(THE CITY LOOKS SO PRETTY) open.

[EMERSON HUNTER AVERY]

LET'S WATCH THIS CITY BURN
from the sky lines on top of the world,!

[/font]

The few reaching fingers of cold air ruffled his hair in a small wave as the tall boy sat atop the cold stone bench in the open lawns of the unknown park. Above the ebony sky was punctuated by tiny shimmering stars, clearer and brighter than he had seen of late but they were still no competition for the low hanging beauty of the moon. It hung full and magnificent in the sky, it's pale touch reaching his shoulders threatening to chase away the shadows of the night. It was becoming more and more common to find the Quidditch player out in some previously alien place, his home become stifling and the constant press of reporters and photographers was driving him to a new level of impatience that he was beginning to find the idea of hexing them all an increasingly attractive prospect.

Usually he would have sought some form of company however, but with no one in the vicinity as he had pulled himself from before the dancing flames in his front room he had entered the darkness of the night alone, and now he sat, beneath a cold stone arch with nothing but ashes around him to suggest he had been doing anything at all. With his cigarette well and truly gone, and nothing else of interest to do he had simply reclined against the cool surface of the stone behind him, his back arching to fit comfortably against the makeshift seat. The pride and joy of his life, his wand, was resting discarded in his lap, unused since he had stepped into the moonlight and had found his eyes adjusting to the little light quickly. Tilting his chin back he set his dark eyes upon the moon once more, the only sight that stood out from his surroundings. With his life flitting constantly between continents with perpetual day his only state he had begun to miss the simple sight of something as mundane as the moon in the sky, he even lamented the loss of stars at times. Emerson had always been appreciative of the beauty around him, it was something that got him into trouble on a regular basis.

Letting a slow sigh seeped from between his slightly pursed lips he considered lighting another cigarette, but with the mounting stress he had feeling lately his habit had seemed to double, with him obliterating the little white sticks frequently and at an alarming rate, it was good for his job. As a rule, Emerson tried to distance himself from the drama that threatened his life, he kept away from girls that were taken and he never made things too complicated that he could not escape, but with his friends being stuck very firmly in the middle of an imminent war, recently he had found his mind troubling more and more over the subject of the boys and girls. Thankfully his parents had never forced a betrothal on their son, both of them knowing that he would settle down eventually and marry into a respectful family with a wife who was exactly what they dreamed of. Though the fact was as long as she was pure, rich and easy on the eye, they would support any girl he wished to bind himself too. It was a touchy subject for Emerson, as he was he couldn't see himself with a firm girlfriend at his side, discussing kids and where they would live after school, but at times he found himself wondering. The thoughts swirled around his brain as he shifted his weight against the wall, ignoring the feeling of the cold stone seeping through his clothes.

THIS POST IS TAGGED FOR ANY BODY! AND IS COMPLETE AT 604 WORDS.
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music: Undead - Hollywood Undead
notes: na-da.

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[VICTOIRE GABRIELLE WEASLEY]

YOU LIGHT UP MY DARKEST SKIES

[/b][/size]
making my heart feel sore[/size][/center]

Admittedly, although Victoire would’ve rather not been here, it felt nice outside. It was cool and breezy, just chilly enough for a light coat, and the perfect temperature for coffee. Unfortunately, Victoire was in the process of weaning herself from the caffeinated drink. The last few weeks, she had been drinking so much of it that she couldn’t sit still, and she was getting massive withdrawal headaches when she went without caffeine for too long. So Vee was trying to fight coffee’s addictive hold on her, although it was harder than it should have been. After all, there seemed to be a coffee shop on every corner, mocking her with the tempting aroma and the promise of the warm, comforting taste. In fact, it was just her luck that her friend’s house had its own fancy coffee machine, just sitting on the counter. It was mockery at its worst. She’d had to sit across the room from the damned coffee pot and the coffee grounds, trying to keep herself from making herself a pot. Add her high stress levels to the mix, and the coffee was basically irresistible.

