#proditeur.

was he ... no ... unless ... ? oh god. he totally was. he stands up, straightening his back and resting one hand on his hip, gesturing wildly with his other, ❝ why the hell would my webs come out of my backdoor ?!?!? ❞

HE SPITS OUT THE BLOOD THAT FILLS HIS MOUTH and wipes his lips with the back of his hand. red streaks across his gloves and his hair, once clean-cut and smoothed back, falls unkempt in front of his face. he grins something sadistic, something wolf-like, and his eyes glint with the excitement of a fight that proves a challenge.

. * ✧ ❤ — for @proditeur​ harry + regulus

anger,   harry had realized,   did not properly convey the feeling of darkness in the pit of his stomach that had formed in the wake of professor dumbledore’s death.   he thought he’d known grief,   believed after everything he’d been through there was no deeper despair that could touch him.   and yet,   here he sat,   across from a boy who appeared not much older than him,   whose efforts to hurt voldemort had aided in weakening the one man who faired a chance at scaring him. 

peter perches in the rafters, gazing down at the small group huddled below. they talk in hushed whispers and he finds that he can't shake the feeling that they had a [ ... ] weird air about them. his body tells him to turn tail and run, which usually meant that, now more than ever, he needed to stay. he crouches lower just to hear a little bit better when, inexplicably, one of the men is flipped upside down. he squints, on second thought, not inexplicably.

peter's seen this before. it seemed he wouldn't just be dealing with one set of villains tonight.

well, that's my cue ! he drops down, ❝ geez guys i can't believe you'd get together without me ! all these vespera meetings i've been crashing, i was startin' to think we had something special ! ❞ he dodges a few blows thrown in his direction and webs the culprits to the floor. when he turns to take care of the rest of them, he learns the new special guest has instead.

he flops down on the couch, falling over the armrest with a loud groan of annoyance that is nearly immediately interrupted by the other's offer. he perks up, lifting just his head, ❝ what sort of juice ? is it apple juice ? is it fancy apple juice ? ❞

159.251.59.125

❝ i loathe seeing you. ❞ there were very few people he didn't loathe seeing — if he could sew the lips shut of every person around him except for his crows, he thought he would. however, the scent of wealth trailed behind regulus dupois so thickly that kaz wouldn't have been surprised to cut him open and see shimmering gold pool out of the gaping wound instead of blood. such a scent was welcome even to kaz brekker. after all, coin calmed the soul and eased the nerves.