slingsandarrcws

[slingsandarrcws]

neutrality would suit her. for now. no matter what, she knows what her family name speaks. purity, above all else. while the ideology is stupid - idiotic, even - to her, the brushes have stroked her in with it. even if her sympathies lie with freedom, freedom of knowledge, of livelihood, of everything... it is a fantasy, she knows, and one that neither side in this war seeks to promise. if the purists win, she will almost certainly find herself forced into the life of a proper pureblood witch. and the other side... well, she knows well enough that they'll assume enough about her to hate her, possibly forever. and there are magicks they will lock away even further, despite their potentials, despite the fact that knowledge itself is not evil, not cruel, not the thing that will bring anyone down. "i figured. much of it is boring. the politics, and some of the skills they fostered, however - fascinating stuff." she laughs, completely taken aback. "don't be absurd. it'd cost triple, if not quadruple whatever your father would be willing to let you pay for a trinket. it's not that dire, helena. our coffers will survive months of this ridiculousness. years, even. i promise."

artemis was right to worry ⏤ as long as the tide didn't shift in favor of the death eaters. helena wasn't sure what would be worse : her father and his friend's ravings winning a war, or the shame & humiliation of being stuck on the wrong side. ancient families brought to ruin based on where they arranged themselves. it was why helena made a point to stay as neutral as possible. maybe it was cowardly, but cowards lived to see another day. the same couldn't be said for the brave. " could care less about any kind of druidic history. " she agrees with a nod. " but if you really need that deal to go through, i'll buy it off you. might as well. father might like it ⏤ or he'll send it off and it'll make its way back to you so you can sell it again. "

[slingsandarrcws]

there's politeness, and there's propriety. artemis would not consider herself kind, warm, nor polite: she's proper. she was raised proper, and while much of that properness she has left well behind, with no chance of looking back (a good marriage, a life spent building her house, total deference to her so-called betters), plenty of it remains. "manners are often little more than a pointless performance. the world does not wait around for you to make up your mind, and while the barkeep might, they'd probably prefer not to."

she places a few coins on the bar to pay, and tips the shot back. the smooth burn against her throat, into her belly, is familiar. satisfying. "oh, my dear, i know plenty about patience. i just chose not to waste mine here, now, on something so small as a couple of drinks." she lifts her beer from the bartop, smirks a little over the lip of the glass. "i just don't think a pint's worth it, do you?"

hesitation as her father once told her was weakness in a way, a quick way to tell everyone that you weren't sure about something or even yourself and in this moment, as much as that could be a lesson, she was also taught common decency. she didn't bother to smile, she didn't have it in her to fake something - not today, not right now, "why apologize if you would do it again?" leaning over to flag the other bartender, "pint of the ale, please --"

"not everyone is patient -- impatience can be frustrating, but it's probably more frustrating for the person suffering through it, so i should be apologizing to you, right?" emmeline didn't have an intention to drive someone mad tonight but it sure beat her parents driving her mad.

[slingsandarrcws]

artemis smirks along with them, but it's not... complete. would that she could do anything to prevent it, the fate shackling so many like herself, so many of those she grew up with. the promise of marriage. a good one. were she herself not so invested in the family business, were she not the only borgin or burke who cared, who had any real skill or talent in their trade, she might be the same. were her father not so distracted, were her mother still alive... she shrugs. "i'm not sure she'd be able to." she says instead. "if it's to be inevitable, don't you want a say in it? turn the whole thing into her worst nightmare, i say." she lowers her voice a touch. "i heard tell there's a terrible underground market for it in america. though i can't see how half the things they supposedly sell as manticore hide could be real. then again, you'd know better than me, i guess." she grins. "fabulous. a rare opportunity not to have to queue up and fend off a bunch of idiots from trying to join us." she steps away, into the street. "ah, it won't last you that long - only a hundred or so pages. there are some beautiful sketches though."

narcissa always found it hard to make friends, even back in school they had a rough time but there were a few people that she had befriended and were still friends with now. they're grateful for artemis and their vast knowledge. it was an easy friendship and narcissa craved easy. "quite," she smirks. "she's gonna be pushing me down the aisle, i just know it." she didn't see a world where lucius malfoy and narcissa black were happy and loving together. "i'm still deciding if i want to make her life hell by being a very picky bride or just let her plan the whole thing." they sigh, shaking their head. "i don't even know how they could get manticore. just seems dangerous." then again, narcissa herself had a dangerous job. "no errands. i've finished. i would love a drink. we must enjoy this time where hardly anyone is out people will be back in the streets once they realize no one has actually died." salazar, it was just a skull in the sky. "you're the best. i will need something to read when i head back to romania."

