#thehunteternal

[ladybellatricks]

Where There’s Smoke :: Closed Para

@thehunteternal

The small witch stood silhouetted in flickering lamp light on a dark corner, her face deeply shadowed by the hood of her cloak. Impatiently she checked a small silver watch, the emeralds set around the face glistening in the sallow cast of the magical flames. The cloud cover made it impossible to see the sky or any of its inhabitants, the perfect night for cloak and dagger behaviors. 

Tracking wasn’t what Bellatrix usually found her skills employed for, but after what felt like months of sitting pretty, she had lept at the chance to be loosed from her cage. She had to surmise that they didn’t much mind what state they brought their target back in, having allowed herself and the mongrel to track down the unfortunate soul. 

Speaking of the beast she found herself tied to for the night, she grew impatient waiting for his appearance. She was not a woman who appreciated being made to wait, nor was she known for her patience with those who did. Time passed more easily once she began picturing exactly how she would pull his rotten teeth, one for each minute he had made her wait. 

Her violent daydreams swirled like the heavy fog at her feet, and she began to imagine the homecoming they would give the young man they sought. The son of a Pureblood family, he had grown fearful and abandoned their fold the night before he was to take his mark. The Dark Lord did not take to cowardice well, and disloyalty even less so. He would return, and whether he had the privilege of serving would be decided by her Master himself. 

Bellatrix leaned into the shadows, the feeling of eyes suddenly upon her. Wand pressed to her palm, her eyes glinted with the hunger of violence. 

“Come to play?” She crooned. 

[bewarethesirenscallarchived]

Fresh Poison | A & F

Almost four months had passed since Arielle had begun tracking the wolf and three full cycles of the moon had come and gone since they’d left for France. They were no closer to the truth but not for lack of trying, Fenrir in his element was a force to be reckoned with. He never failed to impress with his incredible prowess.

He wasn’t so bad as far as roommates go. He grunted at her when he needed something, got angry at her when she was stubborn, protected her when the monsters under the bed became reality... the fact that she’d warmed up to him the minute she’d first laid eyes on the beast wasn’t something she should have allowed, also wasn’t something she could help.

Now? As she sat on the window sill watching the wind pick up the leaves and twirl through the air, she wondered when the dynamic had truly shifted in her mind. Twilight fell on the picture perfect landscape beyond the safe house they were currently occupying and it was hours before she realized what she was waiting for... 

Fenrir was late.

He was never late. Not once in the 121 days since they’d started this journey had he missed check-in. Closing her eyes, her lips moved in a soft murmur of near silent prayer. Fenrir was only days out of the full moon, she had begged him to stay. To follow the lead tomorrow... but her wolf was as stubborn as she. She was no longer worried he’d leave her... no, now she was worried he’d be hurt because of her...

Another hour flew by and still she remained, watching, waiting... He’d be back soon. Any minute now...

@thehunteternal

[viciousvisagearchived]

A Devil’s Playground | R & F

Off the back of the poisonings, and the mission’s his wolf was currently working, it had been far too long since the pair had gotten together. Whilst Fenrir wasn’t exactly the most chatty of company, he was still the closes friend, the only true friend, Rodolphus had. 

The summons had been sent to him in the form of an owl, a cordial invitation to join the younger wizard for a spot of Brandy. It was a loose invitation, knowing Fenrir was currently away on further business, but one that conveyed the necessity, nonetheless. 

He’d sent it that morning, knowing Fenrir would appear within the Mansion when he was good and ready. He was the only one allowed to keep his own timetable when Rodolphus was involved, and one of the fair few who were allowed to apparate within his walls unannounced. So long as he didn’t bloody well kick his house elf across the room again. 

He’d spent the day working from home, just in case. Waiting, busying himself with paperwork, he wandered idly what the hell he was up too. Whatever it was, Fen had been working it for months now, most of his days spent either with Rod, his pack, or this mission.

It had nothing to do with the Dark Lord, that much was certain. He hadn’t been able to figure anything else out... But the flurry he’d caused with the Dearborn Kidnapping required a personal toast and an award winning, coveted smile from one Rodolphus Lestrange. 

After a few too many hours seated at his chair, the Lestrange Heir rose from the confines of his desk, groaning as his long legs stretched out. Heading towards the library, he smiled to himself at the cackling fire, the only light in an otherwise dark wook and leather-bound-filled room. He’d always loved it in here.

