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DramaticFreak
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PostSubject: Re: RP Games and Stuff!   Wed 07 Jan 2015, 19:22

Evangeline on stage time...
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PostSubject: Re: RP Games and Stuff!   Mon 06 Apr 2015, 08:25

Oops:

The club was smoky when she finally plucked up the courage to go inside. For ages, it seemed, she had stood outside, letting men overtake her. Men who knew why she was there, who looked her up and down and said they looked forward to seeing her later. They didn't just mean seeing her around - she knew all too well what they wanted to be seeing. Upon entering, she almost choked. The air outside was so clear, but in here it was stale, polluting, clouded by the smoke of the cigars being puffed on around the room. Her stomach soured upon breathing the thick, sickening air.

Her steps slowed. No longer confident, she felt like a little girl. She probably looked it, too, she thought, in this silly little dress and gaudy makeup. As she looked around the room, eyes adjusting to the sickly smog, she noticed things. Across from the door was a stage of sorts, somewhat rickety. It was small, wider than it was deep, stretching the whole width of the room. She felt as though she ought to be at home there, the stage. After all, she was an actress. But not like this. Round tables were dotted around the room, with chairs positioned around them, pointed towards the stage. Evidently that was where she would end up, eventually. The ceiling was low and beamed, with old, dark wood everywhere, like a traditional tavern. In fact, the only indication that she was not, in fact, in a medieval inn, were the lights. Stage lights. They were off at the moment, the club illuminated rather dimly by glass lanterns that glowed with candlelight from the inside, hanging from hooks and nails on the walls. They pointed towards the stage, promising to light it up the second there was something worth watching on it. The bar was in the corner adjacent to the door; again that old, dark wood that wreaked of tradition and sweet rotting.

As she walked shakily through the room, she noticed that she was the only woman. Where were the others, those whom she was supposed to imitate for the evening? Surely she wasn’t going to perform alone, surely she had someone else with her? The idea of being shared around this whole roomful of men made her shudder. It wasn’t as if it was a quiet night. Every Death Eater in London must have been there, or so it seemed. Because though there wasn’t a single woman but her, there were plenty of men. Men sitting at the round tables chatting; men leaning against the bar with their drinks; men standing in shady corners, conspiring with one another; men leering at The Girl in the Green Dress. Some were dark, swarthy figures who, in another life, may have been pirates, scoundrels, thieves. They had mean little eyes that squinted at her from beneath dark brows, and smiles like arsenic-laced tea. Others were pale, nice-looking, the kind of men who would help you with heavy shopping or hold doors open for you. They didn’t leer, they looked at her appraisingly and gave her smiles full of promises. Evangeline decided that she hated them more than the dark-browed men. At least they made their intentions clear. They were looking for someone to fuck and dump. The others, the ‘gentlemen’, could so easily trick a girl into believing it was love, that he was the exception to every other man who had ever abused her, that he was her ticket out of this hole. She thanked her lucky stars that this wasn’t her life. It was just for one night.

When she reached the bar, she leaned against the brass rail to wait for the barkeep, to ask him where she might find ‘Madame Nox’, the woman with whom she had spoken on the phone to organise this little performance. As she waited for the squat gentleman to finish with his customer, a man came up behind her and put his arm around her waist, hot breath on his ear.

“Bit early, aren’t you sweetheart? Show doesn’t start for another half an hour. Still, if you’re doing early bookings, I can pay you for the hour.”

Evangeline desperately wanted to smack him when she felt his hand on her bottom. Fortunately, she was able to subdue this urge, instead turning to face him with an affected smile and innocent eyes.

“Sorry, I’m not… I mean, I’m new. It’s my first night. I’m looking for Madame Nox – do you know where I might find her?”

The man, whom Evangeline now recognised as Travers, seemed disappointed that she wasn’t taking orders, his smile falling away, then reappearing when he heard that she’d be around later.

“Madame Nox? Yeah, I can take you to her. Right this way.”

Once again, his hand was on her behind as he led her through the crowds of men towards a door hidden behind a heavy drapery in the far corner of the room. She felt disgusted with herself already. How would she survive tonight? As Travers led her through the door and into the adjoining room, she noted a second door, also hidden behind the drapery, that she planned to investigate later. For now, though, she was absorbed in finding Madame Nox.

“Found this girl at the bar, Madame Nox. Said she was looking for you.” Travers explained to the woman behind the desk, the predominant piece of furniture in the small office room. Evangeline smiled a little, glad that her character was supposed to be nervous, as she didn’t have to act as much. Madame Nox, a crow-like woman of about forty looked up at her, beady eyes looking her up and down. After seemingly analysing her, Nox stood with a sharp smile and held her hand out to Evangeline, who gladly went over to shake it, if only to get away from Travers’ wandering hands.