[slingsandarrcws]

"you would." artemis' lips twitch with the hint of a smile, of amusement. she's not sure why she's so determined to antagonise this witch. probably just her own irritation at her afternoon. but she's not going to dwell on it, but rather indulge herself. a return to who she'd been as a teenager: cutting, sharp, something of a menace. it's been a while since she's had the opportunity. she takes a drag from her cigarette. "and the repotting was a success, i take it?" she doesn't care. it's just for the sake of having a reply.

"and if i do have business? i think i'm running low on wiggentree bark, you see." she replies, the lie thin, joking, taunting as it spills from her lips. she casts her gaze about. the shadows off the buildings are far from intimidating. dark wizards (or aurors) hiding among them would be foolish to come for her here. she tilts her head. "don't you?" she waves a hand out at the village. "i sincerely doubt there's much out there that could get me more than i it. i'd argue you and your mandrakes pose a much bigger threat. you're certain they're fully repotted? we wouldn't want a wee screaming incident sullying the good name of dogwood and deathcap, would we?"

"i'd have every right to." reaching the rest of the broken pots that laid forgotten behind the shop, winifred unceremoniously dropped everything in her hands, glad to still mostly be wearing the earmuffs that shielded her from the sound of clay hitting clay. with her hands finally free, she fully removed them, letting them rest on her neck as she turned to face the woman who had no business being here. “they needed repotting.” she found herself suddenly defensive, crossing her arms over her chest.

“if you don’t have any business with dogweed and deathcap, you need to leave.” anyone out this late, this far out of hogsmeade couldn’t be up to any good, winifred was sure of that. “don’t you know how dangerous it is out here?” she thought it was funny, the way her sister priscilla had said that to her when she’d started working at the shop. the biggest danger here was the plants inside, and she knew how to take care of them. still, maybe that would get the girl to leave.

[slingsandarrcws]

she turns to him with surprise - surprise she will let show, this time. it's a luxury. one hard gained, and deserved. he's interesting, as much as he may yet pose a threat, his company has proved far from boring, tiresome, or immediately threatening. "well, i won't ask twice then." it still proves a surprise, at times, to have won over men like himself. to be a witch in this world, a pureblood one at that, expected to marry and bear heirs and live out a life of window dressing, rather than of intrigue, professional success, even conversation - it is rather refreshing to be taken seriously to offer something more. even if the something more is as simple as a drinking partner, or a businesswoman. but she would not take it lightly. he may be a flatterer, a prospect - but she would not blind herself to the possibility that she would be dissected, all too simply, by someone so seemingly confident, so obviously adept as he.

she laughs a bit. a dragon egg would be a scandal anywhere, but to point it out - ministry work, that was certain. but which ministry? and which department? he hasn't offered the information. she won't press. "well, i'll take solace in the fact you aren't so foolish as to do anything so blindingly stupid and illegal. wouldn't want to be seen having a drink with you, were that the case." and now, her turn to smile, smug, and quirk an eyebrow at him. many a time she's been offered a peek at a strigoi artifact, diary, or some such. being overlooked as a witch has had its perks. but only once has the thing proved legitimate, of course. a small pocket diary, a few torrid memories, some peculiar, olden spells. it's tucked away in her private collection. worth more than selling. "are they, now? well, that's a shame."

she slips through the doorway, raised to duck, or make less of herself, but self-trained not to hide. she may be small, but she can sweep into a room with presence enough. "i'm not convinced i do, actually." but she leaves it at that. let him know he's been seen. picked up on. there's very little chance this dolohov could be insignificant. he's too clever. his eyes too sharp. he's noticed too much about her to be blind, or stupid, or unimportant. he just may not be important yet. "pleasure to meet you, mister dolohov." she continues towards the bar. "and fear not. i would have been cast aside for my dullard cousins, or the incompetent borgin lad by now, if i didn't know the dangers of loose lips." she smiles, and it's less a kindness now, more a transaction. something like a threat hidden behind. "swing by the shop anytime. if i'm not there, have them send for me. i'll make my way."

