#threads;; bea & bellatrix 001

[fcrox]

A thick fog, nothing else could have described what was going on and until the other witch had lifted the spell, no clarity was given. And then only shock. Beatrice had not been prepared to snap out of a daze, having moved about on autopilot only to come face to face with someone like Bellatrix Lestrange. The Lestranges in general were on her list of those the brunette wished to avoid. Nothing good could come out of it, of that, she was sure.

Instead of eating as told all she could muster was the strength to hold the spoon; a mix of retaliating stubbornness and shock that seemed to have stripped most of the things she would see herself do from the list of things Beatrice Abbot was capable of. And then those words rung through to her, causing her to snap her head up at the witch. Only then did she notice how hard she’d been staring at the soup in front of her as though she could simply wish it all away if she only tried hard enough. Some may have called her foolish but truthfully it was a simple and pure desperation.

“I’m not with the Order.” It wasn’t a lie. No, there had only been one conversation with Alice about her wish to join. Despite that, thus far the witch hadn’t heard back from the other. Perhaps she would have to ask again. Or there was simply more to be sorted. “I’ve never been with the Order.” Her eyes moved, scanning the other. Would Bellatrix believe the truth when it was laid out right in front of her? At the end of the day Bea had no plans to voice whatever she may have known about the Order. It was easier, though, in times when lying wasn’t necessary simply because the truth itself made it easier.

Finally, as though out of sheer stubbornness did she end up allowing herself a spoon full of soup only to realize that the whole situation had ruined the taste entirely. What was the point anyway. “What do you want, exactly?” The past few minutes may have been foggy, like a layer that had come to rest on her like cotton, but she did remember the words. There’d been mentions of Edgar, someone knew was unlike to come visit.

Through it all her fiery Gryffindor demeanour came through, shining almost too bright for her own good. “I am not with the Order nor am I aware who is with the Order. If information is what you seek, I can’t help you.” Nor would she. - @bellatrix-lestrxnge

It seemed Bellatrix's spell was too strong. How thrilling. Despite her gestures for Beatrice to sit down and join her, she still busied herself with every other thing for her non-existent dinner party. Watching the other witch with a foul smirk, she leaned back in her seat, dragging her palm against the table cloth in a slow movement. Snagging a few threads with her wedding ring, she cared nothing for it and simply considered what to do with Beatrice next. Her plan was already well-formed, designed specifically to suit her urges and the functional requirements of this evening. But that didn't mean she couldn't enjoy a little reckless spontaneity while moving between steps.

"Are you alright?" Falsely cloying, she placed her words heavily and disarmed Beatrice while she was at it. She caught the wand and held it up, studying the gentle magic that pulsed from wood to fingers, while Beatrice fussed over the cake. "It's not like you to be so forgetful. Tea would be lovely. Milk and three sugars, please!"

Sliding the wand into her dress, she sat back and waited patiently - though not that patiently. She did want to move things on, after all. So once Beatrice reappeared, tea in hand and cake placed down, she didn't delay any longer. Forcing Beatrice into a chair with another spell, she then locked her into place, arms flat atop the table as though pinned by heavy chains, her body unable to move from the seat. For a moment, she revelled in the surprise piercing Beatrice's expression even through the Confundus. But it was only a precursor to what would come next; a veiled realisation that would soon be unleashed with horrific fervour. She removed the Confundus, eyes flickering over her plaything's with the look of a vixen in sight of the fattest rabbit she had ever seen.

"Welcome back, Abbott." She smiled, pure wickedness sparking her features like destructive wildfire. It was an expression that betrayed pure joy. She delighted in causing alarm, her pleasure an unholy devastation. "Thank you for the soup." Gesturing, she released one of Beatrice's wrists, having no fear of the freedom - she could reach nothing but a spoon and her bowl. "Eat up. Wouldn't want it to go cold. I did have you set a place for Edgar, but I'm afraid he won't be having soup. I might let him have some cake, though. If he's a very good boy." And with that, she sat back and took a refreshing gulp of her tea, then an indulgent bite of her cake.

"How long have you been in the Order? Answer sensibly. Let's not make this unpleasant." Or more unpleasant. Bellatrix had no intention of leaving without a little indulgence. She deserved it. No one worked harder for the cause than her.

[fcrox]

It was as though she was walking through thick fog, on clouds so heavy that her feet would sink into the soft yet cold material without ever falling through. As though each thought lay behind a layer of something dense; she could see, but not reach through to make sense of things. Beatrice found herself nodding along with the other witch, agreeing to things she could hardly understand simply because her mind seemed to refuse to allow her to do so. The former lion was a mess, all by the hands of magic the other had laid upon her.

Every motion was as though on autopilot, as though done by hands other than her own. But she could see them. Surely these actions were her own. Beatrice could only follow along, sorting the food and setting things out without so much as a second thought given. When the mention came to Edgar, that was the first time she paused even if only in confusion. Edgar, that name was important. So perhaps Bellatrix had a point when mentioning the lack of place setting for the person that she could only recall as important. “Of course. I’m sorry. Must have slipped my mind.” How could Edgar slip her mind so easily?

The shrug in question was internal, busy hands rushing to adjust yet another place setting before the witch returned to the stove to check on things. “I do hope you like it. I’ve put effort into this.” Forgotten was the fact that the dishes in question had only been cooked to try out new recipes and to keep herself busy; to distract from the reality linked to the name the other witch had only just brought up. Bea found herself wondering why it all felt so odd. Why was she this forgetful? Surely there was a reason.