“And you are?”

“Melanie Jekyll – we spoke on the phone,” cooed Evangeline in her soft voice, smiling gently at Nox.

“Ah, yes, the new girl. Well, let’s take a look at you, then. Coat off.”

Hands trembling slightly, Evangeline undid the knot of her coat’s belt with little difficulty, and shrugged the garment to the floor, careful to keep hold of her bag. Madame Nox smiled at the dress and stockings, nodding and taking a step towards Evangeline. She could get a good price for this one. Noticing that she was not the only one appraising ‘Melanie’, she shot a look at Travers.

“Thank you for showing Miss Jekyll in. You may go now.” Taking a final look at Evangeline’s figure, Travers nodded and left to tell his mates about the new girl. As soon as the door closer, Madame Nox moved so that she was standing behind Evangeline. “Blood status?”

“Half-blood. By mother was pureblood, but raped by a Muggle man one night. Her husband, though, was a pureblood. However he never accepted us, threw us out. That’s why I’m here.”

Madame Nox made sound that may have been intended as consoling, as if she sympathized with the plight of Melanie’s mother. “Poor woman. I understand.”

Evangeline was about to breathe a sigh of relief at having pulled off her story, when she felt Madame Nox’s hands on her hips. Freezing, she held her breath. The hands moved forward, touching her stomach, then back to her waist. They explored down again, firmly felt on her thighs and backside, even on her pelvis, and then up. The woman reached around and cupped Evangeline’s breasts for a moment before moving up over her shoulders and down her arms. All of a sudden, Madame Nox withdrew her hands and stepped in front of Evangeline with a very business-like look on her face.

“Good. You’ll do. Good-looking girl, curves in all the right places and all that, no implants or anything, and you didn’t squirm or complain. Perfect for this line of work. You won’t be in the main show tonight, but obviously you’ll be up on stage eventually. Nothing complicated, we stick a bit of music on and you whip your kit off. Doesn’t have to be anything fancy, the punters don’t give a shit as long as you’re wearing less than you started off with. Customers have pretty much free reign out there, they can look and touch, but they aren’t allowed to do anything – ” Evangeline perked up a little, “ – unless they pay. Anyone interested, you bring ‘em to see me to arrange a price, and I’ll give you a room key for upstairs. Alright? Good. You’ve got ten minutes or so before you have to go out there and basically wait on ‘em, bit of a flirt and a fondle. Dressing room’s through there. Good luck.”

One of her claw-like fingers indicated to a door behind her desk as she once again sat down and looked at her papers. It was time for Evangeline to make her exit.

On the other side of the door was, as Nox had said, a dressing room. Mirrors lined the walls, dusty and cracked, and dressing tables were dotted around. Women with empty eyes powdered their faces, covering the cracks that had started to show. It was nothing like the muggle films she’d seen set in clubs like this. There were no showgirls running around giggling, there was no hum of chatter. Everything was very… rusty. It was like the women were clockwork figures, wound up and ticking along but the fluidity in their movements was gone. They were set in their little routine; they’d keep going through the motions for years yet, though that was all it would ever be for them. Not a job, but an occupation. Something for them to do, not enjoy. Money was money after all. Evangeline joined the clockwork women, powdering her face, applying her mask.

Minutes passed, and the women filtered out one by one to start their shifts. Following one woman, who had been pointed out to her as her ‘buddy’ for her first night, Evangeline found herself in the main room. Buddy Theresa was an olive-skinned woman with thick curves and coarse brown hair, twisted like tiny snakes onto the back of her head. Her lips were painted a shade of red so dark it was almost black, her eyes smoked with charcoal all around. She reminded Evangeline of Medusa. Theresa led the younger girl out to a full table in the corner, some kind of party apparently going on. Immediately the men latched onto her, clearly recognising her from previous visits. Their hands clamoured for a touch of her waist, thighs, breasts; she seemed desensitised to it all, her smile seemingly painted on with lipstick. It took a minute or so for the men to get over the excitement of having Theresa there and notice Evangeline. A man with a chiseled jaw and glinting eyes spotted her first, fixed her in his gaze and smiled.

“Who’s that, Theresa? New girl?”
“Yeah, just started tonight. This is Mel. For your pleasure.”