Vee had actually admitted partial defeat by leaving her friend’s kitchen and house behind, because she wasn’t tired in the slightest and she needed to walk off her sad state of caffeine withdrawal. So she had set off, trying to make herself tired enough to sleep with extensive walking. It didn’t exactly work. All Vee had done was make her feet sore, and she still wasn’t sleepy. Ever since the Daily Prophet had put her on this assignment, she had been in a mental state of indignation, which made calming down a much harder act. Her boss had assigned her to report on a subject she really didn’t want to: Quidditch players. Well, a few, anyways. She was supposed to become a part of the disgustingly desperate paparazzi, chasing around a few people for the honor of a picture or a few answered questions. Victoire knew that the boss was testing her, to see what she was best at, but Victoire was still insulted at the prospect of joining one of the throngs of people that surrounded some Quidditch players. She was no groupie. But she couldn’t argue with the boss, at least not yet, and there was the promise that this assignment was a one-time deal, so Victoire had visited a friend near where one of the players had been spotted, sleeping in the extra room, and she’d been procrastinating since. She didn’t want to be that kind of journalist.


The heels of her ankle boots clicked on the sidewalk as she wandered the streets, pulling her coat tighter against the chill in the air. In a split-second decision—Victoire’s specialty—she veered off the sidewalk and into a deserted park, liking the silence of her footsteps now that they were in grass. It was easier to think without the repeated clicking of her shoes on cement. Vee loved her shoes, really, but sometimes she wished she was wearing something a little quieter.

The park was pretty much deserted, seeing as it probably wasn’t a popular destination once the sun set, and Victoire found she could appreciate the solitude a little bit, even though she wasn’t a loner by nature. As her stroll continued, Victoire found that she wasn’t alone in the park, after all. There was a male figure on a stone bench not too far off, and he looked vaguely familiar. Victoire walked closer, squinting a little in the dim light, trying to place where she had seen this person before. When she was close enough to get a good glimpse of his face, Victoire stopped in her tracks. She did know him. She had been at Hogwarts with him for a while, and he was, in fact, one of the Quiddtch players she was apparently supposed to stalk and/or worship.

Really, what were the chances? She had found Emerson Avery when she had not even been looking for him. She must be the envy of every paparazzi journalist in this city.

“Oh, irony,” Victoire muttered to herself, her hands in her coat pockets, unsure of what to do. The impulses that usually controlled her behavior were too awed at the irony to offer much help, but she wasn’t exactly in a position to turn and walk away—she had come too close to him. With a sigh that made her breath cloud in the air, Victoire tried to prepare herself for whatever would come next.

tagged: emerson & open
Word to change to count: 757

[EMERSON HUNTER AVERY]

LET'S WATCH THIS CITY BURN
from the sky lines on top of the world,!

[/font]

For such a late date in September the night was uncharacteristically still, there was little wind as he sat there, eyes averted from the beauty around him and fixed upon the darkened sky that hung above him as if every twinkling light that existed millions of light years away were watching not just earth, but him in particular. It was a strange feeling to look upon those stars, it proved just how truly insignificant you really were, in the grand scheme of things, one little Quidditch player did not change anything, no matter how many games he won or how many trophies he won his country, he was not doing anything but throwing a ball around.

With a light sigh he pulled his body into a sitting position, making the length of the wall at his back obsolete for the moment in its majesty. Around him the park appeared empty, no longer needed by those respectful people that were at home, making their dinner ready to retire into the comfy bed that granted them so much solace. In some far reaches of greenery he didn't doubt that there were some young muggles imbibing alcohol to their hearts contents, too young to be welcomed by the pubs and clubs but old enough to blag bottles of cheap booze from the careless shop assistants, but they were of no concern to him, the muggle population at large could deal with their own problems, it wasn't like the world he lived in wasn't juggling more than their fair share. His earlier assumption was, however, wrong and as the steady footsteps of another cut through his mundane thoughts he became aware of this matter.

Curiosity was always one of his favourite emotions and he did so love to employ it as often as he could, as soon as the muttered words of the woman, whoever she may be, floated towards him on the breeze, his ears pricked to attention, curiosity already doubling by the news that this new visitor was of the opposite sex. It was of no secret that Emerson Avery was very fond of spending time with women, though that was a very polite way of saying it, and not the way the Daily Prophet loved screaming at him from it's cramped little pages. So the news that company had arrived was admittedly something he was very happy about. Turning his head slightly, he searched the impending gloom for the source of the muttered words that had gone over his head completely. Stood not far away was a tall, slender blonde girl who had a beauty that he had not quite expected. To be confronted with someone who's delicate features struck him as immediately attractive wasn't common for him, but the more he looked at her, drinking in the sweeping blonde at her back and the pale tint of her skin, she just became more intriguing to him.

