sharp pop behind her. Turning almost too slowly, Mary seethed the burning annoyance that he.. was still here and that he’d made her do that in the first place. Which, was an embellishment, of course, he hadn’t forced her hand at all, but she’d happily stick to that notion in her head. She pushed away from the side of the building, heels clicking against the stone floor, “Nothing like it at all..” She’d seen death; felt it tear at her insides and even now, the thought alone made her feel ill.  Doe hues narrowed as she stopped a few feet shy of his form, difficult to work out whether he was foolish... or living a life that was somehow fuller than most. His reckless abandon painting a world most wouldn’t dare attempt, self-preservation and all. Had she enjoyed it? No.. No, she didn’t, but that certainly didn’t mean she didn’t want to feel that momentary rush again. “---Go choke on a cocktail olive, Carrow.”

@mcrymxc

Caradoc strove in his every day life to help those he could when they needed it. And while he mostly kept to himself at Order Meetings, he had taken notice to Mary Mac. She was young, vibrant, full of life but- deeply wounded. He didn’t know why, or what had been done to her, or even how recent it had been. But he had seen eyes like hers in victims of the Death Eaters. Nearly daily now. It was easy for someone who wasn’t in his profession to miss; but he saw it. The haunting that lay there, just beneath the surface. And he wanted to help. Somehow.  So he settled next to her at the long table, a spot usually empty, and smiled softly. “Hey. Do you have a minute?”

It was something she’d taken note of a long time ago. Never taken offense to, but definitely noticed. It never really mattered how long it’d been, even some of her closest friends felt the itch of uncertainty whenever it came to order meetings on whether they’d find themselves, or finding Mary in high spirits, or if something mentioned would trigger something within her that she couldn’t just shut out as she usually did. Unfortunatey for her, the timely mention of another attack, with several torture victims being taken to Mungo’s and the trail having gone cold, left her a little more hollow than the smile she wore could hide. “Hm?” She noted quietly, turning to Caradoc as he took a set beside her, “Of course. I could probably spare more than one, use up as many as you’d like. What’s up?”

Loc: Honeydukes

Who: OPEN

The hum of excitement and fluttering children did nothing to soothe Amycus’ frazzled nerves. If anything it made him dance further on the edge of the knife’s blade. Crowds made him uneasy when he wasn’t masked and though he fully realized what Holiday it was, he hadn’t once dressed up and he wasn’t about to start now. He’d only stopped in the shop to grab a lemon pop- something to keep his mouth busy so it didn’t spout off some bullshit that would get him into trouble and really this was all to pass the time until Midnight. He felt a light tap on his leg and glanced down to see a small child at his hip. “Mister! Are you Merlin?” 

He laughed, sticking the pop into his mouth before brushing past the child and it’s mother, nearly knocking another person over in the process. Not his fault, they should have moved out of his way. “You mind?”

Truly, she’d almost completely missed the almost charming chaos of Halloween altogether. Perhaps a little unlike her, but her mind had been all over the place lately; Mary Mac, out of sorts -- a recurring happenstance apparently. However, this time she’d been able to bury it within the confines of work. The endless cases that piled at the edge of her desk likely the only thing to take her mind off of the fact that, she was fairly certain a poltergeist had crept up and made itself at home within her apartment, that, or someone was serious in their efforts to play a prank on her. Reminder to self; question the boys over it. With her thoughts running away from her, all she’d managed to maintain in any sense of costume for the holiday, was a small painting on her cheek. A young boy had incidentally caught sight of her hours beforehand and traipsed over claiming that his mother could paint her face too. The paint now charmed to glisten in the lights of Hogsmeade as if the mermaid scales truly were real. 

Evan’s fingers twitched around his glass as his gaze leveled back on her, brow perking up just slightly to indicate his annoyance that she was still standing there. Though he’d gotten the mark on his arm he didn’t feel quite right, quite like he fit among those who masked themselves. At least, not yet. Perhaps because it was so new or perhaps because he’d been shunned by every single one of those bastards for the entirety of his life up until this point. Then again- he’d never felt like he belonged anywhere. And therein lied the problem when she lumped him in with the pack of them. It was meant to be a joke- a cruel one, of course, but a joke none-the-less. And he was exhausted with the idea that everyone who got the chance decided exactly who he was because of his blood. He’d never judged them. The least courtesy they could give was that they didn’t turn the tables on him. “Right, of course, because we are all the same. Just like you muggleborns are all the same, right? Last I fuckin’ heard you and Nate were thick as nifflers. What happened? Oh wait, I don’t give a shite. Can you go fling yourself off the balcony?”