The drink cart was in the far corner and he crossed the space in a matter of moments, pouring himself a glass of scotch before taking a seat in one of the large leather single arm chairs. The flames licked at the air, heating it. He lapped up the warmth as it infiltrated his body. Closing his eyes for a moment he decided he would continue to wait here, taking his mind off the troubles of the world until his wolf arrived...

@thehunteternal

[regiisbellatrix-blog]

the pine | f & b

The eerie glisten of the moonlight on this evening was invigorating. A perfect setting to the evening ahead, a stunning backdrop to the expected horrors that were possible in occurring.

Not many stood up to Rodolphus’ role as Bella’s partner, both in life and in more… trivial pursuits. Fenrir Greyback, it seemed, was one person whose role both in her life and in her entertainment both led to utter demise and the chaos of which Bellatrix often craved. Most hurt came from anger, a personal vendetta, a purge of all that somebody had done to a person. Greyback’s own mystical brand of vengeance seemed to stem from nothing, seemed a purely joyful sport- it was something that Bellatrix (although never having said it out loud) admired, a spark which she saw in her own eyes, capabilities which she knew her hands would enjoy participating in.

The whistle of the wind wound a smirk onto Bellatrix’s lips, her body reclining innocently against the wall of the abandoned factory. They seemed to play at ploys often, roles which excited and gave hope to the victim. Nothing, in essence, seemed to dim the joy of those they victimised more than hope being shredded right in front of their helpless faces. The witch knew not to cackle, cloaked in black she was a figure of light in a world where it seemed there was no escape.

The young witch’s eyes seemed thick at this point, laden with boredom. Fenrir had never been one to keep to time, and although Bellatrix wasn’t methodical in her own stylings the thought that he would’ve had all the fun was a growing frustration for her. Perhaps because she had her own frustrations to filter; Bellatrix wasn’t entirely sure she was ready to play and not get the fun she deserved. That was probably why the far-off scuffling seemed such a joyous occasion for her, why her eyes lit up as she spotted a shadow in the distance, struggling to hold their weight up. She’d watched without much care, taking some sort of enjoyment in the ensuing struggle that came. Fenrir would’ve been close, would’ve had to starve himself from the thrill for just a moment. Bellatrix knew it’d all be worth it in the end.

The figure grew larger, coming closer before the body collapsed to the floor. She figured that in his haze he’d struggle to recognised her; Bella’s smirk contorted her features as she stepped towards the body, tired but not completely lifeless. She was glad that Fenrir hadn’t left her easy pickings- he knew how much such things annoyed her. Leaning down, Bellatrix didn’t need to feign concern, the thick of the night would’ve warped his memory, made falsities of all that he had been seeing anyway.

    “Are you okay?” The dry disinterest of her words didn’t seem to translate, a hand moving to grip her clothes for dear life. Bellatrix held her scoff, let her eyes watch gently as she waved her wand, allowing easier access to lift his body. “What happened to you?”

She was, in no sense of the word, a hefty figure. Her strength only came from her excitement, the quiet shuffling of his feet seemed supported by it, made the fact that he’d ruined her drapes somewhat worthy. She’d pulled him forward, into the quiet of the warehouse, fixtures just there enough that it’d convince him he was alright, especially in the state that he was in.

     “Have a drink.” She passed the potion, bubbling ever so gently and pressed the cup to his lips. The man drank. She smirked.

The wait would soon be over.

@thehunteternal

[macdonaldmr]

little red || closed starter

Mary had always been an outdoorsy type of girl. The result of an upbringing in the Irish countryside as well as many hikes throughout Ireland with her parents when they were still living. So when she had an opportunity to go out and spend some time in the great outdoors, she usually reveled in it. There were nice dense forests all throughout England and as soon as Mary mastered apparition, she would usually set out on a trip whenever she had free time. Sometimes she would take a partner, sometimes she would just set off by herself at random. This particular forest was new to her but she had found a map of the hiking trails not too long after her arrival. She usually wasn't the type of person to deviate from the map, especially when alone, but she had been feeling a bit down these past few days and thought a little sense of adventure might help perk her up a bit. 

Things in her life were not good right now. Mary found herself feeling lonely lately but she was often times afraid to reach out to anyone. All of her friends were dealing with their own problems. Lily had been so worried about James, Mary didn't want her best friend to worry about her as well. She had been working a lot and not sleeping much, her anxiety keeping her awake. The rash of mysterious poisonings as well as a whole litany of other events were dredging up the negative feelings she tried so hard to hide. When she fell asleep she would see her parent's faces, covered in blood. It was all too overwhelming for the young witch.

