snake in the roses

— rabastan hated muggle towns. he spent most of his time off in the lestrange or malfoy manors and tended to avoid muggle towns unless he had a mission. he even took babysitting narcissa’s kid over going into the muggle world. and narcissa’s son didn’t seem to like rabastan much. not that he cared for the opinion of a four-year-old.

but despite his distaste for children, he spent a decent amount of time around his sister-in-law, if only because she and dobby made better coffee than he did. plus, she often provided his alibis, along with those of rodolphus, bellatrix, and lucius.

rabastan hadn’t seen much of the town he’d come to for the hit, but he didn’t really need to see the town. it was small, and he doubted he’d have any taste for it anyways. glancing around at surroundings before responding to sybil, he took note of the dress shop. “ and i suppose that means you think it was me, ” he stated in response. “ i came from that direction, ” he gestured to the street opposite. “ after the flash. ”

but rabastan rolled his eyes, “ orders are orders. ” he watched her, noting the pride in her words, and watching her take a step away from him. “ do i scare you, sybil ? ” rabastan smirked, letting go of her shoulder where he’d grabbed her before.

     && - sybil wears the mask of a soft thing well - gentles the bladed edges with thick layers of honeyed words and the delicate floral parfume she wears and the soft curl of her tawny hair. “i never did say i thought it was you.” she replies, moving eyes from the silhouette of still feet and unmoving chest. a wave of muggles has gathered about the mouth of the alley - sybil believes someone has run off to call for the authorities.      “but if he was the sort i think, his death was certainly necessary.” sweet, high voice is kept quiet - for only the ears of herself and those of rabastian - but clear and unwavering. a delicate damsel she may play, but even the softest of pureblooded heiress are to hold that stiff loyalty alongside ever-straight spine. fingers come to tuck curled strands behind an ear as she looks at him with familiarity in her gaze. she’s known rabastian since childhood due to their shared blood purity. there’s little she fears, and certainly not from him. while sybil was known as one not to be trifled with in her school years she was never the most harsh slytherin, never the most randomly unkind. no - she had always played the role of soft-spoken, polite, haughty rich girl.      “scare me? no - there is nothing i have to fear from you, rabastian, i am certain of that.” she speaks with confidence, small smile still playing at her lips even as another look is cast in the direction of the body. “that sort simply revolts me, alive or dead. in all honesty i would like to be as far from it as possible.”

— rabastan lestrange was not known for being nice to his targets. he was one of voldemort’s most loyal followers for a reason. he was good at what he did, whether it was extracting information, or hunting down rebels. he’d been on the front with bellatrix and rodolphus during most of the battles, and his methods hadn’t changed much since.

he’d been sitting in the malfoy bakery when he’d gotten the owl informing him of his next target. narcissa was technically open for another hour, but a customer had started harassing himself and his sister-in-law, and rabastan had kicked them out with threats of hexes, followed by a wave of his hand to close the blinds and switch the sign from open to closed. he made comments about them likely being secret rebels and poured himself another coffee. but he excused himself with a number of apologies when the owl arrived, and as soon as he exited the bakery, he disapparated to the town the target was hiding out in.

black eyes peered through the shadows at the target’s house. viewing them as targets and not human made everything easier for him. as rabastan peered through the window, he watched the target wander through the apartment before finally putting on a coat and stepping outside. rabastan stepped out from the alley he’d hidden in, following his target through the streets in silence before finally wrapping an arm around the man’s neck, hand covering his mouth as rabastan dragged him into another alley. throwing his target to the ground, rabastan loomed over him.

“ nowhere left to go. there are anti-disapparation wards all around the town, ” rabastan smirked, pointing his wand at the man. “ any last words ? ” rabastan asked. listening to the man splutter, black eyes rolled. “ crucio !! ” the dark haired man exclaimed, watching as the target writhed. rabastan glared down at his target, scowling and with a flash of green, he vanished back into the shadows.

after stowing his mask and changing robes, rabastan emerged a street over, walking past as if he were just passing through and faking a chanced glance to the left as he passed the alley he’d killed his target in. feigning shock, her turned around with a shout. he grabbed the first person he saw, spinning them around to face him and faking wide, frantic eyes, “ hey !! did you see anything ?? i found him there, and- he’s dead !! ”

     && - she does not spend much time in muggle towns, much preferring to spend daylight hours at work, or at the estate, and night hours skulking through much hidden tunnels and through dark alley ways. but word of a rebel target hiding here had reached her ears the day before. it was never her objective to save him. that is far from what sybil does - putting herself on the line for those she does not even know beyond supposed affiliation. no, the only ones who gain her protection are those who earn uncertain and unlikely trust.      no - she had come out here under the pretense of visiting a bakery ( a small and hidden wizarding thing ) she oft came to as a child when family would travel to spend time in the country-side cottage that lies not too far south of the town. the reality of showing up in town several hours earlier and moving through bakeries and small boutiques alike as an alibi was to see who the new order would send after the rebel. perhaps the others would dislike her more than she knows some of them do if they knew she simply let an ally die, but the death is necessary. is strategic.      the flash of green catches the corner of her eye and causes sybil to cease her walking down the street and linger across the way. arms are heavy with shopping bags and she examines a dress in the window of a shop until familiar voice catches her ear and a hand her arm. when he spins her she glances across the way at the mouth of the alley and blinks. “i did see the light, mr lestrange,” voice is kept soft and polite, but not too concerned. then a smile crosses pretty face.      “i take it this was his bidding?” when she says it, it is with a sort of pride, a sort of gladness at the idea of a rebel being slain under the orders of voldemort. she is a skilled actress, though, and there lingers a sort of mild unease at the proximity to a corpse in her eyes. sybil skirts a half-step back despite the smile.