Melting the look of slight shock and forging it into a charming but questioning smile he met her eyes finally, though maybe a second too late to be completely innocent. And what would a young lady such as yourself be doing alone in such a place at this time of night? oh how cliche of him completely, but things had become so typical for a reason, if the classics didn't work, what would? Raising his eyebrows slightly he regarded her for a moment, waiting for her to answer and hoping the one she would supply him with would not be a whimsical little giggle and 'oh you devil,' girl's like that were awfully boring and if there was no chase, there was just simply less enjoyment.

THIS POST IS TAGGED FOR ANY BODY! AND IS COMPLETE AT 604 WORDS.
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music: Undead - Hollywood Undead
notes: na-da.

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[VICTOIRE GABRIELLE WEASLEY]

YOU LIGHT UP MY DARKEST SKIES

[/b][/size]
making my heart feel sore[/size][/center]

Standing in the basically deserted park, Victoire felt a bit like a teenager again. When she’d gone through her particularly rebellious, spoiled stage, she’d snuck out all the time just for the hell of it. She’d broken the Hogwarts curfew with a few friends many times, and even when she went home for the holidays she’d leave the house in the middle of the night for no certain reason. It was probably for the adrenaline rush that creeping through the house gave her, or for the interesting feeling of having no one know exactly where she was. The park was someplace she would’ve enjoyed, had she still been in her ‘sneaking out’ phase. But Victoire had grown up, and since she was technically allowed to be anywhere she wanted to be, she no longer had interest in sitting alone in deserted places. There was no curfew to break, no parents to sneak around, and therefore no excitement. So these days, Victoire only took long walks late at night when she had a specific purpose, such as attempting to make herself tired enough to go to bed.

Although she had a reasonably good reason for being out, and she was in no way breaking rules—she had no rules to break, really—Victoire was reminded of her rebellious stage. She smiled a small, wry grin, feeling a little nostalgic. But she had to admit that the present was much better, seeing as she could stay out at late as she wanted and no one could say anything about it. Victoire had gotten used to this freedom a while ago, but every now and then it struck her anew and she had a moment of appreciation for the mere concept. There. Moment of appreciation over. Nostalgia over. Back to the present.

Emerson Avery was a charmer. She knew that about him—she’d had to read a brief bio of all the Quidditch players in the area before she’d set off. And now, she was seeing that charm in action. Look, he’d covered up his brief moment of shock with a beguiling smile, and a good one at that. He was an attractive man, and he knew it. Victoire didn’t have to have read the notes of other journalists to see that. His confidence was tangible, and Vee found it intriguing.

“A young lady such as myself would be in a place like this in order to walk off an addiction,” Victoire responded with a slight tilt of her head and the beginnings of a smile on her lips. She wasn’t being a journalist at the moment—she was off the clock—so she felt perfectly fine at being unprofessional. He was an attractive, charming guy, after all, so why shouldn’t she have a bit of fun? It wasn’t like she’d let it get serious.

“And why would you be out all by yourself?” Victoire decided she’d let Emerson know that she knew him in a few moments, after she’d talked a bit more. She liked the company, and she might as well chat a bit before he ran away from the paparazzi she’d just recently been demoted to. Since they were practically having a conversation now, Victoire took a few more steps forward and sat near him on the bench, crossing her legs in front of her. She didn’t give the action much thought. If he hadn’t wanted the company, or just didn’t want to share the bench, it was too late. Acting without thinking was a habit of Victoire’s that had gotten her into more than enough trouble.

It felt good to get the weight off her feet. After extensive amounts of walking, the heels were making her extremely uncomfortable. But that was the price she had to pay for the shoes. What was that saying?...Beauty is pain, or something like that. Victoire felt that way about what she wore. However, this belief didn’t extend to how much she ate. She didn’t starve herself, she thought that was silly. Other than that, though, the phrase fit. Victoire tried to enjoy the time spent sitting, however brief it would be, and turned towards Emerson for his response.

tagged: emerson & open
word count: 657
lyrics: muse

[EMERSON HUNTER AVERY]

LET'S WATCH THIS CITY BURN
from the sky lines on top of the world,!