She often wondered what it would be like if she had never been born. They would still be here at least. They might have had another child, of course, but perhaps this child wouldn't have inherited any magical powers. Perhaps this child would've made them extremely proud. Gone off to a prominent muggle university in Ireland or anywhere really, maybe even the United States. Not wasting away fighting a war against terrifying enemies. It was entirely her fault, her parents had died for what she was. If she hadn't been so strange, so different, maybe they would still be here? Or perhaps if she had been home that night? Maybe Mary could've done something to help them. She had only been an eleven year old girl but maybe she could've gotten help somehow. Or better yet, maybe she could be dead too. At least she wouldn’t have to deal with the pain left in the wake of their premature deaths. It was a dark thought but in some ways, it was rather comforting.

Mary shook her head as if to shake all the negative thoughts out of her mind. She had been wandering for awhile now. In her haze of emotion, she hadn't necessarily been paying attention to where she had been headed. Initially she had felt quite calm out here all by herself but she could feel her anxiety building, though it wasn't just her emotions taking hold. Mary had felt a little off as soon as she had apparated here, like something might be lurking in the dense greenery. Ignoring her intuition, she had plowed on through the sea of dead leaves. It had been a nice walk for the first forty minutes but then that feeling returned some time later, like someone might be watching her. 

She took a deep breathe, trying to reassure herself that she was fine. She was alone. If she happened upon anyone out here, it would probably be a muggle - hiking just like herself. Mary had her wand safely tucked into the pocket of her jeans, a muggle camera hanging on a thick strap around her neck. She had hoped to maybe get a few photos of some interesting looking plants or animals, something she could frame for her shabby little flat. Her wellies were now covered in mud. It had rained the night before, making the ground soft and soggy. Off the path, it was starting to feel like she was sinking into the ground. It wasn't until she heard a twig snap somewhere close to her that she actually began to feel afraid.

@thehunteternal

[silenciorosier]

The Hunter || Fenrir & Evan

Based on This Theme

@thehunteternal

Finally. Evan had been granted luck but the whims of fate itself. The Dark Lord had seen fit to rewards his many missions of patient espionage by offering him the opportunity to ‘cleanse’ a tiny hamlet in the middle of the English countryside; what the muggles within it had done to specifically earn he ire of their leader he didn’t know and he cared even less; all he knew was that by the morning sunrise the crimson rays would reflect off crimson grounds and the only song to be heard would be the dying wails of the few he’d left in agony for a few more short moments.

But, to make the evening even better? His ‘partner’ for the escapade: Fenrir Greyback. Evan had always possessed a fascination for the gore, the blood and the viciousness the would could produce, his love for that was second only to his love of creating the gore, blood and viciousness. But, Fenrir... he was something of a force of nature and it would be an honour watching him in action. 

The pair were sat in the only pub in this little spec of insignificance masquerading as a hamlet and attracting more than a few glances due to being the only two in here that couldn’t name every other patron and he was somewhat revelling in it. Meeting the gazes with a charming smile as anticipation boiled in his gut, he couldn’t wait much longer!

“My friend,” he said, soft voice utterly polite as he lent a little closer to speak with the other. “Please, do let me have take the first move? It’s been far too long.” he breathed softly, “And I truly don’t think I can wait any more...” 

[viciousvisagearchived]

Of Devils & Wolves | F & R

For almost a decade now, the pair had grown close, had become thick as thieves. Rodolphus remained to this day, the only other being on this earth that had bested him in a fight. The win was marginal but it was a win nonetheless. That day had been what sealed their fate, had changed the course of their destiny and bound them together, bound them still, all these years later.

It was what brought them to this very moment, deep in the lower levels of the Lestrange mansion seeing to it that Fenrir’s fist connected with Rodolphus’ jaw with a force so strong, the snap back of his neck occured in slow motion. The spray of blood from his newly split lip reflected against the luminescent glow of the lights dangling above them as he brought his focus back to the wolf.

Eyes tracked the beast as he prowled the mats before him. Their sparring sessions had been a frequent occurrence, one of the few who could keep Fen on his toes and provide a solid match for the Lestrange Heir. He relished in their sessions, the pain only Fenrir could elicit was something he longed to feel.

