| AGE | BLOOD STATUS |
| 31 | Halfblood |
| SHIP STATUS | HEIGHT |
| Complicated | 5 ft. 6 in. |
| POSTS | LIKES |
| 120 | 0 Likes |
| AGE | BLOOD STATUS |
| 23 | Veela |
| SHIP STATUS | HEIGHT |
| Widowed | 5 ft. 9 in. |
| POSTS | LIKES |
| 119 | 0 Likes |
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It was a lovely day, Marceline thought as she strolled through Padmore Park. It was a rare treat to be away from the duties of motherhood, and it was moments like these that she truly appreciated things. The birds were singing, the sun was shining, and everyone was pleasant. She smiled to herself as a cool breeze drifted passed her, causing her cheeks to feel cold for a moment. She smiled at the feeling and walked around, thinking about her new life in Hogsmeade.
Even after nearly eleven months in the town, life here seemed completely new to her. She had not one friend to speak of and spent most of her time reconnecting with her music. It was a shame that even after her husband's death she was still reclusive as she had been forced to be during her short marriage. She shook the thoughts of Paschal from her head and continued with her eye toward the sky, watching birds flutter around as though chasing one another. She decided then that she would not spend the day thinking about the abuse she suffered. She wouldn't remember how it felt being the victim of the Cruciatus Curse. She would not linger on the way it felt to have her body bruised by his fists. Nor would she remember what it felt like to be forced to lay with such a repulsive, angry man. No. Today was a day for relaxation and happiness.
She scanned the park as she strolled along, her eyes landing on a certain man. He looked shady, she told herself, dressed in the best the slums could offer. She noted, with chagrin, as she got closer that he was handsome as well. She supposed those of lesser breeding could be attractive, but she didn't dwell overlong on it. No, she looked forward as she walked ever closer to where he stood, looking for something. She wondered why he didn't just summon it with magic, but it was none of her business she told herself. If he wanted to look around like a muggle then that was his business.
But it seemed that fate had other things in store for Marceline that day. As she got close to the man, he stumbled right into her, causing her to fall back on her bum. She could feel the anger coursing through her, glared at him while he scanned her for something. She had a bad feeling about the roguishly handsome mane before her, but was unable to think further on it when he broke her reverie with words. Taking his hand, she spoke, "Oh, is no problem." Her French accent probably hid that she was lying through her teeth as she got back to her feet, inadvertently getting pulled up closer to him than she had intended. "Excusez-moi." Her voice sounded much more refined in her native tongue, where in English it was somewhat broken at best.
Taking her hand back from him, she straightened out her dress and stood back a bit, sizing him up discreetly. Something was off with this man, but she just couldn't place it.
tag: luÃs words: 520 outfit: here! notes: hope this is okay!
| AGE | BLOOD STATUS |
| 31 | Halfblood |
| SHIP STATUS | HEIGHT |
| Complicated | 5 ft. 6 in. |
| POSTS | LIKES |
| 120 | 0 Likes |
- Her glare hardly fazed him when he knocked her over. Sure, LuÃs assumed anyone would have a right to be in a bit of a huff following such a misfortune; however her glare specifically contained a lot more downright anger than he would have predicted - his eyebrows inched up - perhaps she had an unusually hot temper. Not that this would faze him in the least, besides, for what could a respectable, upper class woman do with her temper except shove it- ahem, stamp it out or hide her infuriation completely?
This made him smirk, the smirk messing up his innocent smoothness ever so slightly. However, he continued on with his little act, helping her up by the hand - and grasping it rather firmly once he saw a ring upon one of her fingers. (OOC: do you mind? I wasn't sure what to make him try and steal - if you want it changed just let me know and I'll edit!) Right, time to put the shrewdness and slyness that he'd encouraged in himself over the years to good use. As he pulled her up, he furtively tried to inch the ring off her finger, wishing that such an object were looser to begin with to make this whole ordeal easier. Still, he managed to keep his eyeline directly on the woman's - admittedly, rather perfectly sculpted and coldly, dismally beautiful - face, trying to hold her attention with his stare rather than his surreptitious struggle for the ring.