Evangeline smiled at the man coyly as he reached for her, and she went willingly. His arms caught her around the hips, hands roving over the small of her back, down over her bottom and thighs. He didn’t care when his rough hands pulled the hem of her dress up, revealing the tops of her stockings to the whole establishment, the patrons of whom didn’t seem to mind. Evangeline swallowed, trying not to look as sick as she felt, feeling another man groping her. She tried not to think of Sirius waiting for her. The man next to her first captor suddenly began to stroke the inside of her leg, curled around her absent-mindedly. He was chatting to his friends, the action of groping a woman as natural to him as tapping his fingers on the table. It disgusted her how casual it all seemed. Still, it seemed relatively tame so far. No one was undressed, nothing overly sordid seemed to be taking place, just flirting and touching.

“Let someone else have a go, Wendell,” called a piggy-looking man on the other side of the table. ‘Wendell’ reluctantly let her go, as did his more discreet friend. “Come here, sexy,” sniggered the chubby man, reaching for Evangeline with podgy fingers. How cliché, she thought. As soon as he could reach her, Piggy pulled her so that she was sitting on his lap. His hands were not as slow-moving as the others were, nor as gentle. His smooth, puffy palms trailed all over Evangeline, eventually settling on her breasts, squeezing without care for her comfort. Occasionally he would shift his hips under her, making her jog up and down on his knee. Small grunts and snorts would come from behind her, as she was disgusted to find that Piggy was beginning to show his arousal physically. She looked to Theresa for help or guidance, but the woman had disappeared – strange, thought Evangeline, considering that they both seemed to be ‘booked’ for this party. Then she noticed that one man had his head tipped back and was breathing heavily, while the men on either side of him kept peeping under the table and laughing together. Evangeline got the feeling that she had just found where Theresa was hiding.

All of a sudden, she felt Piggy’s left hand on her arm, trying to worm its way in through the arm of her dress to get at her bare flesh. Panicking, not knowing what to do, whether to allow him to cross that boundary, which would undoubtedly lead to yet more intimate touching, she could have cried with relief when she heard Madame Nox call her name. Jumping up and making some sultry excuse to a disappointed Piggy, she crossed the room to her employer for the evening.

“You and Floella are due on stage now. She’ll show you what to do.”

Floella was a porcelain-pale woman in her early twenties, with a full bust and curvy behind, by far the best-looking woman in the club, and the youngest apart from Evangeline herself. She had thick waves of hair, dyed a dark shade of purple, and amethyst lipstick and eyeshadow, lashes so long they looked like fans. Her top was a cobweb-like black corset, her shorts tight and equally spider-like, covering very little of her. She wore fishnet stockings and black leather high-heeled boots that came above her knee. There was something very dangerous about her beauty. Evangeline’s breath hitched in her throat as Floella looked her up and down, then took her hand and led her backstage. The door in front of them would lead directly onto the rickety stage; she could hear the bustle of the club, the low chuckles of tipsy patrons and the high-pitched cackles of the women who pretended to find them irresistible.

“Mel, right?” asked Floella in a throaty voice that was undeniably sensual. Evangeline nodded dumbly in response, terrified of what would happen next. “We’ll go out in a couple of minutes. The music starts and all you have to do is follow my lead. Anything I take off, you take off. You either smile or look moody, like me. Pout, you know, anything like that. Throw a few winks at the audience, move around the stage, if at any point you want to interact with me just do it and I’ll follow, same if I engage you. Don’t look nervous, if you mess up just cover it somehow, and for Merlin’s sake look sexy. You need more lipstick.”

Throughout this speech Evangeline had been mute, and still was as Floella painted her lips red again. The woman could only have been a year or two older than her, yet she seemed so… was wise the word? No: experienced. She was an old hand at these shows. She knew how to make the customers want her, and believe that she wanted them.

“Any questions?” Floella startled her from her thoughts.

“Um, do I get a-a break soon?” Evangeline asked, reminding herself of her task, which was to find information on the Death Eaters, not get groped by them.

“After this, fifteen minutes. Come on, get on stage.”

Floella kicked the stage door open and strutted on stage, immediately silencing the room as they all turned to look at her. Evangeline followed, going for the coy look as opposed to trying to act like a sassy temptress, which she was unaccustomed to – except when it came to Sirius, of course. This was a whole different ballgame, though.

The music sprang up, a slow, raunchy number with plenty of brass and drums. Floella was walking around the stage slowly, eyeing up the audience, making them sweat and swoon. Unsure of what to do, Evangeline stood to the side, biting her lip and trying to look innocent and shy, pulling it off with ease, as the only part she was faking was the smile. Just as a few rowdier members began to whoop for Floella to get on with it, she beckoned a member of the audience from near the front. He stood and came to the front of the stage, looking incredibly grateful to be there.