▵ — Edgar may not have been able to see the Whither Family Estate, but he could feel it. He’d heard enough about it, at least, to believe he could feel it. He supposed it felt a lot like Sybil herself - larger than expected, a maze to strangers, all dead ends and sharp corners. Edgar’s connections to the Rebellion were slimmer than he liked, even if that did make things easier - but he knew about Sybil. It was hard not to know about someone like Sybil. But she was good at hiding. If he wasn’t who he was, he might have never guessed she was a rebel.

      Edgar was careful when he entered the estate gardens, using his better senses to find her in the back gardens. He kept his white cane with him for show, as he always did when he was anywhere in public. Nobody could know how well he functioned despite his blindness. When her honey voice greeted him he couldn’t help but think of the dripping venom that came with it, poisoning any semblance of genuine kindness she might have been hoping to exhibit.

      “Not the house elves,” Edgar said, shaking his head and giving a half-hearted laugh. “I found my way back here when no one answered the door. Might want to re-think the hiding place, if even I can find you. I hear under the bed is a good one.”

     && - she recognizes edgar bones in half a moment - the line of his cane, the glasses that stand stark against his skin, the gait of someone taking just half a moment longer to forge a path due to waiting to determine if there are any obstacles. the smile remains on her face despite the fact he cannot see it - all rosy lips and quirked corners - and she gives a jovially put-upon sigh.      “i suppose i will have to speak with ninmey about being sure to answer the door when someone knocks,” there must be a reason the house elf decided against answering - sybil will ask about it. an unkind person she may be, but sybil likes to think she treats the house elves in her home with more respect and kindness than many other wealthy pureblood families. anyone works better when they are not shaking with fear too heavily to properly carry a tea tray. “my apologies that no one greeted you, mr bones!”      she had been made aware someone was on the property as soon as he stepped foot over her wards. some other might have rushed back to the estate, might have drawn wand to be at the ready should attack launch, but not her. there is little to fear from either side. the rebels use her information too often for them to turn on her, and the new order has no reason to doubt her loyalty. head tips at him in honest curiosity.      “under the bed is where one hides from monsters, not for a little privacy.” tone is mild, light, friendly. there’s something about edgar bones that strikes her as...different. not simply because he is blind, but because of how he carries himself. how he acts. what research she has done into him ( most covert and involving more than files and history ) has left the suspicion that he is more than he seems in the back of her mind. “besides, i’m sure you are more skilled at finding things than most would believe on first sight.”

Alastair: Ah, no. There's a change of situation. It's just me.

Sybil: Oh, am I sad or not sad?

His attempt at not causing alarm by staying away from the word centaur was not working so well. Maybe by his last house he’d get it just right. Worry was beginning to creep across the woman’s face and Amos set his cuppa down to calm any fears that might be stirring in her. “I apologize, I didn’t mean to cause any alarm by being so vague.” Occasionally people tended to imagine they had seen something when he told them beforehand what they could have seen. “Please, let me assure you that you shouldn’t be concerned whatsoever by the possibility of thieves.”

Amos’ eyes couldn’t help but make a sweep around the property, thinking that just one of those family heirlooms was likely worth what he brought home in a year. “There’s been reports of centaurs in this area, they usually tend to avoid being around humans but for whatever reason they’ve left their reservation. I assume then that you haven’t seen any half horse, half men coming around and predicting the end of wizarding society as we know it?” He passed the last line off as a joke, because to him it was. This New Order business was scary but he didn’t believe in soothsaying or divination. The few people who had come into contact with the rogue centaurs had reported to Amos predictions of the end of days, fire and brimstone, and other catastrophic fear mongering. He didn’t know what their angle was, his best guess was to get wizarding families off these lands so the beasts could take them for themselves.

     && - and with those words faux fear creeps off of her face - a slight tint of it remains in tight corners of her lips. sybil is a careful woman, adept at maintaining a certain air about her. the air of an heiress, a pretty little doll that really doesn’t need her ministry job, but does it for the thrill. it’s a carefully constructed persona that, in all honesty, sybil is quite fond of. being underestimated is a good thing in wars. if the enemy doesn’t anticipate a strike they will have no defenses in place for it. lips purse as he speaks of centaurs and she takes a sip of her tea, sweetened obscenely with honey.      “centaurs? how unsettling! have they been sighted nearby?” a pause, as if a thought catches her mind, “ - i suppose we will have to reinforce the wards. what nasty business! my apologies, ah, no, i have seen no centaurs lurking about. is there any specific procedure to follow should a pack of them come by? i’m quite alone in the house, besides the house elves, and it sounds as if i could be rather outnumbered by them.” a tenuous string of fear threads itself through the words - as if conflict is something to be avoided at all costs. another part of her false naivety. sybil has gone to quite the lengths to keep this act up, asking all persons she obliviates to be secured in a room before she does the job, asking some of the more meat headed aurors to stand guard outside. a damsel is never a threat.