The truth was, Mary had never been as judgmental as she was now before it happened. She’d had no reason to back then, not until her sense of trust and reality had been so promptly shattered by someone she trusted surrounded by a pack of them. It’d jaded her, clouded her vision in a way that she’d never thought possible and even if she didn’t know the first thing about Evan, she knew that despite his history with some of her closest friends, James.. Dorcas, he’d become something else entirely and found himself among those that milled about the Malfoy’s engagement party as if he belonged there. Interesting --- that he’d used the word muggleborn instead of the term so often used by those beyond the door to make attempt to hurt or scar, but she couldn’t focus on that while he so... readily pointed a finger in the wrong direction when it came to her and Nate. It burnt at her fingertips and she had to curl fingertips into the palm of her hand to stop herself from trembling at how sick the idea was. Baited breath caught her words and instead, she stepped forward and cast the enclosed fist once trapped at her side into the center of his face.  It blossomed pain in her fist and the breath she held fell ragged as doe hues caught him in a glare far more venomous than Mary could manage on a bad day. “I might be no better than you in making assumptions, but if you’re going to make them,” the clench of her teeth bit back at the bile in her throat, “the least you could do is be even close to the truth. Don’t... don’t.. ever, talk about him and I in the same sentence.. ever.”

Never had anyone been so bold as she when demanding he turn his gaze away from the party across the hall. All its festive coloring offered a reprieve from the dull and lifeless that was most assuredly Lucius’ doing. The shock he offered was not feigned by any means- and he thought to put the raven haired vixen in her rightful place but bit back the retort for the sake of keeping sanity between the two opposing parties. Certainly, if any of those he even held marginally close came to call, it would not be pretty for her. Though, from what he’d heard, she wasn’t doing to well either way. “Don’t you have something better to do?” He countered, “like sucking the next available cock presented to you? Why don’t I go fetch your boyfriend.” He turned leaning toward the entryway of the engagement party, calling out quite boisterously, “Hey Nate! Got a friend over here for you.”

It certainly wasn’t the path she’d intended to go down, but with everything going on right now, Mary couldn’t quite find the self control needed to bite her tongue and simply move on. She’d done that before, when they were younger -- when she was considered whole and innocent. Now? Now she wore scars that would make swallowing her pride all the more difficult. “Cute, it must be hard for you, falling so short all the time. Even I expected something a little wittier.” Though veins turned to ice at Nathaniel’s name on his tongue, it wouldn’t be noted on the outside. I’ll never be that weak again. And she hadn’t, “I forgot you guys all travel in packs, get one on their own and the shelf life dwindles exponentially, but by all means, if you need help then go get him.”

Mary’s spitefire was cute at best. She could not be terrifying if she tried, but he strange feeling she wasn’t really trying and all that liquor she’d consumed had simply opened up a floodgate she’d kept closed for too long. Casual threats did nothing but amuse the elder male, dark eyes shifting from the edge of oblivion to her and that cheeky little grin that prefaced another biting remark. “You’ve got a lot of room to talk, don’t you? Out of the two of us, you’re the only drunk one I see. What does that say about your friends?” 

He’d never pretend to be kind. “Empty promises, MacDonald. Empty. Promises.” Another chuckle broke through, eyes sliding up and down her form. Like a hunter and prey, but the question was, who was who in this scenario. He tossed the glass over the side next, before lifting one leg over the railing and followed quickly with the other. Hands gripped the stone and he grinned at her from the other side. “Push me then, if you’re so inclined.” 

She wasn’t drunk, nor nearly close to it. A lopsided tipsy at best, somewhere in the realm of being able to make very conscious choices, while very well not caring much about them in the first place. A soft roll of her eyes and a bitter taste on her tongue left Mary with little else to do than consider Amycus Carrow little more than the little boy turning insults over purely for lack of anything of his own to contribute. “I’’m barely drunk, I don’t even like the stuff.” Unlike so many, she never sought to bury demons in her own intoxication, but celebration called for it and the gift of a child was certainly worth celebrating. “Let’s not make any mistakes in comparing our friends, I just needed air --- but you seem to have wandered out here for no other reason than to ponder..--- that.” She noted, fingertips gesturing to the edge of the balcony.  It was, curious to say the least, despite how much ire she held for him, for any of them. “Don’t be so sure.” Mary wasn’t so terribly new at being underestimated; she knew she didn’t look like much. A wallflower, perhaps, but she’d fought damn hard to remain that way for reasons her own. The brunette paused, watching almost haphazardly as he put on some big show of shifting himself to quite literally hang the balance of the building itself. “You know, I’ve know a lot of you have death wishes, but this is taking it all a little bit literally, don’t you think?” Every step nearer she took was near subconscious in effort, until Mary could peer barely an inch forward to see the hurtling height they stood at. The glint in his eye --- the smirk, everything she hated in those people; as if they were completely untouchable. “I suppose a promise is a promise, isn’t it?” The tilt of her voice as she spoke broken with every vying memory of what’d been done to her; innocence lost, a childhood shattered, continuously beaten down by the fact that there was never any way to hide even the smallest detail, such a public attack had spread long and far well before she’d even woken up and before she’d even thought to breathe after speaking, opened palms caught him roughly across the chest as she shoved him free of any grip he might have had.