“Belt.” Floella purred, hands on hips as the man unfastened her heavy leather belt. “Thanks, honey,” and then she turned and walked to the back of the stage, leaving the man holding the belt as he went back to his seat.

With no belt to take off, Evangeline just pretended that she had found the whole experience incredibly sensual, shimmying her shoulders and looking with faux lust at Floella, who was now undoing the button and zip of her shorts. With a wiggle, they pooled around her feet and she stepped out of them, kicking them to another audience member and walking over to Evangeline, letting the audience have a good look at her underwear and garters. She took Evangeline’s hand and led her to the centre of the stage. Bizarrely, she began to move her hands up and down Evangeline’s sides, then gripped her hips and pulled her close, pulling her dress up so that her garters and underwear were also on show. Heat pooled in her cheeks as Floella turned around and moved her hair over her shoulder, indicating for Evangeline to remove her corset.

Slowly, she unlaced the garment until Floella could remove it herself, which she did with a flourish. Under it she wore very little indeed. Strategically-placed tassels, no more. Taking her cue, Evangeline reached around and unzipped her dress, gracefully sliding it off and dearly hoping she wouldn’t have to remove any more. The audience roused themselves into a collective ‘woah’ when Evangeline kicked the dress to the side of the stage. Floella was appraising her, biting her pinky finger for the benefit of the audience, when someone piped up:

“Giz a proper show, ladies!”

Evangeline wasn’t sure what they meant, but it seemed that Floella did as she put one hand on Evangeline’s waist and the other on her bottom, and kissed her. Though she hadn’t expected kissing another woman, Evangeline had come prepared for kissing the punters. Floella conducted a slow exploration of her lips while her hands gently caressed her body. Taking the hint, Evangeline’s hands went to the other woman’s waist, just as Floella’s moved to her shoulders, neck, and eventually her breasts. The audience was very quiet as they kissed, though it lasted scarcely a minute before they pulled apart and Floella once again began to interact with the audience.

Breathless, Evangeline wondered how much further she would have to take this. Floella was now wearing nothing but her skimpy black briefs, and was once again beckoning Evangeline. She walked over and turned to face the crowd while Floella pressed against her from behind, her hands delicately touching and pressing the younger girl. At one point, purple lips were on Evangeline’s neck, kissing and suckling. Eventually long, black-nailed fingers were removing her stockings, though she was forced back into her shoes. Then her bra was unhooked, and with a sinking feeling she cast it off, making the men whoop and jeer, shouting their lewd comments. The music was clearly coming to an end when Floella took her hand and led her towards the stage door.

“On three.”

Her hands were on her the waistband of her panties, and Evangeline nodded.

“Three.”

Both of them dropped their underwear at the same time and walked immediately offstage, meaning that she audience saw very little. As soon as the door closed she was bundled into a dressing gown and told to change before her break, handed a silky red dress and some knickers. Hiding from the other girls, she pulled on the dress and reapplied her makeup, before going ‘to the loo’.

She tried very hard not to think about what had just happened as she crept barefoot into Madame Nox’s office. Fifteen minutes wasn’t long, she had to keep an eye on the clock while her other was on the door. Rifling through drawers and cabinets, Evangeline managed to find a few documents that Dumbledore had mentioned might be there and scan then into her wand; lists of regular customers (most of whom were Death Eaters, the rest supporters of the Dark Lord), contact information for some, a register of planned meetings, likely to discuss attacks. In addition to this, Evangeline found a piece of notepaper with a few dates jotted down, next to them notes like ‘closed – attack’ or ‘closed – raid’, and various other reasons to close on those particular nights. Nox had likely warned by customers of when attacks might be nearby, or when it wasn’t worth opening as her regulars would all be otherwise engaged. They could use this at the order, plan counter-attacks and whatnot.

Ten minutes had passed, and Evangeline had exhausted the office. Better to get out early, she thought, scurrying into the bathroom and taking out her compact. Immediately, Sirius answered, and she could hear the others in the background.

“Evangeline! Thank Merlin – are you safe? How are you? What’s happened? When are you coming home?”

Relief and concern were both potent in her boyfriend’s voice and face, and she smiled weakly for him. She was tired and ashamed.

“Shh, sh, keep your voice down! I’m safe, I’m shaken but okay. I’m coming home soon, I’m on a break now. It closes in an hour and a half.”

“But what’s happened? What have they done to you?”

“Sirius, please, can we talk about this when I get home? I don’t want to start crying or anything in here.”