For a short while, the world beyond the walls encasing them melted away. He was not the right hand man to Voldemort, he was not the Heir to his family's fortune or the future husband to the loose canon that was Bellatrix Black. He was not a revered man, a feared man...there was no such thing as control or weakness, light or dark… there was only Fenrir Greyback.

The grin that spread across his lips showed crimson stained teeth as he raised his hands once again. “Is that all you’ve got for me?” Both men were alike, wearing only loose sweatpants as they danced across the open space in a dangerous tango. It had only been minutes on the floor and naturally Fenrir landed the first hit...though sometimes, Rodolphus would let him.

The pain fuelled him, it made him feel alive in a way nothing else could. The pair poured all emotion into their duels, every time. It created a friction that only they felt, the sparks against bare chest drawing them together and forcing them apart like two magnets with negative facing the same way. Their movements beautiful in their execution as the younger male snapped a fake hit to the ribs before landing a kick across muscle padded thighs.

He felt a surge of adrenaline flow through him as he lunged in again, only to be stopped short by a swift take down. The thud to the ground knocked all the air from his lungs but it wasn’t enough to stop him. Rod’s legs lashed out, pulling the wolf down beside him. Without thinking, without hesitation, he threw himself on top of Fen, straddling him as he held the bastard down.

“You holding back on me tonight, or are you just not feeling it?” He asked darkly, eyes raking over the exposed chest of his comrade. The ink that stained his skin matched that, that marred his own hands and knuckles, tattooed with markings not dissimilar. Of course, they both shared the Death Eater’s Mark on their forearm but it was nothing compared to the exquisite drawings etched into Greybacks canvas.

A fist connected with Fenrir’s temple, his head snapping across the padded floor. He often wondered if the bones beneath him were made of calcium or adamantium, no matter how many times he hit the other, his knuckles still ached with every connection. 

“Any time you want to cry Uncle…”

@thehunteternal

[viciousvisagearchived]

H E A D C A N O N // TATTOOS

Rodolphus has ink covering the top of both his hands. It’s full coverage that reaches his top knuckles, with letters one each finger in the space between top and middle knuckles. There’s a rose with the stem tattooed down the length of each thumb, one for his father and one for his mother. The family crest is woven into an intricate design on his right hand and the names of Rabastan, Rosemary and Bellatrix are woven into the left along with a depiction of a wild wolf for Fenrir. Those he cares for the most. 

For now, the tattoos reach the top of his wrist but will eventually spread to full sleeves on both sides.

@rabxlestrangex @regiisbellatrix @darkxwithin @thehunteternal

[bewarethesirenscallarchived]

Lost In Translation | Fenrielle

Desperate times call for desperate measures. An old cliche that had never been truer for Arielle. After two years in London, hiding in plain sight amongst the halls of glowing spheres she had gotten no further in her search for Alcott. She had no idea if he was still alive, where he may be, what could have been done to him...but she had to find out. She yearned for closure, one way or another... 

Which brought her to the present, to the very alley the Veela had been scoping out. Hidden behind cloaked, fur-lined robes... she waited. It had taken her months to reach this very moment in time.  Months of scouring the halls, tweaking her ears to conversations one passer-by should not be privy too, months of stalking bars and getting on the good side of diplomats and Ministry officials before she was able to piece together enough of a trail. 

It helped that every now and then, bodies would turn up. The kind that only he could leave. Eventually, all paths lead her to here, and still, she waited. Pacing the footpath, hidden by shadows, hoping against hope that her math was right and she’d found the correct location. Fenrir Greyback was a terrifying wolf, and the girl had only ever read about his destruction. 

She was an idiot for being here, for devising such a plan in the first place. She should be turning the man in, not standing here hoping to bump into him for Merlin's sake... but her mind had been made up, the die had been cast.  Bloodshed and potential allegiances aside, he was who she needed. There was no dissolving her resolve however, not anymore. Especially not as the back door to the Hog’s Head was thrown open and a figure far larger than she’d originally anticipated stalked out. She should have been scared, shrunk back against the bricks behind her or ...hell, apparate her ass straight back home but she wasn’t.

Something deep inside told her, this was the right choice. Kicking up her chin, she stepped into the light, directly in his path. “Fenrir Greyback.” It wasn’t a question but a statement, “Arielle Delacour.” The chance of him giving a damn about her name was minimal but this was business, and business required decorum. “I hear you’re the man to know if you want something found...”   

@thehunteternal