"a demand i can willfully agree to." ⎯ such a rare moment, for smile to grace waning face and even rarer for him to mean it. however, she was steadfast, composed, and overtly confident and antonin found himself rather impressed. how she carried herself, neither arrogant nor glib, but with a very astonishing and refreshing sense of honesty and confidence. he wonders briefly where the rightfully placed audacity comes from and can't help but admire it silently, between the two of them, a force he knew that just begged to be reckoned with. perhaps an ally indeed could be made in light of meeting circumstances. hand remaining in pocket as he wandered ever closer to their proper drinking destination, he chuckles briefly at her line of questioning. "⎯ now a dragon egg would be quite the scandal indeed. especially in my line of every day work." an auror with a dragon egg, however would rodolphus keep that particular exclamation of favoritism hushed would be beyond him. luckily enough for the both of them, that wasn't what he sought after. ⎯ as she continues her bout of curiosity, he finds himself fully enamored with the responses and more engaged than he had thought he would be in the beginning. fingers going to temple as he pondered, smile still adorning face. "well now, anything strigoi wouldn't be much more than a pipe dream, i'm afraid. as far as lore and legend go, i do believe those dealings are reserved for those baring bloodlines." stopping at the pub door, he moves to pull it open for her without thinking otherwise, a gentleman in manners while wearing a mask meant for public and he finishes it with a flourish of his arm, ushering her forward if she so chose to. a shake of his head continues his conversation. ⎯ "you think of me as far too interesting, miss burke. i am merely looking for any information on a rare dacian gold piece...said to be cursed by iele who was ill fortuned enough to fall in love with a romanian wizard centuries ago." pocketing the bracelet as fingers thumbed over gems. he had done a bit of research on it and it appeared to be nothing of note, but then again, the benefactor he had chosen to do business with wasn't exactly the most forthcoming with information. he supposed such was the apprehension when auror was a well known verb uttered in your name. a nod to her mention of work and he shrugs a half shoulder. she was being modest in his opinion, but he didn't express the sentiment until she spoke again. ⎯ "and here they say dedication and skill are a marriage of sorts." brow raising with a flourish of hand to his chest. "antonin. dolohov, as i realize i had not yet introduced myself. and as for the invitation of viewing more of your rarer items...so long as you do me the favor of never speaking of it in front of others, especially my colleagues, then ⎯ well, how could i say no to such an opportunity?"

[slingsandarrcws]

"in private sales, maybe." she retorts. sure, she's had plenty of owls asking to see any objects of interest with cloaking charms, disguising enchantments, even tomes on strange dark magicks - even one asking after a genuine invisibility cloak (she'd had to laugh, the insistent belief in such a child's tale. but then, stranger things had turned up, over the years). but the shop itself has been slower than ever. "if this keeps up, even those who feel safe won't want to be caught dead on the streets. the shame of it all." she sighs, turns to helena, her irritation quickly burned out into resignation. "an old staff. early iteration of what would become our handy wee wands, with a little... extra built in." garnet, half-hidden at the tip. the thing was terrifyingly adept at producing fire. "a fascinating little piece of old magic, could be terrifying in the right hands. but nothing you'd find particularly interesting, i'm afraid - unless you've developed a sudden obsession with eleventh century druidic history."

the admittance was odd. and terribly alarming, though she'd never say the words aloud. lines were being drawn, allegiances made clear, even among those who would never be at the front lines of anything. she's careful to keep her face neutral, but there's a downturn of her mouth as she considers artemis' words. " well, you'll made that back soon enough, i would hope. where there's smoke, there's fire. likely you'll start gaining customers as fast as you lose them. " how under scrutiny would their families be, she wonders ? she's already tired of it. rolls her eyes at the questioning. ridiculous, that she has to run errands her father should be doing himself. " very funny. what was that flake going to buy from you ? "

[slingsandarrcws]

artemis finds a smile somewhere, guard still up, somewhat - she still doesn't know this man, his intentions, what exactly it is he's doing out here in the middle of the street when most are hidden away at home. his words are still carefully chosen. though, she supposes, everyone's will be now. probably for a long time. "strikes me," she says, humour there now, "you might be paying for the first round to make up for it." who is he, she wonders, to be so confident as to offer a drink with a stranger, now. she'd rather not think it, but confidence now means one of two things. he, like herself, is untouchable by name, or by association. possibly both. dangerous as it would be to share any secrets, friends on all sides couldn't hurt. provided she doesn't ask for too many truths in return.