“Then you’ll be a skeleton.” Severus bit back just as easily, moving to the occupied seat next to her to give another customer their drink. As he passed it over the bar, he turned his gaze to her and smiled, “A lot like that, Mary. This is my job, you know. To serve people drinks. Or are you more concerned with why a certain raven haired man trusts me?” A brow raised, defiance settling on his shoulders the harder she pushed at buttons that were already broken from other’s doing much the same. Focusing on his looks; what a crock of shit. “Really? And what is it you think I’m doing to the drinks, Mary? Hm? Please, tell me. And I didn’t realize a club with dancers in cages had much of a reputation to uphold. I work here, what’s your excuse?”

Better a skeleton than being drugged or poisoned, as if anyone who knew Severus --- though Mary certainly didn’t know him that well, but just enough to not trust a single thing about him; even if that stemmed mostly from what she knew of his closest friend. A brow rose and she settled her shoulders a little, “I couldn’t care less why he trusts you.” A man untrustworthy in itself, it didn’t take a genius to work out why they might have been such a pair. “Merlin knows, you’ve got all the opportunity in the world to do anything you wanted to them. I doubt poison is your style, you don’t quite seem that ballsy, but I can’t imagine anything good could come of it anyway.” Irrational; she knew, but anything that even slightly stemmed from the demon of her past left her irrational at best. “That must be why you’re serving drinks and not running things, hm?” A deft roll of hues left her sighing as she somewhat gave up the hardened shell, “--- I was dragged here against my will, just my luck really.”

“We’re out of popcorn again.” Which mostly meant, Mary had eaten it all almost subconsciously. Habits died hard and she’d never seemingly been able to stop her hand dipping straight back into the bowl over and over again almost mindlessly until she hit the bottom. Moments passed and doe hues near glared at the empty bowl sat between them, as if it might magically refill itself. “You know, I really wish they’d taught us how to replenish everything like they did back at school. I don’t know about anyone else, but I could sure as hell use a spell to have never ending popcorn over being able to turn a feather into a rat.” Rambling..-- Rambly Mary Mac, in the flesh, curled into the sofa beside James, the scattered mess in front of them tribute to how long they’d been there, and how long they intended to stay -- she wouldn’t leave until he asked her to; not knowing how it felt. Instead, she smiled and lent back animatedly, back arched until she almost hung upside down, motioning towards the kitchen. “It’s just..--- too... far.” Defeated, she shifted back with a hefty sigh, “You think you want anything else? ‘Cause if I move.. and you change your mind when I get back, I’ll smother myself with a pillow.”

Being noteworthy because of a name was not something that Amycus cared for. Especially since that same namesake had seen him in the dredges of the poor and unkempt with little care for how it would affect him later. As soon as they’d been old enough to hold a job- they’d been stripped of the stability that came with a constant flow of money. And how little the Ministry paid wages, even to those who kept what secrets the unspeakables did. It was laughable, and he intended to make sure that his family know how badly they’d messed up. 

“It isn’t,” he replied coolly, dumping the whiskey over the terrace, “I’m drinking because it’s a social event. Not because I need to.” Carrow knew what horrors she’d been through. Had been saddled with handing them to Mulciber. It wasn’t uncommon, and he did like to think that anyone who had such a connection to another was a weakness. And weakness would need to be stamped out the moment it was found. He did not pity her, nor did he exalt Nathanial for what he’d had to do. It was a necessary evil. “Oh? My eyes are pretty are they? First time I’ve heard that. Not the first time I’ve been threatened with stilettos.” He turned his gaze away from her and toward the zooming cars below. “Ever wondered what it was like to fall, Mary?”

“Really? With the company you keep, I’d have to be drunk all the time,” Not that he was even slightly better, and as if her own comment served as a reminder, she brought the flute to her lips.  She wasn’t drunk enough for this, yet neither sober enough to be more than aware that this wasn’t any sense of a situation she ever wanted to be in. Alone, with a Carrow. As much spine and backbone as she might have grown over the years, foolish she’d never hoped to be and yet... “I mean,” lips pursed, dark tresses slipped across her shoulder as her head tipped to the side slightly, “I personally think they’d look better in a jar but... what do I know?”  An arm crawled across her stomach, the slight chill in the air battling the warring elements of her slight intoxication and leaving her uncertain whether she was even cold or not. Fingertips pressing into the fabric of her cocktail dress, smoothing the fabric as she took another drink. At first, she thought he might leave -- a passing moment of silence a heaven sent until she realized she’d been wrong. She wasn’t ready to go back inside, and stubborneity always won out. “If you’re that curious, I wouldn’t be against pushing you.” A slow tap of her finger against the crystal glass in her hand mottled by the lowly hum in her throat. “--- I figure it’d be something like a rollercoaster but.. you know, with death awaiting you at the end instead of a loop ‘de loop.”