Finally, she made to pull her hand away (she was haughtily upright again) and LuÃs realised that was the end of his chance, so hastily withdrew his hand, curling his fingers into a clenched fist, unable to tell or even check without drawing attention to it whether or not the ring was in his grasp or still resolutely retained, out of reach.
He heard her, "Excusez-moi" and raised his eyebrows superciliously. "Oh, ela à francesa..." ("Oh, she's French.") he muttered to himself, under his breath, thinking that slightly amusing. His snort wasn't as muffled as the words, though he suspected it would be more easily understood. Another foreign woman. There had been that irritated Russian the other day (who had been remarkably clumsy all on her own), and now here was, if he assumed correctly, a Frenchwoman. Apparently all the foreigners came over with their fortunes and families and whatnot and found themselves extravagant lodgings over in Wellingtonshire, setting up their lives and lording it over all the regular folk... just because they could. Ah, well. They did have rather more... charisma, more allure, than the stiff, old plain Janes of England, so he wasn't complaining. Not particularly. There were plenty of things he had to complain about, no need to add to the list.
Mind you, it couldn't be said that LuÃs didn't appear slightly out of place either. A vaguely darker colouring, slightly stocky in stature compared to the generally gangly Englishmen, a heavy Portuguese accent that sometimes removed the messy slum accent he'd picked up, and the rest of the time, merely accentuated it.
She stepped back. He sauntered a step towards her. Perhaps he could grab her wand off her too. Perhaps he could just make her feel uncomfortable - she seemed almost grumpy already. His crooked grin twisted onto his face again as he asked, mildly unnervingly, "You wouldn't be out 'ere alone, would ya?" That would be a pity. Sarcasm, dear. Certainly, that would hardly be proper for her. Of course, that wasn't what LuÃs was thinking... though he might offer to accompany her to wherever she was going just to get another chance to thieve her things. And make her feel even more uncomfortable. Because he didn't have anything better to do, as usual.
| AGE | BLOOD STATUS |
| 23 | Veela |
| SHIP STATUS | HEIGHT |
| Widowed | 5 ft. 9 in. |
| POSTS | LIKES |
| 119 | 0 Likes |
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She found it humorous that the man would think that she would not notice the ring being tugged from her finger. He had succeeded in taking the thing û a ring of her mothers, passed down to her. She would not have cared much if it were the ring that had branded her as Paschal's, but as it was, the ring he held in his clenched fist meant something to her and she would not let him get away with it. When she noticed that he wasn't going to excuse himself right away, she quirked a brow and decided to go along with his little game. She quelled the anger that flared up in her when he took her ring and replaced it with a pleasant smile across her soft lips.
She heard him mutter something under his breath in another language and was shocked to find that this man was bilingual. He hardly seemed able to speak proper English, so the fact that he could use two languages was a shock indeed. She wiped the shock away, her face remaining impassive through it all and looked at him, studying his features. He was very attractive, she found, now that she was closer to him. Too bad he was nothing more than a lower class tramp, good looks were wasted completely on him, she thought.
She also noted how he looked smug; he thought himself sly, certainly, for getting her ring. She nearly lost it, almost starting to shoot her fireballs at him. But they were weaker compared to that of a full Veela, and would certainly attract attention so she stifled the anger once more though with more trouble than before. She vowed, however, that before this encounter ended that she would give him a sampling of her wrath. No one would get away with trying to make a fool of her. She was no ordinary upper class woman, one that would smile and let pass a persons transgressions.
No, she was much more stern than that, as was shown by her rigidly straight posture and immaculate state of dress. Not a hair was out of place on her head, and not a speck of make-up strayed from its due place. She was uptight and fierce in her anger, and he would soon know just how different she was from his usually upper class targets. But it would wait. Loathe as she was to admit it, something about the man before her was alluring. Of course, this was not something she would go broadcasting. In fact, she hardly even admitted it to herself and only did so with the most disdain you could think of.