"romania?" she hums. "don't tell me you're after a dragon egg. you don't strike me as the beast-taming type." now that humour has made its way in, she allows it to settle, and herself with it. "no, you seem more like... it'd be something to do with strigoi, or... the solomonari? it's not grecul you're dealing with, is it? she can be terribly unreliable." her eyes hone in on the bracelet, narrowing. it doesn't draw to mind any stories she's heard, nothing tickling at the back of her mind. but she looks for long enough to remember it. she'll jot something down later, a drawing, a note of romanian trade. "ah, we've been collection for over a century. would be difficult not to have some impressive stuff, here and there." but the most impressive he wouldn't have seen. those are only for show in a private viewing, under very controlled circumstances. she'd know him, if he'd been into the vaults. "talent? ah, no. it's dedication. upbringing. a willingness for curiosity, and danger." a small lie: there's some talent. or perhaps skill - knowing who's telling the truth, reading the history, broadening the mind to all kinds of magicks. but he must know that. "i'd be happy to show you some of our rarer items, if you're ever interested."

"i suppose that's well deserved." ⎯ he's amused, a surprising turn of events given the previous few moments with the other. the wind picking up around them, reminding them all of the winter that was to come. tongue and cheek as her words were, they held no conflated sense of amusement, but antonin found himself having quite enough for the both of them. "⎯ i did after all, attempt to commit great acts of harm by way of door frame." he almost chuckles at the thought as fingers card through slicked back curls. sudden disapproval of the leaky cauldron falls away ⎯ there were seemingly worse ways to spend the afternoon and she'd earned a curiosity from him. a terribly difficult thing to do as of late.

the auror turned on heel, going to lead the way as they wounded back from knockturn alley and brows furrow at the question, head shaking in its quake. "neither, i'm afraid. ⎯ it's for a trade, they have something i am far more interested in. a buyer im romania, if you care to believe that." going to pull the offending item from pocket, he warmed it over in palm, producing a bedazzled bracelet of drips of scarlet and onyx. hearing her name, amber gaze flickers to her with a lightly hushed gasp, as if good fortune for himself. "oh well, i daresay i have been to your establishment a fair few amount of times. incredible artifacts yourself. i'm something of a collector, if i'm honest. though as a hobby, of course. never was quite talented enough to make a proper career of it."

[slingsandarrcws]

artemis burke isn't one to wait in line - especially not behind those who seemed not to know what they wanted, or who didn't seem to really want anything after all. she would not suffer stupidity or indecision, not if she could help it. hence, she'd slipped easily to the barfront, ignoring the witch who'd arrived just before her, and now, somewhat smug, calls across the beer taps - "pint of stout, please, love. and a firewhiskey." she turns to face the witch she'd cut off and smiles a little, shrugs. "sorry." it's a little disingenuous. "wasn't sure if you knew what you were after. i don't love waiting around."

𝑶𝒑𝒆𝒏 𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒓 | 𝑳𝒐𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏: 𝑳𝒆𝒂𝒌𝒚 𝑪𝒂𝒖𝒍𝒅𝒓𝒐𝒏

head hanging low, finger trailing alone the rim of her glass - she had barely finished her pint, it was as if she lost her will to drink. then again the prospect of seeing her parents tonight had that effect on her, that coupled with the late night patrols, it was the only reason she could imagine after the stunt in samhain. whoever had done it, whatever they had hoped to achieve - the one thing they had accomplished was the spread of fear.

emmeline couldn't deny the sight of the mark casted in what was a beautiful night sky felt like it's own omen of death or what was to follow, moving to signal to the bartender, she almost didn't hear someone call for --

[slingsandarrcws]

she keeps up the pretense all too easily. her surname, her upbringing, they provided a lifetime of playing along carefully. not to mention her obsessions, her practice at mind-games. still with a slight edge, she shrugs. "hm. well i suppose it is on you, then." she mutters, privilege, ignorance, a lack of care all coloring her voice. the door closes behind him, and she smirks a little. at least she's avoided going in there. better anywhere than inside with the dust, must, the sad, old, uninteresting sort of clientele they tended to attract. she steps back. pockets away her pack of cigarettes, his disinterest quite clear by now. but they'd done their job. "the leaky cauldron it is."