“Crying? Why would you cry? You know, even if they’ve… they’ve… been with you, I don’t blame you, I still love you, it doesn’t have to change anything – ”

“No one’s… no. Nothing like that. I’ll tell you everything when I’m back. I might try to sneak out early, actually. I’ve got the information, I’ll try to go now. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Sirius’ voice caught in his throat; normally James would have made a joke, but no one spoke, “Come back to me quickly.”

Evangeline nodded silently, closing the compact before her tears spilled over. Quickly fixing her makeup, she left the stall and went out into the main bar. She kept to the shadows, tried to be quiet in her clicking heels, hoped no one would notice her as she left; of course they did. A man with the stale scent of booze on his breath pinned her to the wall, laughing hoarsely as he slapped a large hand on her breast and started fondling her without so much as a ‘hello’.

“You’re a pretty girly, aren’t you? Travers, come look at this one.”

Travers, the same man who had tried to buy her time when she first came in, sidled up to the pair and looked her up and down.

“I tried to get you earlier, didn’t I? Yeah, I did, you weren’t on the clock. You’re on now though, aren’t you?” Before she could respond, Travers interrupted her, “Let’s see how much you cost, ‘ey? Nyteria!”

Madame Nox, or Nyteria Nox it seemed, walked over with a smile. “What can I do for you boys?”

“I want to negotiate a bit of alone time with miss…?”

“Jekyll. Mel Jekyll,” she answered for Evangeline, who was still being squeezed about by the other man. “Let’s see what we can arrange.”

As Travers and Nox negotiated a few feet away, the big man was still groping around, fixated on her chest it seemed. Before he could find out that she wasn’t wearing a bra, Travers returned brandishing a key, and Evangeline felt sick.

Without a word, just a smile, she was whisked upstairs and into a dingy little room with dark green wallpaper and bedding, a table and two chairs, and dense curtains. Nothing else. Travers wasted no time, removing his shirt and belt, then pinning Evangeline against the door. She closed her eyes as he kissed her, trying not to let a tear escape. This stranger’s hands touched her everywhere as he forced his tongue into her mouth. She gagged. Travers ignored it. This disgusting session was dragged out over ten minutes, giving Evangeline time to plot her escape.

Roughly, he threw her onto the bed then climbed on top of her, rendering escape almost impossible. He pulled her dress over her head, laughed breathily, and began kissing down her neck, over every inch of her until he reached the waistband of her lacy briefs, a feat which took him another five minutes, as he would insist on stopping along the way to tongue her sloppily, or revisit certain areas that he took a fancy to. He looked at her stricken face and chuckled again, removing his trousers hastily, and would have followed with his underpants had Evangeline not managed to land a swift kick in the area. Travers swore loudly and went to grab her again, but already she had pulled her wand from her bag and was pointing it at him.

“Confundo!”

Dazed Travers swooned backwards, falling off the bed, giving Evangeline time to pull her dress on over her head and run to the window.

“Accio broom!” she hissed, focusing on a man whizzing down the backstreets on his quite frankly average-model broom as if he was a top seeker. Evangeline managed a smile as it zoomed into her hand, leaving him bruised and confused. She jumped on and made her getaway, managing an ‘accio coat’ on her way past the entrance to the club before she got high above the rooftops, on her way towards home.

The journey was a relatively short one, a ten-minute walk and a five-minute flight. While she was in the air she almost forgot what had happened, leaving only a gnawing, nagging sensation in the back of her mind. She was too focused on steering, and how cold she was, and how brooms should come with bag-holders for the witch on the go. Even as she walked into the abandoned living room, everyone having gone to bed, likely upon Sirius’ orders, she felt nothing. It was only when she entered hers and Sirius’ bedroom and saw him sitting up, waiting for her, that she broke down.

Going from standing to crumpling in a fraction of a second, Sirius didn’t have time to get up and catch her. By the time he was at her side she was curled up on the floor sobbing; he cradled her in his arms, pulling her into his lap and letting her cry.

“Shh, what is it? What happened? You can talk to me if you want to, it’s okay.”

He felt her nod against him before sitting up, leaning against the wall.

“I- it was horrible,” she hissed into the darkness, “The owner, the woman, felt me all over t-to check me, then sent me out with this other woman, and I had to go over to these men having a party, and it first it was okay, they just touched my legs and my waist a bit, but then this other man made me sit in his lap, and he was touching me everywhere and I could feel his… his… you know…” Sirius nodded and gave her a gentle squeeze as she carried on, “I got called away to go on st-stage, and this girl, she was only a year older than us, I think, we had to go on stage and strip-p-p, and when we were in our underw-wear, they started yelling at us to give them a ‘proper sh-show’ and she started kissing me and touching me, and then she took my c-clothes off. They say almost all of me Sirius, and I feel so g-guilty, and…”

With that she dissolved into fresh fits of tears. Despite the simmering anger inside him at what Dumbledore had sent her to do, and what those scum had done to her, Sirius managed to control himself. Softly, he wiped her tears away with his thumb, kissed her cheek, and pulled her against his chest.