[/font]

Charm was his first offense and it was immediate, a reaction he had quickly honed from the moment of his birth, whether he employed it around his mother, delightful young ladies like the blonde example that had just entered his world or the reporters that sought to learn every detail about both his private life and public life, no matter how insignificant, it was rarely ineffective. Watching for a moment he allowed silence to lapse between them, nothing but the low hoot of owls to cut the park that for whatever reason, had drawn them here. As he watched, waiting for her to speak he watched a small smile curl her lips, and he couldn't help but match it, wondering what thoughts had flitted through that head of hers to bring such an expression to her delicate features. Whatever it was, Emerson would never know, but his mind was full of enough imagination to string something together, though it would be understandably far fetched.

Patience had never been a virtue he had employed easily, or managed to keep up in most situations. When he was atop that broom and motioning for someone to pass the Quaffle to him he was at his most dangerous, full of urgency and no time for those that could not keep up with his fast paced motion, it made him an alarmingly good chaser but it made him often unpopular after the game.

Finally she spoke, and as her silky words slid over him he felt his arched eyebrow hitched slightly towards his hair line, a curious expression taking over his face instantly. An addiction? Now that's not a good thing the teasing tone stole from his tongue easily as his eyes danced with a matching amusement, many had tried to tell Emerson that he was addicted to silly things like the company of women, even told him that he should stop his often womanizing ways, but what was life without a little fun, and craving something that would make your life, for a few short minutes complete was nothing that he was about to complain about. Watching her titling her head he waited for an elaboration, but it seemed he was not about to receive one as easily as that.

I'm prowling the words came out as a drawl, arrogance echoing through every syllable in a way that was far from serious, there was no real reason that had brought him here, the search for solitude maybe? Though he could have found more distraction in one of the bustling pubs and bars that lined the main street not far from the deserted park. Maybe it had simply been his need to get away from the world that often pushed in upon him so stiflingly, after his few little rendezvous's in Paris and the big game that was followed by the equally eventful Carnival it wasn't surprising that his life was almost full to burst, maybe this little blonde with the keen eyes and cultured words would be his salvation tonight.

As she walked towards her he did the gentlemanly thing and moved slightly to make way for her, not that it was really necessary it was just a formality and much to his niggling annoyance served to move him further away from her on the cold stone surface of the bench. Though he wouldn't quite voice the thoughts in his mind he was glad that she had decided not to run away from him, deciding he was some creepy guy that stalked parks in the middle of the night looked for young women, the irony of his idea almost brought a smile to his face, was he so much different from the guy he had described? Sure he wasn't creepy, and he didn't really think his actions could be described as stalking, but it was the middle of the night and here he was, sat side by side with avery attractive woman, and all he could think of was how he had suddenly become very lucky indeed.

THIS POST IS TAGGED FOR ANY BODY! AND IS COMPLETE AT 671 WORDS.
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music: Undead - Hollywood Undead
notes: na-da.

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[VICTOIRE GABRIELLE WEASLEY]

YOU LIGHT UP MY DARKEST SKIES

[/b][/size]
making my heart feel sore[/size][/center]

Victoire felt like she was lying, like she was being untruthful in some way by not telling Emerson Avery exactly what she was. It wasn’t like she had said anything so far that could be construed as a lie. She had been nothing but frank so far in the conversation. Okay, maybe not frank. She was enjoying the word games, seeing if he could place her face or figure out that she knew him, but she hadn’t lied. She was just omitting the truth. Omission and lying were not the same thing. After all, if he asked her straight out, Victoire would openly admit that she was, regrettably, a journalist who was supposed to be interviewing him right now, not chatting. But, despite her dislike of lies of any form, Victoire did not want to tell him that she worked for the Daily Prophet. Doing so would not only ruin any chances of a decent conversation, it would also cement her fate as a part of the paparazzi, and Victoire wasn’t even ready to fully admit that to herself. She had pride, and being ordered to follow around a few Quidditch players, however temporary, was a blow to that pride. So she kept that information to herself, at least for now.