she knows he doesn't really want to join her for a drink, and nor she him - but two people, out of the shadows, strolling towards a reputable establishment is certainly a better way of keeping up appearances in these times, than shuffling along herself, glaring at everyone who might dare to look her way. it'll at least keep anyone from thinking she might be around on business. the weight of the amulet tucked away in the inner breast pocket of her coat still drags on her mind. but his next words pique her interest, however. cool, she reminds herself, keeping her voice even. "an antique? how... curious. was it one of personal attachment? or merely an... item of fascination?" she considers a moment. if he's being truthful, it couldn't hurt. she pauses in her walking, holding out her hand. "i happen to be in the... artifacts business, funny enough. artemis burke. of borgin and burkes."

nuances so subtle, he almost assumed she'd hoped he wouldn't pick up on them. however, he didn't quite get to where he was as an auror by missing the most obvious, even if less than so to the other. a frazzled nature was it? ⎯ not quite, more of an annoyance. misdirected at him like a ornery cat. "not quite the reason i would give. more of ⎯ i was simply....distracted."

he doesn't bother to elaborate before shoulder falls from door and he allows it to swing shut while a gloved hand tightens jacket around frame. with the days growing colder, crawling ever closer towards winter, he would do better to remind himself to begin dressing more warmly for outings such as these.

"by all means, i do believe the leaky cauldron is preferential around this time. long before the after-dinner rush. care to join me?" ⎯ his voice attempts a casual hitch, not quite thinking much of it. his apathy a high regard and he knows it bleeds through his outward sentences but he merely does nothing to stop it. if others felt it engaging, then he saw no reason to fix something that simply was not broken. looking back at the shop and then back to her, he shrugs a shoulder, no sense in not telling the woman the truth about what he was doing. ⎯ he had nothing to hide. "⎯ my business is quite finished. i was just picking up an antique of sorts. a personal hobby of mine...finding new and deserved homes for things otherwise forgotten by time, m'afraid."

[slingsandarrcws]

"having a smoke, you moron." she bites back, as tetchy as she's likely to allow anyone to see her - were it not lucius, who wasn't likely to hold it against her, who'd seen her as annoyed as this with idiotic customers, flaky sellers, and outright liars, she'd have schooled herself back to coolness by now. "don't be a prat. i'll hex you." she looks down at her cigarette. takes one last half-hearted drag, then tosses it out onto the freezing pavement.

he drifts inside, and she follows, slipping behind him as the door smacks back into its framing. "well, i finally had someone interested in the amulet of creirwy - you know, the one i picked up like, six summers ago? same effect as an average love potion, but in a tiny radius? they'd have paid over 600 galleons for the thing. might've pushed them to 700. but everyone's too afraid to be caught dead anywhere near here, now, i suppose. prat." she frowns, still put-out. "what're you doing here? in need of anything, or just checking on business?"

the  blonde  wasn't  quite  sure  what  to  make  of  it  all,  but  one  thing  he  knew  for  certain  was  that  business  needs  to  be  be  taken  care  of  as  normal.  nothing,  not  even  some  dark  omen,  would  stop  him  and  his  goals.  thus,  he  made  his  own  assumptions  that  artemis  burke  would  be  inclined  to  agree  and  keep  the  shop  open  even  on  the  worst  of  days.  ❝  what  the  hell  are  you  doing  ?  ❞  his  eyes  drift  from  the  ashes  on  the  floor  to  the  anger  that  was  noticible  on  her  face.  ❝  maybe  don't  stand  right  behind  the  door  to  your  own  shop  for  a  change.  ❞ unapologetically,  he  glides  into  the  shop,  letting  the  door  behind  him  slam  back  shut.  lucius  takes  a  look  at  the  vast  collection  the  store  held.  turning  to  artemis  again,  he  gives  her  an  inquisitive  eye.  ❝  what's  got  you  on  edge  ?  besides  the  obvious,  of  course.  ❞

[slingsandarrcws]

it's her least favourite part of business, manning the store. more often than not, it's students passing through to giggle and poke at the more gimmicky items on display, aurors in terrible disguises checking that they're not flogging dark magicks and cursed jewellery, or wixen without the brains or the galleons to know what they're looking for, let alone afford anything. it's a slow day, at least, so she's able to perch behind the counter, alternating between drawing identification runes on new pieces of inventory, and catching up on her reading.