When he sauntered up closer to her once more, her temper flared again. He was toying with her as though she were the usual easily flustered upper class dame. She nearly ended the charade then, feeling the heat in her palms that would inevitably lead to fireballs shooting from them. With her hands behind her back she clenched them into fists and got her anger under control. Giving him a look that was clear of all emotion, she gave him a slight nod.
"Yes, good sir. I am but a simple widow on her way to High Street." She offered, her accent thick and lacing ever syllable. She wondered what his next move would be. Perhaps he'd offer to accompany her to her destination in hopes of being able to steal more off of her. She nearly laughed at the thought of him attempting to steal more from her. Surely she'd notice it, she thought as she looked to him and awaited a response.
tag: luÃs words: 609 outfit: here! notes: the ring thing was definitely fine ^^
| AGE | BLOOD STATUS |
| 31 | Halfblood |
| SHIP STATUS | HEIGHT |
| Complicated | 5 ft. 6 in. |
| POSTS | LIKES |
| 120 | 0 Likes |
- She was still smiling pleasantly, distantly. He took a moment to allow his stare to glaze over, and despite not moving his head, concentrate upon clenching his hand slightly more tightly. Yes, there it was, a burst of cool metal, a defined curved shape, probably an expensive stone set in it. Yes! That'd buy him more firewhiskey than he could drink in a week, he imagined with fervour. Great. It would certainly be an easy item to sell on. And she seemed, for the moment, to be none the wiser.
LuÃs slipped both hands into his pockets briefly, using that as a chance to deposit the ring in his right pocket and behave subtly rudely - what a lack of respect, sticking his hands in his pockets so nonchalantly - to make it clear that this nonchalance wasn't feigned. If anything, nonchalance in this lady's presence was an understatement. Instinctive loathing and disgust covered it better.
She wasn't exactly the usual. She hadn't appeared to even get a little flustered, not by her unexpected fall, not by his unwanted presence, not by the fact that she'd just given away a ring - if she even knew. There was a flicker of doubt that fled fleetingly across LuÃs' mind as he studied her impassive face once again, raking his stare shamelessly over her as if searching for some sign of... irritation? embarrassment? appreciation? Heck, he didn't care what, he would've settled for any feeling whatsoever, but the complete lack of expression on her face startled him.
She was controlled. Too controlled.
Well, he'd have to fix that.
He had suddenly decided, smug as he may already be, that he just couldn't leave this respectable, upperclass, emotionless lady to going on her way without a hitch. Stealing a ring - a rare, tricky trick that was, besides - was not nearly enough, because whether she'd had any inkling or not, he wasn't getting a reaction.
And what fun could he ever have without some sort of reaction?
Her words were as insincere and cold as any. Insipd, bland, he might've said, if not for the heavy accent that gave the uninteresting words an appealing, fluid lilt. "Yes, good sir. I am but a simple widow on her way to High Street."
Good sir... He very nearly snorted aloud, allowing his mouth to purse to prevent the full laughter being let out, but letting his lips fall into a settled smirk again anyhow.
Well... he hadn't been going to the High Street. But perhaps it was an idea. "Ah, what a lovely coincidence." He replied, the dark gleam in his eyes suggesting otherwise though his words, if not his manner or intent, was perfectly civil. "Funnily enough, I am too. Shall we?"
He didn't offer his arm - he was no gentleman, and he was completely sure she would have refused anyway... any woman in the world would have refused - but of course, LuÃs couldn't say he'd ever felt actually inclined to do so in the first place. But that didn't mean he wasn't planning on going with her. They were now deliberately heading the same way; she'd have no way of losing him even if she ignored him. Unless she changed tact and went another way. That would be fleeeing, though. That would be defeat on her part. But of course, LuÃs expected this. That kind of woman just had no determination whatsoever, had no courage or felt no obstinacy to overcome obstacles... such as himself. No, they'd lift up their dresses to reveal their ugly cack ankles as they scampered away in delirious dismay. He was sure it wouldn't cost much patience before this woman did the same, tried to be rid of him in any way possible.