Sif: No one's blowing up villages.

Her hand was soft as velvet, clearly she hadn’t ever worked in this garden herself. “Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Beast Division,” he said in one breath, a well practiced tradition. “It’s quite the mouthful.” She did look familiar now that he looked at her longer. Obliviators always had the best stories, in his opinion, and whenever they invited him to join them for a drink after work he accepted without hesitation.

“Tea would be lovely, thank you.” Sybil was the first person to offer him refreshments. An elf two houses back had given him a biscuit but he was dying of thirst. He sat down beneath the tree and looked out over the colorful garden, admiring the view. “I’m just here to ask if you’ve had any disturbances on your property lately, any theft or vandalism?” Amos didn’t want to come outright and say there had been reports of centaurs in the area. If she hadn’t had any issues yet then there was no need to worry her unnecessarily, though the words theft and vandalism weren’t particularly comforting.

     && - “quite the mouthful, indeed.” sybil echoes with a soft laugh. she’s never worked too much with anyone in the beast division, or really anyone who deals in magical creatures. the obliviations she preforms are generally on criminals, or those who spotted something they ought not have seen. as he moves she does, striding beside him to the table. a wave of her wand has teapot floating to the cup nearest his seat and filling it - leaving enough room for milk or honey, should he want them.      as she sinks into the seat opposite him and he begins talking, a pinch of what could be taken as concern furrows her brow. such an odd question to begin with. there must be something wrong - to do with some loosed creature or creatures - that has sent this amos diggory out to speak with her. odd. the fact he’s skirting ‘round the point inspires little trust that all is well. though, those who believe all is well are fools who deserve what comes to them. “i cannot say that i have. as far as i am aware nothing has come in contact with my wards - other than you, and the occasional visitor.” voice is kept light, though she does throw in a tint of worry. “has something happened? you must understand my concern at such an odd question - my family has a great many heirlooms and artefacts within the estate that could draw attention of thieves.”      sybil plays the rich girl so well - concerned first and foremost with her estate and what lies within. it is a smoke screen most have trouble peering through, deployed alongside the sweet warmth of her voice and polite mannerisms. little pureblood princesses rarely sully their hands with things like rebellions. it seems funny to her - the best disguise she could have asked for came to her as birthright.

The centaur case Amos had been assigned this week was really sending him on quite the journey. To keep from causing a mass panic—and to avoid a messy article in the Prophet—he had been sent to Apparate door to door to warn them there was a gang of centaurs roaming outside of their territory and to advise protection charms be put up in case the creatures did venture that way.

It was gorgeous country up here, manors surrounded by sprawling gardens that Amos couldn’t help but envy. By the time he was at his sixth house he expected to be greeted by a house elf so it was no surprise when that was exactly what happened. “Yes, one did.” Damn, she was so wealthy there was more than one elf working here, that was something Amos couldn’t even imagine being his own life. “Amos Diggory,” he said with a charming smile, sticking his hand out for her to shake. “Might I borrow a few minutes of your time? I only have a short message to share from the Ministry and then I’ll let you get back to… your day.” What did a day in the life of this woman exactly entail? He shook off the thought and waited patiently for the go ahead to continue with his business.

     && - the man’s charming grin is met with one of her own, curl of rosy lips as she reaches to give his hand a firm shake with one of her own dainty hands. a good handshake is important if you are rich and oft attend meetings with ministry higher ups - a weak one makes you seem shifty, untrustworthy. that is something sybil cannot afford. “sybil whither, it’s good to meet you, mr diggory - may i ask which branch you work under? i am employed by the ministry as an obliviator, you’ve managed to catch me on my day off.”      explanation comes soft as she nods and releases his hand to motion at a more shaded section of this corner of the gardens. an ancient willow tree stands tall and casts dancing shadows across the garden. a small wrought iron table and matching chair sit in the shade, a pot and several tea setting placed around it. the house elves are always ready for company to drop by. “how about we step out of the sun for some tea whilst you explain?”

fool: what's the biggest risk you've ever taken?

magician: list 3 of your talents

high priestess: do you pay more attention to your heart or your mind?

empress: how dependent are you on others?

emperor: describe your relationship with your father

hierophant: do you value tradition?

lovers: does someone need to share your values for you to pursue a relationship?

chariot: in what situations are you most assertive?

strength: how impulsive are you?

hermit: what are you like when you're alone?

wheel of fortune: how's your luck?

justice: do you value fairness over mercy?

hanged man: how do you feel about martyrs?

death: do you like change?

temperance: do you tend to focus on the past, present, or future?

devil: is there anything you're addicted to?

tower: what do you most want to change about yourself?

star: what religious beliefs do you have?

moon: do you have any recurrent dreams?

sun: do you believe optimism is always good?

judgement: how confident are you in yourself?