there's a noise as the door opens and a man slinks in - the necromancer, she thinks, from a few shops down. rosier. not an area of magic she's ever had any personal interest in, but a fascinating one nonetheless. at least he's likely to take care of himself, find whatever it is he's looking for. she drags her wand across the small clock in front of her, shaping out another rune. the rune glows silver, then red, then fades. "fucking thing." no sign of magic at all, so far. she'd hoped to find it was an older, larger version of a time-turner. no such luck. her father was prone to this, being sucked in by promises rather than proof. at best, the clock was going to be charmed to update itself for daylight savings. completely uninteresting. more wall dressing, she supposes, to appease the aurors. she's about to cast another, to check for minor enchantments, when there's a shout from across the room. she looks up at the necromancer. one eyebrow raises. a soft, dangerous kind of smile grows with it. "i am." it comes out saccharine, the kind of kindness that can only hide a barb behind it. she punctuates her words with a quick crack of her neck. "my name is artemis. and in my store, we do not shout, and we certainly don't address ladies, least of all those on our staff, with oi. rosier, i presume? anything i can help you with today?"

@slingsandarrcws

every so often avan would make a point to wander around the prospective businesses at knockturn alley in an attempt to find further books on necromancy or artifacts that gave off any sort of necromancy magic. surely it wasn't an easy process and he mostly went back to his own shop empty handed having already procured the lot of books and artifacts for his own, but it was a process that he felt was necessary to keep the items in store new and exciting. surely customer engagement wasn't everything, but every now and again someone would surprise him with their interest.

moving through the lingering bodies that littered knockturn alley, he's quick to make a sharp turn into borgin and burkes – not wanting to be hassled by anyone trying to sell him some black market level of potion or trinket he'd find little to no use for.

letting out a sigh a hand runs through his hair as he began to wander through the shop, ready to toss his hello to the shop owner but only just realizing the old man that he'd generally seen behind the counter was now replaced with someone much younger. pausing, he takes a few steps back with a furrowed brow, "now who are you? don't think i've seen you in here before... usually its the old man..." nose gives a bit of a twitch as his sense of smell picks up on something, garnering the thought that this might be the old man's kid. "oi, are you orion's kid?" he'd mentioned her once or twice in passing, surely avan hadn't really paid much attention to it. he wasn't one for children himself, but it was a shot in the dark he was willing to take and a backstory he could use as a cover if his senses were having an off day if he were questioned about it. he knew it was stupid to call attention given his unregistered status, but hopefully he could paint this in a way that wasn't too suspicious.

[slingsandarrcws]

she's always liked narcissa: she'd been interesting at school, seemingly unbothered by the usual expectations of family, of society. rather like artemis herself. "oh, no. not yet. but the looks some people have given me... i'm getting rather tired of justifying why i might dare to pop over this side of the alleys." her eyes roll. "it's only going to get worse, so i suppose i'd better get used to it. paint on a pretty face for the bastards." she gives narcissa a quick once-over, wondering how different it must be for them, their overbearing, omnipresent mother, forever pushing for what seems to artemis a fate worse than death. "something tells me she may go on wishing a long while yet." she wonders, sometimes, were it not for the war, were it not for family, for their rather more brazen sister, whether narcissa might've left england altogether. whether it might have been a happier existence, out in the wilderness with just dragons for company. not that it matters, all that much. "it does seem a tad morbid. must've cost a fair few knuts, then. what'd they go for instead? occamy hide? manticore - oh, that would not be cheap." her gaze follows narcissa's, out at the near-empty street, the closed doors and dim lights. "well, my afternoon's free now. my two-o'clock didn't show. you have any other errands to run? we could go for a drink - oh, don't let me forget, i've a book back at the store you might find interesting. just a translation of some 15th century dragon sightings in france, i've been holding onto it for you."

narcissa had always thought artemis had an interesting job. they had poked their head into the shop a time or two just out of curiosity but never purchased anything themselves. but still, most of that was just to bother artemis just to see how she was doing. though it must have been a very daunting job given aurors found themselves sniffing around the area unwanted. "salazar, has it been that bad?" she raises an eyebrow with an amused laugh. "well, actually i do believe it has been that bad." there was a heavy auror presence, she just hoped that her sister was one of them amongst all of them. "oh, i think my mother wishes i were a bit more boring." she smirks. her mother had been trying to turn her into a socialite since she was little, little did her mother know it was never going to happen ( until it inevitably does ). they look down at their boots and smile, resizing it to fit into her pocket for later. "it doesn't seem wise to be wearing dragonhide boots when working on a dragon reserve. i needed something else and they were willing to accommodate." she sighs, looking around them. "where are you headed now? i'm assuming something has gone awry?"