Of course, some other respectable, chivalrous person could always come to her aid. But no, because there was no one around, save a few young children with their nannies... no one that'd save the day.
The damsel in distress would have to fend for herself.
Breaking into a slow, strolling saunter, LuÃs allowed his eyebrows to rise as he, recalling the definition of 'widow', interrogated in a drawl, "An' what happened to your 'usband, pray tell?" It was the most insensitive tone he could muster up to ask it in, hoping that at least would provoke some kind of reaction on her part.
(OOC: so sorry for the wait!)
| AGE | BLOOD STATUS |
| 23 | Veela |
| SHIP STATUS | HEIGHT |
| Widowed | 5 ft. 9 in. |
| POSTS | LIKES |
| 119 | 0 Likes |
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Marceline watched as the man slipped her ring into his pocket. It took all her self-control to keep from burning him then and there. But she would wait. Something about the man was alluring, loathe as she was to admit it, and she wasn't quite ready to end their interaction yet. Plus, it was most amusing to see him think he'd gotten away with stealing off of her and she was intrigued to know what he'd pull next. She was lucky her wand was tucked safely in her bosom, as it would fetch a fair price she was certain, elaborate and strong as it was.
She watched him as he watched her as though in concentration, leaving little doubt that she was the thing he was concentrating on. No doubt trying to find any other sort of valuable item to nix from her. The thought caused her temper to flare and she was glad she wasn't one to wear all her jewelry at once. She had no desire to show off her wealth as so many other women in Hogsmeade seemed to do. Englishmen, she thought with something along the lines of distaste, so flashy they are. She yearned for the more classy people of her homeland but now it held too many bad memories for her to stay.
Steering her thoughts clear of Paschal she looked to the man with a quirked brow, trying to figure him out. He seemed rather lax in the company of a lady such as herself, and she was sure this was a sign of bad breeding. He seemed to have no manners, not even having introduced himself. It seemed as though he were an amateur. You'd think being more mannerly would detract from any thought of you being a thief, but she figured he didn't have much brains underneath his greasy hair. It was a shame that he was obviously of lesser breeding, because his features were quite handsome. Enough so that she was sure any normal woman would be flustered by his presence, but Marceline was not just any normal woman. She was dignified and of high breeding, she knew better than to be flustered over a pretty face.
She nearly scoffed when he said he was heading in the same direction as her. It was obviously a ruse, in her opinion, to get more off of her, but she didn't mind too much. She still needed to get her ring back from him and if he wanted to accompany her to her destination then so be it. She thought for a moment of just getting her ring back and not letting them being seen together tarnish her nonexistent reputation in the town, but something made her decide against it. Temporary insanity, she would plead if asked later, but no one would as her because no one would know of this incident other than the nameless passersby of Hogsmeade.
Noting not for the first time his lack of manners as he didn't offer his arm she rolled her eyes as she looked in the opposite direction. She would not let him see that she was the wiser to any of his motives. No, he would think he had her fooled until the moment he tried to depart when she would get her items back. It would teach him to work on his game if he intended to steal from someone such as herself. He would learn not to be so comfortable in his apparent skill as to defy all manner of proper decorum. That only brought attention to his trickery, in her mind.
He was a fool to think he'd be able to get away with her priceless ring. She would get it back, mark her words. She was snapped out of her reverie when he asked what happened to her husband. She nearly lost her temper. She hated having Paschal called suchà it implied that he still had power over her and she refused to let a dead man have any sort of effect on her. But she kept her temper under lock and key and simply smiled to him, her suddenly rigid stance relaxing ever so slightly so that she looked elegantly dignified rather than simply stiff.