“Oh, it’s nothing too serious,” Victoire said, not mentioning exactly what the addiction was to. She enjoyed games, liked to see just what got people interested enough to ask questions, what annoyed them, what charmed them. These games had started when Vee had first learned about psychology, and had morphed from an experiment to a hobby. She no longer analyzed people’s behavior, she just liked to see their reactions. ”Especially nothing to worry your pretty head over.” Victoire matched Emerson’s teasing tone easily, even though she doubted he was worried in the least. It seemed as if they both knew this was a game, and Victoire felt better about it. Playing around with someone who was serious was always a bit guilt-inducing.

“Oh, prowling?” Victoire rasied a single eyebrow and grinned. ”May I ask what you’re hunting?” She had an educated guess as to what he was looking for. She’d read his file, after all, even thought that very fact was making her feel utterly intrusive at the moment. Emerson Avery liked women, and that was no secret. Victoire wasn’t even going to object to that. She liked games, herself, especially when the people she played them with were attractive young men. However, Victoire was more interested in the flirting—the courting of chemistry, rather than the chemistry itself. She liked the chase, and she’d only met one man who’d ever caught her interest for longer than the games lasted.

She noted how he moved over a little to make more room for her on the bench. It was a courteous thing to do, and Victoire appreciated it even if it was just habitual manners. She had a feeling that playing games with Emerson was going to be a challenge, of sorts. He was handsome and charming, there was no denying that, and Vee was glad that she’d been forewarned of his appeal. She wasn’t the type of girl to fall into a man’s arms after a few well-used lines and secret smiles. That wasn’t her. More or less, she’d be bored of the man by the time it reached that point, and had no desire to follow up the flirting. She never made promises to them, though, and didn’t lead people on. When someone asked her a question, she answered it. Sometimes asking ahead of time would save a man from wasting his time expecting something from her, because Victoire wasn’t really looking for anything serious. Her one real relationship was on a hiatus, and she wasn’t looking for something like that right now.

Victoire turned her attention to Emerson’s green-eyed gaze, smiling. This could be fun. It was just what she needed, a distraction from the indignation of the real world.

tagged: emerson & open
word count: 664
lyrics: darkshines by muse

[EMERSON HUNTER AVERY]

LET'S WATCH THIS CITY BURN
from the sky lines on top of the world,!

[/font]

The ambiguous nature of her explanation did not overly bother him, she was a stranger after all and he had no reason to pry, nor did he have any reason to care why her feet had brought her to this particular park on this particular night. If she wanted to keep it to herself, then so be it. Emerson hardly even took the time to try to dissect other. If you say so with a small wink he gave another smirk as she returned his tone. I'll make sure not to worry if anything happens to you, you do look awfully tough after all Emerson knew only too well how such a sentence could back fire, many a proud girl had gone into a mood just because he had suggested they might not be able to take care off themselves, he preferred girls who could poke fun of themselves than take him too seriously.

With a shrug that just scream non-chalance he met her eyes with a mischievous glint evident in his own, Emerson always chose his words carefully, to result in maximum impact, and such care was doubled when he was joined by a female, so as he paused for a moment, taking the advantage to look deep into the clear eyes of the girl that had appeared out of thin air as if by, dare he say it, magic, he let the silence hang between them before a slow smirk slipped across his features, no matter how or why she was there, he was determined to make the most of the time. As she grinned he gave a small nod A hunter never gives away his secrets the playful drawl left his mouth as he leant back against the cool surface behind him, to watch him you would have half expected him to complete the pose and stretch his arms behind his head, crossing them into a head rest, but he did try not to be too cliche, and posing Quidditch play was way too over done.

The world suddenly seemed much more close around him not that he was no longer sat alone, the trees no longer seemed like long off scenery but something he could actually interact with, it was strange how the affect of one little woman could change his perspective so easily from a man who was watching the world go by to a man who was part of that world. Tilting his head slightly he traced the edge of her features, trying to figure out if he did indeed know her. The likelihood would be that they attended Hogwarts at the same time, she seemed of a similar age to him but the blondes of his past had a habit of all merging into one when he tried to pinpoint a particular familiar face. All he could deduce from his none existent memories was that she had not been a patron of his own house.