“What happened then?”

Snivelling, she carried on, “I got a break and they gave me his dress and some knickers, a-and then I went into the office and got the papers scanned, and called you, and I tried to escape, Sirius, I really did, but this drunk man pinned me to the wall and he was too big to get away from, and he was touching me as well… they all kept touching me. And Travers, he’d talked to me when I first got there, paid for a room for us – ”

No.

“And took me upstairs – ”

No.

“And he was kissing me and touching me – ”

No.

“And he took my dress off – ”

No.

“And k-kissed me, licked m-me – he was disgusting Sirius – ”

No.

“And he was taking his pants off – ”

No.

“So I kicked him in the balls, confunded him, stole a broom and got out of there.”

In spite of himself, Sirius positively beamed at this, hugged her tight to his chest.

“Do you hate me now? You told me not to go and I-“

“Shut up, you daft cow. I love you. I’m so proud of you.”

“But what they all did to me, I – ”

“It wasn’t you.”

Standing them both up, Sirius removed the wig and unwound her blonde braid. Then he took her to the bathroom and helped her to wash off the makeup. Finally, he removed the dress and underwear, and dressed her in her cotton pyjamas.

“That’s you.”

He pointed to her reflection.

He was right.

“A different girl was in the club, tonight, not you. She did what she had to for the Order, and she was brave, but she’s gone now.”

With that, he led her to the bed, their bed, Sirius and Evangeline’s bed, and lay down with her, held her close. Almost instantly they slept. It was a long and peaceful night, and there was no sign of Melanie Jekyll.
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PostSubject: Re: RP Games and Stuff!   Mon 06 Apr 2015, 08:42

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PostSubject: Re: RP Games and Stuff!   Mon 06 Apr 2015, 10:09

Prepare for a new level of sad:

Evangeline Loveridge had been very proud of herself when she moved away from home. Her apartment wasn't big, or even very nice, but it was hers. She rented it with her own money with no help from her parents, and even if it wasn't what she was used to, it would do for her just fine. If she had any complaints - real complaints, not the cramped kitchen or less-than-stellar views - it would be the area. She didn't mind the dark alleys or the bins or the men in hoodies. What she did mind was the random arson. At 3 o'clock in the morning she was roused from her sleep by the shrill insistence of the fire alarm. Drowsily, she staggered from her bed and downstairs, grabbing her dressing gown on the way past, slipping her slippers on and not bothering with anything else. Finally she reached the ground floor, having found her way briskly downstairs with everyone else, waking up as she went, passing the fire floor on her way down. The air bit at her exposed legs, her nightie stopping at her knees. As they lined up in flat order for a register type thing, she realised that she'd have to stand next to that cocky prick from next door, ready to be mocked for her bedhead and fluffy purple dressing gown and slippe- oh, gosh. How could he be swaggering out of a burning building? Especially dressed like that? Boxers only, Sirius Black strutted over to her with a lazy smile on his face.
"Evening princess. Nice slippers."
"Better than being barefoot, Black." Evangeline snapped coldly, not looking at him.
"Nice and warm in that dressing gown, are you?"
She could feel him smirking at her. Gritting her teeth, she nodded. "Warmer than you."
"I'm plenty hot enough." She snorted, but kept sneaking looks. "You might say smoking."
She couldn't help the giggle, and hated that he was grinning like he was. The worst part was, he wasn't wrong.
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PostSubject: Re: RP Games and Stuff!   Mon 06 Apr 2015, 10:34

You have tO STOP
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PostSubject: Re: RP Games and Stuff!   Tue 07 Apr 2015, 08:24

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PostSubject: Re: RP Games and Stuff!   Wed 12 Aug 2015, 11:10