"Widow does imply that my husband died, no?" she quirked her brow just so, her accent strong as ever. "That is all I am obligated to tell a man who has yet to introduce himself, I think." The accent laced every syllable of her words, nearly making her words unintelligible, something she'd have to work on. She gave him a friendly sort of smile and introduced herself, "I am Marceline Chevalier, I believe introductions are in order good sir."
tag: luÃs words: 785 outfit: here! notes: the ring thing was definitely fine ^^
| AGE | BLOOD STATUS |
| 31 | Halfblood |
| SHIP STATUS | HEIGHT |
| Complicated | 5 ft. 6 in. |
| POSTS | LIKES |
| 120 | 0 Likes |
- LuÃs, in the distraction the woman presented, had almost forgotten he'd taken her ring. The weight of the seemingly successful robbery was still present in his pocket to remind him of his achievement - victory, he liked to think - but the worth of the ring seemed to pale in comparison to how good it would feel to see this woman show some real emotion.
Weakness. That was what he meant. This detached disdain didn't make her indestructible. It might be a shield, but there'd be a way around. The cool aura could be punctured, he was sure of it. And there it was, a challenge of sorts, even greater than stealing a material possession; finding that chink in the armour. Discovering that weakness.
And then it could be exploited.
He almost didn't care if she realised he was a thief; he'd rather be a clearly good-for-nothing thief than a stuffy, prim and proper upperclass gentleman or lady anyday. Hypocritical, dimwitted, corrupt, obnoxious fools, the lot of them. All he wanted was their wealth, their means, adopting that same attitude was not his end. Mind you, he'd probably employ someone to seek out and kill his long-lost mother's husband, his sort of cruel not-stepfather, and he'd pay a lot for it, too. But LuÃs' bitter thoughts sank back to earth, souring further at the sight of the woman still nearby.
He'd walk her to the High Street, oh yes. He'd even entertain her and himself by shooting questions her way, such as the one he'd asked about her husband. He'd almost been sincerely interested... illness, perhaps? What riches and all the magical resources in the world wouldn't be able to prevent that? A heart attack? Pshaw, how unfortunate. Maybe the man had gotten caught up in bad business and had a nasty curse shot his way to blow his head off ... he had probably been French, after all. Caught up in these musings with a faraway smirk on his face, LuÃs tried to quell his annoyance at her... elusiveness.
How could she keep deflecting everything? What was wrong with her? His eyes narrowed as she demanded his name, offering her own up in the process. "Well, Madame Marceline Chevalier," Dispassionate sarcasm dripped from his voice, "I would say it's a pleasure to meet ya... The bloodlust for a reaction was almost making his own temper rise, and LuÃs continued under his breath in a more venomous tone, "...but it bloody well ain't."
He gave her a pointed sly smile. As if he'd just go on and give in, give her his name. "Rick, Ricardo... de Silva. " He said with a half-shrug, giving a few of his middle names. It wasn't exactly difficult to lie on the spot; what would she gain from knowing his name, anyway? For most acquaintances round the slums, 'LuÃs' was enough for them, but he wasn't going to be forthcoming with 'Caldeira' in case she later felt inclined to track him down and turn him in for thievery. He'd kept it Portuguese, as he supposed his accent gave him that avenue anyway, just as she was undeniably French, though he was aware there weren't all that many foreigners around in the slums to hide amongst.
"And now that order's over and done with... What are you at liberty to tell me about yerself now, hm? ..." He asked, with a mockingly inquisitve stare. He started walking, expecting her to keep up and keep on coolly, as calm and collected as she wished, because apparently, he couldn't even make her composure crack. Well, he was disappointed in himself. And disappointed in the fact that there seemed to be nothing much else on display he could make a grab for.
By the time they'd reached the gates of the Park and the High Street was in sight, LuÃs' hand snaked back into his pocket, his fingertips lightly brushing the metal. Twisting a smile onto his face again, he muttered, mostly to himself, "...I s'pose I'll be going...", suddenly slowing down. That was it, he'd surrendered. Now, he'd just be off with his small payment in his pocket.
| AGE | BLOOD STATUS |
| 23 | Veela |
| SHIP STATUS | HEIGHT |
| Widowed | 5 ft. 9 in. |
| POSTS | LIKES |
| 119 | 0 Likes |
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Marceline listened to the man as he said something under his breath. She knew what he was saying, that it wasn't a pleasure to meet her and she nearly scoffed. It should be a pleasure that he is able to spend any amount of time in the company of someone such as herself. But she didn't say that, she wouldn't give him the reaction she was sure he was so desperately seeking. He seemed after all to want to get a rise out of her, and while it was working fairly well, she wouldn't let him know that. There was no use in giving the street rat what he was seeking.