[slingsandarrcws]

clearly, part of her mind bites back, skin prickling still in her annoyance. the gaze he sets upon her is a little too calculating, a little too sure of himself - or at least it feels that way. just in case, she whittles the thoughts away behind a falsity of nervousness at the political situation. there aren't so many known legilimens around, but it could never hurt to practice, nor to be careful. misdirection, she'd learned, served better than a wall. in many contexts. his hands dig deep against his pockets, too, and she very carefully does not react. hiding from the cold, she forces herself to think. but the twitch was seen, and tucked away for later. "easy enough to miss me, i suppose. i haven't ever struck the tallest figure."

she looks between him, and the door, considering. her afternoon looking ever freer, a useless second cousin left to run the shop in its emptiness. better him to be raided by the aurors than she. she might be a practiced occlumens, but she knows where the vaults are. and what they hide. no telling how quickly her mind might be invaded, if the ministry were to stoop low enough to try it. "not exactly, though the way my afternoon's going, a pint sounds better than not, now." she raises the cigarette to her mouth again, dragging down to the filter. she shuffles back from the door anyways. close it, the subtle message. "wouldn't have been my first choice of establishment. were you leaving, or...?" she fishes the pack from her pocket. offers it up. "just out for a smoke?"

"ah...excuse me, 'fraid i didn't see you there." hands delve deeper into jacket pocket as he settles wrested fingertips against the artifact he'd just spent an exuberant amount of time gathering up. the hobby of dealing in all forms of art came with a formality of the odd shop dealing and he was more than thrilled to find a buyer for the meticulous construction of haphazard metals and crystal that now was tucked safely inside of laced pocket.

the slight annoyance that lay entrapped behind features of neutrality slipped past in the form of a slight smirk. amber gaze looking her over as if appraising whether the other was quite alright. in reality, he didn't actually have any regard toward wellbeing. ⎯ it was just a door after all. "⎯ were you looking to head inside?" he did the polite thing, keeping the door held open but his patience would waver sooner or later the longer they stood, staring at each other needlessly.

[slingsandarrcws]

oh, artemis thinks. great. someone who'll definitely make her day better. this'll definitely make up for the hundred galleon loss due to her collector's cowardice. but she doesn't miss the way mulciber's arms tighten a little at her chest. she stows that one away for later, coolly raising her free hand to wipe away the smudge at her cheek.

"a buyer flaked on me." she answers, voice even, schooling her face into something closer to arrogance than is usual for her. it's the language so many of them speak, those with surnames like theirs. arrogance, posturing. "i was meant to make a week's worth of sales in one transaction, but it seems the bastard got scared off by that little light show." the little light show. the murder it broadcast to the world. a couple bloody spells, and now. well. there's only one conclusion, isn't there? "and why're you scurrying about? run out of bread and hemlock?" she should leave it at that. but the look in helena's eyes had grated against something in her. artemis lets her eyes glint, a little. it's not cruel. it's reciprocity. and yeah, she's ticked off. "daddy send you out to fetch some floo powder and a paper for him? got you earning your inheritance, for once?"

' oh, relax, burke. the door creaks anyway. you had plenty of time to move out of the way. ' helena twirls a lock of hair on her finger. she makes a face at the remnants of ash dusting artemis's cheek, holding what she'd bought closer to her chest. mulciber sr demanding she get herbs at the apothecary for her brother — she hated the errand, hated how it had to be done with as much secrecy as possible lest her brother's condition be known. but sometimes she was able to encounter some fun. artemis burke in distress seemed fun. ' what's got you looking so miserable ? ' she looks around, but no one else is lazing enough to stop. figures. it's too late for anyone to be doing business they care to be recognized in. well, anyone except her. ' the little light show ? seems that's on everyone's minds now. '

[slingsandarrcws]

the smell of soil and fertiliser and greenness tickles at her nose, hidden beneath her smoke. she probably should have questioned the meeting place, suggested somewhere that wasn't practically on another person's business, but it was the first time in years someone had been interested in the amulet. she learned early on not to ask too many questions of her family's clients. some had ended painfully, others in the simple loss of a sale. it isn't always easy to tell which it'll be.