TRaSH I AM SOrRy

Sivangeline:
   Who’s the first to wake up in the morning: At school is was Evangeline, but after the reunion it's Sirius
   Who’s the one to make breakfast: Sirius because he's had to learn to fend for himself while Evangeline is still totally used to other people doing stuff for her (he's happy to oblige)
   Who’s the one to serve the other breakfast in bed: Sirius, he makes the most of Evangeline while she's there
   Who would suggest a quickie in the morning before work: Evangeline (he doesn't complain)
   Who suggests they both ditch work to lay around all day: Sirius, although it's more along the lines of "Don't go"
   Who chooses the movies: Pretty even split
   Who initiates kissing during the movie, thus distracting the other from the movie all together: Sirius (Evangeline gets very engrossed, so he thinks of it as a personal challenge to get her to stop watching)
   Who orders lunch: Evangeline, because Sirius always forgets
   Who steals food from the other’s plate without asking: Sirius
   Who curls up next to the other and falls asleep due to a full tummy: Evangeline
   Who distracts the other from trying to work at home: Sirius - he's kind of like a bored puppy
   Who asks to go get ice cream like a five year old: Sirius (it kills her to deny him a chance to go outside, every time)
   Who cooks dinner: Usually both
   Who cleans up the kitchen afterwards: They got Kreacher for this shit
   Who stays up until 2 reading: Evangeline
   Who stares at their partner while they're sleeping: Sirius
   Who kisses their partner while they sleep: Evangeline

Ramy:
   Who’s the first to wake up in the morning: Remus
   Who’s the one to make breakfast: Even split
   Who’s the one to serve the other breakfast in bed: Amy (especially after a full moon)
   Who would suggest a quickie in the morning before work: No one suggests it, if it happens it happens
   Who suggests they both ditch work to lay around all day: Amy (hard to do when 'work' is fighting a war)
   Who chooses the movies: They usually want to watch the same one anyway cos they're dorks
   Who initiates kissing during the moving, thus distracting the other from the movie all together: Amy probably
   Who orders lunch: Remus
   Who steals food from the other’s plate without asking: Amy
   Who curls up next to the other and falls asleep due to a full tummy: Amy
   Who distracts the other from trying to work at home: Amy
   Who asks to go get ice cream like a five year old: Amy
   Who cooks dinner: Either. Remus is more stews and Amy is more chili if you get what I'm saying
   Who cleans up the kitchen afterwards: Remus
   Who stays up until 2 reading: Both they're massive nerds
   Who stares at their partner while they're sleeping: Amy - she likes to see him peaceful
   Who kisses their partner while they sleep: Remus, because he can't get enough of her
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PostSubject: Re: RP Games and Stuff!   Mon 21 Nov 2016, 05:06