When she finally turned fully towards him he gave a smile to match her own, blue eyes meeting green as he lifted his arm and held it out towards her, offering a loose but cordial handshake, and his name. Emerson Avery it was getting all too boring to see girls fall off their seats when he introduced themselves, if they weren't triggered by his features, then his name would do it, but such shows of excitement hadn't been welcome for very long.

THIS POST IS TAGGED FOR ANY BODY! AND IS COMPLETE AT 604 WORDS.
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music: Undead - Hollywood Undead
notes: na-da.

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[VICTOIRE GABRIELLE WEASLEY]

YOU LIGHT UP MY DARKEST SKIES

[/b][/size]
making my heart feel sore[/size][/center]

Victoire gave a short little laugh at Emerson’s next comment. Her, as tough? Victoire knew what she looked like to other people, and despite her height, their first impression was usually “delicate”. Maybe it had something to do with the pale coloring of her skin, eyes, and hair, or maybe it was the fact that she had been perpetually thin since childhood. And despite how much she disliked being constantly underestimated by strangers, there wasn’t much she could do to appear differently, unless she wanted to go get multiple tattoos and piercings, which she didn’t. Victoire had to content herself with the fact that her trademark icy glare quickly got rid of the “sweet” persona, when she chose to use it. “Oh, very tough,” she agreed, laughter still in her voice. She knew that Emerson was just being charming, trying to respect her pride, but she wasn’t really affected by it—she just found it funny.

As silence hung in the air for a moment, Victoire had to appreciate Emerson’s technique. He was making this encounter almost suspenseful, and Vee actually found herself getting caught in the moment. It was too easy to do so—Emerson was handsome, interesting, alluring—and Victoire knew that she would have to watch herself and make sure she didn’t get too absorbed in this game of hers. “Well then, I’ll just have to guess your secrets. And I should warn you, I'm good at guessing.” Victoire accompanied this with a grin, seeing as she had an educated guess already.

Of course, she still felt uncomfortably intrusive, like some kind of stalker, knowing so much about the man next to hew when he knew next to nothing about her. Traditionally, their positions should’ve been reversed: the creepy man approaching a lone female he’d read about. Now, Victoire was portrayed as the creepy stalker man, which made her feel amused and rather disgusted with herself at once. She should have stuck with being a freelance journalist—at least then she was her own boss, and she could pick the stories she covered. But she had given that up for a day job, because frankly, the pay for a freelance journalist was close to nothing. And one of the sacrifices for a better paycheck was doing things she didn’t necessarily want to do. Oh well. It had to be done, even if it did make her feel like a stalker.

When he introduced himself, Victoire smiled a little, almost remorsefully. So the time had come for her to admit who she was and what she was technically in this city for. Maybe she should just take care of one thing at a time. Her name first, and her profession later. That way maybe she could keep him from walking away—she wasn’t here to interview him, after all. She took his offered hand, shaking it briefly. “I know--the Quidditch star. And I’m Victoire Weasley,” she returned, giving him a moment to process both the fact that she knew him, and the fact that she was a Weasley. Many former Slytherins had a dislike for her based solely on her last name, and she wondered if he would be one of them. After all, the name Weasley held many connotations, none of them particularly appealing to the ‘pureblood superiority’ state of mind.

tagged: emerson & open
word count: 555
lyrics: darkshines by muse

[EMERSON HUNTER AVERY]

LET'S WATCH THIS CITY BURN
from the sky lines on top of the world,!

[/font]

Settling back he exhaled deeply, watching as the wisp of visible breath snaked away from his mouth and danced into the night, turning and swirling over and over until it was snatched by the wind and pulled from his sight, gone forever as it dissipated into it's raw materials. The little show served as a slight distraction and something to clear his head, remember that he was in public and the company beside him deserved a side to him that wasn't exactly what he was craving. Since he had returned to England he hadn't allowed him self to truly let go, his training had demanded the physical side to him and the wandering mind of a young adolescent had kept his consciousness busy, usually tossing around the encounters that had befallen him back in the glorious country of france in which he had fallen into the trap of an elusive brunette beauty and been drawn into the arms of his ex childhood sweetheart. Both women were enough to keep his mind on it's toes and not allow him a moments peace, despite the fact that they were physically, no where near him. Shifting his weight he brought his length arms up behind them, resting them behind him as he felt the strong muscles that resided their flex lazily, moving the soft cushion of his hands behind his head he reclined slightly, an inclination that he was settling in, if not for the night, for a long period of time.