"going to report me for trespass, are you?" she's gotten over it, her nose still intact & her pride only just smarting for how she'd reacted. her eyes dart to the earmuffs. "oh, no, i don't think i will. not here, at least. but wandering around with those glued to your head, you're bound to do someone some damage." she takes a drag from her cigarette, maybe just to regain some levelheadedness. "mandrakes urgently needing some care, is it? always hated those little fuckers."

war seems to be the only word on anyone's mind, on every side of the battle. since samhain, it was as though winifred had moved back home — her father breathing down her neck, her sisters looking to her for answers. unfortunately, winnie didn't have any answers; just more questions that would probably forever go unspoken. trying to not think about it, she threw herself at her work, deciding that repotting the mandrakes was more important than anything else for now.

with her earmuffs still firmly on her head, she pushed the backdoor of dogweed and deathcap open with her side, hands occupied by all the old, half broken pots. if there hadn't been any resistance on the door, she wouldn't have noticed the other woman. "you shouldn't be back here in the first place." winifred pushed back her earmuffs and placed the clay pots on the ground, frowning at the other. "you'll get yourself killed."

[slingsandarrcws]

were it not for the fact that the particular amulet she'd hoped to sell today had been burning a hole in their shelves & ledgers for a decade now, expensive, dangerous, and obscure, artemis mightn't have been nearly so annoyed. and yet. now she'll be stuck with it, and during a week where they're almost certain to be raided. her hidden vaults are getting too full for her liking.

but the voice ringing out is one she recognises - one she actually likes. rare, and a relief. her face softens some as she takes in the sight of narcissa black, caught up in apology. "oh, thank merlin, it's you." she says quietly, more relief in her voice than she'd have liked. "no, black, no need to apologise. i should watch where i'm going." she drags what she can from the end of the cigarette, then drops it, stubbing it out beneath her foot. "ah, the things our parents say about us. if only half of it were true, we might all be a touch more interesting, hm?" her eyes flit to the package they're holding, blinkhorn's printed bright across the top. "good taste. i've never bought a pair i wasn't happy with, from them."

while the rest of the wixen world were hiding narcissa had continued life because what else were you to do? she knew that she was safe, if not by her name, or status, but the company she kept. truthfully while odd it was nice not having diagon so crowded it made their errands much quicker. they just came to blinkhorn's to get their boots they had custom made. it's hard to find ethically sourced material and narcissa did her research well. they needed them for the sanctuary, while it was a highly exciting job it certainly wasn't glamorous. when they exit they don't realize the person there, until she recognizes them. "oh, so sorry, burke." she "do you need assistance? mother always said i was a bit brash. i just didn't see you."

[slingsandarrcws]

it's not as if artemis makes a habit of visiting muggle pubs. it just happened to have been the preferred meeting place of a client who wanted to purchase a set of cutlery that happened to be... not quite governed by magical law. kind of. it was blurry. and the bartender at the time had happened to be him. a wizard. someone she knew from school - knew from rumors, really, that swirled around her circles, about the eldest son of the black family. her eyebrow raises ever higher towards her hairline as he speaks, even as she scans over the words inked into parchment. "that doesn't answer my question." she says quietly. almost as if she'd rather it didn't get heard. she swirls a glass of wine in one hand, shrugs the other shoulder. "i typically wouldn't, you know. be caught dead at that bar." she takes a sip. "probably more a foregone conclusion, than a worry." artemis tilts the book upwards, the cover facing him. it's a series of runes, embossed in gold, over fading, cracked leather. "a treatise on women's magick in ancient mesopotamia. why? you hoping to borrow it once i've finished?"

being a bartender was about the last position remus wanted. but his options were few and far between and he was at a point where he needed to take WHATEVER job he could get. the stigma against werewolves made it so that he wasn't able to work in the wizarding world and even in the muggle world, disappearing for a week every month didn't bode well. it wasn't JUST the full moon that threw him off his axis. it was the leading up to and handling the aftermath that took time. the days before, he was aggressively moody, uncharacteristically temperamental, depressed and vulnerable. and well, the days after were just gory. his body would be littered with all sorts of self-inflicted wounds that took long to heal. he rested his cheek upon the palm of his hand, " if you're THAT worried, you can always ask for a different bartender. or just not come to that bar in general. " again, the whole bartending thing was new for him. he only got the job because the muggle pub was a shithole and they were desperate. he wouldn't recommend that pub to anyone. " well at least they don't have to worry about me drinking on the job and stealing their liquor. whatcha reading? "