And then she remembered the cake, moving to retrieve it from the storage cupboard where it had been boxed up neatly. While she busied herself with preparing the cake she couldn’t help but wonder if tea was needed. “Would you like some tea with the cake?” The brunette finally turned around to look at the other. “Do you think Edgar does?” Beatrice didn’t want to forget the other yet again. - @bellatrix-lestrxnge

The charm worked like a dream - figuratively and literally. Vaguely, Bellatrix wondered how much true consciousness drifted through Abbott's empty head. She had felt the charm herself - there was no better way to learn a spell than to experience it fully. Her life was full of experience, indulging her senses until they spilled beyond capacity, hyper-acute and trembling with implosive ardour. She had felt every spell in her armoury, except for Avada Kedavra. Every one of them had been cast upon her by a mentor, the most precious of all, by the Dark Lord himself. The suffering he could cause was exquisite. The relief that came afterwards, divine.

She followed, getting a good look at the surroundings and finding them repugnant. How people could live in such tiny quarters, she had no idea. They were like mice in holes, scurrying around with so little purpose to their fault-ridden lives. Her eyes roamed photos, noting the occupants. They hovered shrewdly over objects that looked out of place, their important clearly of some value to Beatrice. It didn't matter what value precisely, merely that she had chosen to display them.

"Mm! It smells delicious, darling, and I never say 'no' to cake." Trailing a finger over the back of a chair, she examined it for dirt then called out. "I simply couldn't refuse your invitation! I would love to join you. But, my dear-" Pulling out the chair, she sat down as though she owned the place, gesturing to the two spaces laid so far. "We're short one place setting. You haven't forgotten about Edgar, have you? He should be with us shortly." One could only hope not too soon. She'd like some alone time with her 'old friend', first. Extending a hand, she leaned forward, patting the table and indicating for Beatrice to sit.

[fcrox]

The cries of a child that late in the evening had brought her to the door, charging in fear of finding a scene and yet forcing herself to slow down in order to open the door quite the opposite way; calm and careful. What a pointless endeavor. No time passed before she found herself on the floor, ready to cry out and yet, there wasn't time for that either. Confundus, another thing Beatrice had not been prepared for. The witch felt a confusion, almost through a daze. Grateful, that was what she felt, no? Her hand reached out, allowing the other witch to pull her up. "Right." Bea was nodding before she even knew why. "I was making some soup. Over in the kitchen."

The witch didn't even notice the charms by the door, only looking at the whole mess in confusion as she moved toward the kitchen and the soup in question. "Are you here for dinner? Did I invite you?" Nothing made sense and yet the former Gryffindor did not dare to question what was going on. Plates were fetched almost on their own, on autopilot the table was set before her feet carried her back to the stove almost on their own accord. "Did you want a plate?" In the back of her mind Bea was having this feeling that something was off, but couldn't put her finger on it. Did it matter? At the end of the day this was a friend, over for dinner and Bea knew how to be a host, if nothing else.

It was almost comical, in a better sense, to know that the witch next to her was Bellatrix. And still, their history - the bad parts, had seemingly been removed from her mind entirely; even if only temporarily. Gone was the memory of fire or the shed, gone the dislike for the other. "I do have some cake in the cupboard. I've only made it yesterday." - @bellatrix-lestrxnge

Starter for: Beatrice Abbott @fcrox When: the night of the Flint/Vanity wedding Where: her flat

Bellatrix did not care for weddings. She cared for blood. So when Farid Shafiq had come to her with details of a plan to bring Edgar Bones to his knees, she'd gone all in, twisting it with her own horrific intentions. There was no love lost between her and Beatrice Abbott. Using the witch as a pawn would be nothing but sweet. She fully intended to paint her little flat red with her filthy blood and the drawn out sound of her screeches.

Appearing soundlessly, she stood as still and as cold as the shadows that obscured her. Her wand hung limp at her side, gripped between slender fingers that would coil and snap a neck as readily as casting any spell. She was a dangerous witch. Impulsive and clever, known for declaring her presence with shameless ferocity. Yet here she was, as silent as a lamb. Bellatrix was not a fool. When required, she could think clearly and precisely, planning with meticulous and excessive detail. Such had been her aim for this evening. She knew precisely what she would do, and it began here - scrutinising the surroundings for signs of defence, while her pulse thundered and rattled her chest with an ever-increasing lust for action.

Spotting only one wizard, she slowly grinned. He would be no challenge, and she was sorely tempted to add him to her night's pleasures. But since she needed a way to summon Edgar from the wedding, he could consider himself fortunate - she would let him go. Affixing her mask, she stroke forward, debilitating the man with absurd facility. A quick hex caused him to stumble, another drawing him rapidly into the air like the puppet that he was. And then she cast her first Imperius of the night, compelling him to locate Edgar at that ghastly wedding and bring him here with news of Beatrice's danger. Off he went, scurrying like a rat and disapparating in the rain.

Now the fun could begin.

With no further need for her mask, she tucked it away and shook the witch's door, calling out as though she were a child in need of help. Blasting it in was always an option, of course. But why remove the fun? She should have been an actress.

The door opened cautiously and predictably. She kicked it forward, a hex pinning Beatrice to the ground as she bent over her and revelled in the fear that gripped her features.

"You should be more careful, my sweet." Another moment passed, her exhalations surging wildly as she looked upon her prey like a snake about to feast. Placing her wand beneath Beatrice's chin, she saw her terror increase and laughed as though it were the greatest joke she'd seen all year. But it wasn't Bellatrix's open pleasure that she should have feared. It was her silent focus, which now calmed her laughter and sharpened her expression. She cast the Confundus, making Beatrice believe she was an old friend. Then she extended a hand to help her to her feet. "Clumsy you! Falling over your own feet." Reaching behind, she slammed the door shut and cursed it locked. "Is that dinner I smell?"