Though if he would admit it to anyone, he longed for a night in a nice little muggle pub. One that lined this particular road and allowed him to become anonymous within it's walls so he wouldn't have to worry about the whispered words of prying reporters or put up with the gold digging hooks of girls that lurked at every corner, determined to slice themselves a piece of his fame and his cash for their body. In such a world as this, insignificant things like that could wait, they wouldn't keep him alive when the time came to fight, wouldn't stop Rowan's army extending their reach if the Death Eaters failed, and ripping his heart from his chest as he watched the beating life giving organ leave him dead and gone. Thoughts like this were depressing, that was obvious, but caution was necessary, even in places like this, the beautiful blonde at his side could be a spy, someone sent to scope out his power and how easily he could be exterminated when the time came. If he had believed such a thing, maybe he would have moved up the bench, as it was he turned his face towards her and continued the conversation easily.

It had been her laugh that had interested him, short and sweet it had curled from her lip to assault his ears and capture her attention, this it had done effectively so that his eyes were now fixed on her own, his senses screaming for something to process. With a nod he accepted her words, deciding it was time to move on from that particular charm offensive and perhaps try something new. Maybe friendly? Nah, that wouldn't get him anything now would it. Flexing his fingers he gave a small grin, Oh really? Well I'm afraid in my business it is in my best interests to keep those secrets to myself, with a slight wink that was fast becoming a trademark reaction of his he continued in a low drawl Though, please, be my guest and try. Games were always fun after all.

As she spoke again, offering her name it wasn't a surprise his eyebrow began to raise, her name was obviously as well known as his own, possibly even more so because of her Uncle. Shaking her hand slowly, he gave another smile, pushing past the pride he felt that she had already recognized him, it wasn't rare after all. Ah a Weasley, with teasing tone he allowed his eyes to flash in amusement, as a Slytherin such girls as this were usually off limits, but he was a big boy now, and this was the big wide world. Well Victoire it is a pleasure to meet you.

THIS POST IS TAGGED FOR ANY BODY! AND IS COMPLETE AT 702 WORDS.
----------------------------
music: Undead - Hollywood Undead
notes: na-da.

[/font][/blockquote][/blockquote][/center]

[VICTOIRE GABRIELLE WEASLEY]

YOU LIGHT UP MY DARKEST SKIES

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making my heart feel sore[/size][/center]

Victoire smiled. She had an open invitation to guess what he was out here for, and she had to say, it would be a big surprise if she turned out to be wrong. Of course, her natural bluntness would ruin the atmosphere. If she were to just blurt out her answer, there would be no fun to that. This was a game, and it required a little more finesse. “Well, I have to be honest—there aren’t a lot of things you could be prowling for. You could be hunting the wildlife that runs rampant in the park, but I doubt that.” The possibility seemed very slim indeed, that this man would come out to the park in the night just to prowl around for a few songbirds. “So my guess would be that you came out here for the express purpose of finding…people.” Victoire was tempted to say ‘women’ instead of ‘people’, but she decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. After all, he hadn’t made any innuendoes towards her, maybe he was just out looking for company. Why not? He didn’t have to be a womanizer twenty-four/seven, no matter what a few other reporters claimed.

The air was crisp and cool, and the stone underneath her was not emanating cold anymore, since it was warming to her body heat. It was one of the reasons she liked autumn—the cold was bearable, just chilly enough for an extra layer or a hot drink. Not like winter, when it was too freezing to set a foot outside without boots and gloves and five layers of insulation. Not like summer, either, when it was muggy and steamy enough to make her sweat in the small amount of clothing she had on. Vee was picky when it came to weather. Now, she enjoyed the pretty sight of her breath crystallizing in front of her, and then disappearing into the air. She leaned back, feeling more comfortable when she didn’t have to sit up straight. Maybe it was good manners to keep a nice posture, but not much she had done so far this night had been good-mannered.