The girl had never been one to linger once something was over. Romantic ideals he had held, though never expressed, of meandering back from parties, hand-in-hand in the early hours were never to be. Once goodbyes had been said and any other pleasantries dispensed with, the duties of the guest fulfilled, she was pulling on her coat and striding down the driveway. He was always left running behind her to catch up, still turning to wave to the hosts at the door. While they may not have wandered together in the moonlight, his hand always found hers, and they hurried home together. Through the door of their own little house, into their own bedroom, there to collapse in their nest. She always had time for that when they were younger.
Many times, he had asked her why she was so eager to return home – did she not enjoy spending time with their friends? Would she rather stay at home? No. Recalling her childhood, she told him how much she had dreaded her mother’s parties. Never-ending lines of guests to be greeted and later sent on their way, her duties did not stop once the door had been closed for the final time that evening. She could never escape the feeling of claustrophobia that her mother induced, the endless manners and protocols made her feel like a guest in her own home. She was not, then, so keen on leaving the party as she was on getting home. Manners did not matter there. Only they mattered.
Things change, however. Thirteen years is a long time. Their little house lasted only a few months, lost to the war like so many of their brave friends. The next home they shared would not be so cheery.
It made sense, then, that she would be as eager to leave that same house once their own goodbyes had been said. No, he thought, ‘goodbyes’ is the wrong word. Too friendly to describe the brusque words she had afforded him that morning as she grabbed her suitcase and sped down the stairs towards the door. Though he had never been successful in slowing her down before, he was determined to do so now. Grabbing the unwilling hand that had so lovingly interlocked with his before, he pulled her backwards as he positioned himself in front of her. After several attempts at this silent dance, he succeeded in blocking her way, limbs barring the threshold that she was so eager to cross.
Her stony gaze fixed unwaveringly on his eyes. The girl was not afraid. Both knew that he would rather die than hurt her, threaten her. Neither was she upset, it seemed; leaving caused her no visible anguish, at least not to an ordinary bystander. He was more than that, though, and she knew it, and she hated it. He could see the cracks in her icy façade, though it never melted. Mouth set in a firm, pursed line, it was clear that she would ask nothing of him, not even for him to move. She relied on her frosty glare to do that for her. As he had told her many times before, she would have to do better than that.
“You aren’t leaving.” Though his voice was still, if he spoke for too long, or plead with her, or begged, it would ripple and reveal his pain. Still she did not speak, move, perhaps not even breathe. He tried again: “You are not walking through this door, Evangeline. You can be as cold as you like, you know I’ve survived worse than this from you, Ice Queen. It doesn’t matter how long you look at me like that for, you aren’t gonna freeze my balls off.”
It was a few moments more until finally she spoke, “You know that I do as I please, Sirius.” Instead of the blizzard he had braced himself for, her words fell softly in the silence like the first snow, unexpected and perhaps more difficult to navigate. “I won’t stay where I’m not welcome. If you aren’t prepared to make the best of this place, if you reject any changes I suggest, then there is little point in my staying.”
Grimmauld Place, ironically both grim and old, was not the family home she had pictured for herself. In fact, it was very like her childhood home, her family’s seat near Valkenburg aan de Gaul in Holland. Austere and cold, though not quite as stylish as the de Ven mansion, the house held bad memories for Sirius, there was no escaping that fact. In hiding, however, he had no choice but to return there, often spending weeks and months entirely alone. All she had wanted was to change that, to make a heaven of hell, while she was there.
It started small, when she came back from shopping one day with a throw for the sofa, burgundy and blue stripe – our house colours, she’d smirked at him as she arranged it over the back of the sickly green sofa. It had stayed there for a day or two, when she came home one day to find it stuffed in their wardrobe. When she questioned him about it, he shrugged it off, and said that it was irritating his neck when he sat down. Disappointed but undaunted, she continued to come back with bits and bobs to ‘spruce up the place’: cushions, ornaments, pictures in pretty frames, new bedsheets, even wallpaper samples. Everything was eventually stuffed away in some cupboard or drawer, until it was like Evangeline had never lived there.
Walking through the empty halls and rooms, adorned with Black family portraits, walls painted in the same dour colours that they had been since she first saw the place, Evangeline felt something cold grip her heart – loneliness. Like a ghost, Sirius wandered the house of his childhood without a single warm memory or thought, yet any attempt to make new memories prompted nothing but resistance in him. Unwilling to live in a house of memories, that day she decided to leave. If he wanted to wallow in the past, he could, but she would have no part of it. Slipping the bright ring from her finger, she left it next to the bed by his sleeping form.
That ring was what had first alerted him to her absence. Shining even in the sallow sunlight that crept through the thick, dusty windows, it made his heart clench. There were footsteps on the stairs. Merlin, no, she wasn’t, she wouldn’t… clutching the ring gently in his fist, he dashed downstairs, saw her by the door, panicked, and began trying to bar her exit.
“…there is little point in my staying.”
There was every point, he thought. She kept him sane. She made him happy. She filled this house, his heart, in a way that he hadn’t felt since moving in with the Potters. She was home to him. “Aren’t I a reason to stay? I thought we were in love, Evangeline, we’re engaged for Merlin’s sake! Don’t you want me anymore?”
Her clear, crisp eyes continued to bore into his. “I want you, Sirius, with every fibre of my being. But I refuse to stay in this house when you won’t let me make it a home for us. You tell me you hate everything about it, every portrait and wall and piece of furniture – yet you won’t let me change it! I try to make this a home and you fight me every step of the way. Why? Why do you insist on wallowing in your own misery?”
Taken aback somewhat, Sirius looked down at himself, then stepped to allow her to pass. “I won’t make you stay with me. I wouldn’t want to stay in this place, either. It changes you. Makes you empty. Like Azkaban all over again.” His eyes filled, his head bowed, he would not stand in her way. But she did not pass him; she turned towards him and kissed his cheek, her hand on his arm.
“It only changes you if you let it, schat. If you change it, it can’t hurt you anymore.”
Their eyes locked again, and he silently look her hand in his, placing the ring at the top of her fourth finger and asking permission with his gaze. Smiling slightly, she helped him slide it to where it had been before. Perfect.
Grimmauld Place became rather cheery and by Christmas, things had changed immensely. Evangeline’s first move was to take down the screaming portrait of Walburga, whose painted presence loomed over the house like a bad omen. Next that damn sofa was thrown out, replaced by something infinitely less fusty and more comfortable – red, as Sirius requested, while the throw Evangeline had bought earlier. One by one the portraits for replaced by photos of their friends and family, and the house seemed positively festive. Tinsel and baubles entered the house for the first time in years, and the house smelled of pine from the Christmas tree by the stairs. No Christmas parties for them this year, only in their own home. Evangeline did not have to drag Sirius back to feel comfortable. She was already home.
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