She watched him carefully as he processed her name, and she was a bit surprised to find that he didn’t grow a sneer like so many others did, nor did he insult her for being loyal to ‘that family of blood traitors’, as some people put it. He did seem amused by the fact, though, something Vee didn’t know quite what to do with. She was used to disdain or disapproval, or sometimes even shock, because, frankly, she didn’t look like a typical Weasley with her blonde hair, unfreckled skin, and blue eyes. But amusement and teasing she wasn’t used to, at least when it came to her last name and purebloods.

“Oh, it’s nice to meet me? I wasn’t expecting that. I was expecting something a little more in the ‘disgust’ category,” Victoire admitted with a teasing tone, even though it was true. She looked at him again with a curious expression, wondering if he really didn’t care, or if he was just being nice about it. Either way, it was a pleasant surprise to have part one of her identity revealed without much of a hitch.

tagged: emerson & open
word count: 546
lyrics: darkshines by muse

[EMERSON HUNTER AVERY]

LET'S WATCH THIS CITY BURN
from the sky lines on top of the world,!

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His face was pleasantly open as he sat there, untouched by the cold wind of the night and perfectly content to sit there on his little stone bench as this intriguing golden haired girl attempted to dissect the not so complicated machine that was Emerson Avery's mind. True many though he was a very two dimensional being, he had 2 loves; women and spot, but that was slightly untrue, he cared dearly for his friends and his Mother, he had a passion for fire whiskey that often meant he forgot his duty to the glorious game of Quidditch, and though in his mind he agreed fiercely with many of the ideals help up by his old housemates that were firm members in the ranks of the Death Eaters, he would never commit himself to such a cause that sought to take the lives of others through violence and disorder. No there were many things you could read about Emerson Avery, on just about every wizarding gossip column in the country, but there were many things that few but his closest loves ones would ever know. If this particular girl wanted to think he was this cad that wanted to do nothing but attempt to seduce new young women, then he would play that part for the night, it was, after all, a role he was exceptionally good in.

Tilting his head to one side to expose his ear more obviously to her eyes, a sign that he was clearly listening and waiting for her little assumption that her brain had formed. I'm afraid you are right on the animals front, I never did take to hunting, I found it awfully barbaric when he had been younger his Father had attempted to get him involved in the blood thirsty sport, but a mixture of his hatred for his father and the disgust he felt at inflicting pain on a helpless animal for pure amusement had put a stop to any sort of bonding time concerning the muggle gun. As she spoke again, a lazy smile spread across his sculptured lips and once the words became silent on her own he launched into his reply I suppose that is as close to the truth as you are going to hit m'love he paid no mind to the term of affection as he addressed her and instead mused over her words. The 'people' she had chosen to refer to were no doubt in his mind, simply 'females' but he did not let slip his suspicions. The answer had been expected, and he did not begrudge her such a typical reaction to him, but embraced it instead. I have to admit that company is always much more appealing to me than a night atop a stone bench in a park alone, but I had not planned on making any particular effort to meeting another he would have been content to sit here waiting.

As the memory of their introduction lingered, he watched as her face registered obvious signs of surprise at his reaction to her name. With friends that included many a Malfoy and a certain Slytherin Potter, Emerson was all too familiar with what it was like to be shunned simply because of the surname that had been tagged onto the end of your first one, no doubt this girl was used to a similar reaction to what Albus or Scorpius had always been. With a small shrug and a barely hidden grin he allowed the elegant arch of his eyebrows to hitch slightly towards his hair line, a mirror of how she had looked only moments before.

No I'm afraid I stand by the it's nice to meet you, there is very little about you that I find disgusting, and a name is nothing more than that, a name of course to some a name meant everything, especially to people such as Meissa, who built a life around 'Riddle' but to him he couldn't care less, if you judged everyone there were just less people to spend your time with weren't there? But if you prefer, I think I can manage to treat you with disdain

[/b] twisting his mouth into a look of disapproval he narrowed his eyes and finished with a teasing You disgusting Weasley brat.

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THIS POST IS TAGGED FOR ANY BODY! AND IS COMPLETE AT 712 WORDS.
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music: Undead - Hollywood Undead
notes: na-da.

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