She felt her palms itching, just begging to release a fireball and burn the fabric of his clothing, but she wouldn't do it. She wasn't about to show that she was mostly of Veela blood, especially not to someone such as the man that was walking beside her. When he asked what she was at liberty to tell him now she simply smiled and looked at him. She gave a small, lilting sort of chuckle that would make many men weak to their knees, but she was fairly certain he was immune to her charms. He didn't seem to have a taste for real, dignified women after all. In fact she wouldn't be surprised if the only women he saw comprised of brothel whores. He definitely seemed the type to sleep with such low class women.
But she digressed. With her chuckle she continued to look at him, thinking of exactly what she should say. But before she could come up with anything they had reached the gates of the park and he was trying to leave. Her hands burned, and she whipped her hand out quickly and subtly grabbing his wrist, squeezing it roughly, sure that he could feel the heat of her palms. "I would suggest returning my ring first." She said it cooly, trying hard to keep her temper under control, but the warmth continued to flow to her palms and she was sure that if she didn't get herself in control she'd be at risk of burning him.
"Do not think me so simple like these silly English women." She said hastily, her accent becoming thicker. "I knew the moment you took my ring, I was simply letting this little game of charades continue. Now give my back my mother's ring, sir, and we can forget this ever happened, hm?" She quirked a brow at him and gave him a burning look that told that she was not playing his games any longer. She would get her ring back that day, any means necessary.
tag: luÃs words: 449 outfit: here! notes: sorry its short!
| AGE | BLOOD STATUS |
| 31 | Halfblood |
| SHIP STATUS | HEIGHT |
| Complicated | 5 ft. 6 in. |
| POSTS | LIKES |
| 120 | 0 Likes |
- LuÃs had slowed, surrendered, expected to stalk away to his disappointment and her relief. She was inscrutable and beautiful and there just had to be something humanising and hidden beneath that cool, charming laugh that on the surface, told him absolutely nothing about her. There was that rising frustration again, that question of how anyone could maintain such a level of composure - something, having lived round the slums and dim depths of cities in the less savoury and less-restricted lifestyle of the poor and the scum all his life, LuÃs did not often encounter. People were usually so easy to read. Hell, he didn't even like people... so why should he care about this one woman?
So she had no spirit, no fire, no life in her whatsoever. Fine. So be it. He was past caring. He was so focused in mulling over the oddness of a discovery to which he'd felt surprisingly let down to find a moment yet to even celebrate the triumph of the stolen ring.
And even if he had, it would have been premature, too soon. The getting away part wasn't usually the most difficult facet of the scam - wrestling the ring discreetly off the woman's finger usually the most demanding step - but LuÃs had barely gotten a step away from Ms. Chevalier... when she grabbed his wrist.
Her sharp sentence was spitting fire at him in itself, and many a woman - the demure upperclass ones, at least - would have left it at that. It would be all they dared to do, all they felt safe doing in protest if they had discovered the thievery. He had the ring, he had the control. Getting away would be simple unless they found themselves some help, got out their wand or chased him down themselves. And LuÃs was usually up for a challenge, anyway.
But her spoken demand had far less impact upon him compared to her impulsive action. For some irrational reason dredged up from some subconscious part of his mind, he had imagined that her hand would be deathly cold, perhaps weak and fragile. The heat of the contact shocked him, and not just because it was in such stark contrast to his expectations. Her hand, it was hot. Not just clammy or warm, hot. He was almost worried it would rise, become even more blistering, be in danger of burning him.
"I don't know what you're talkin' about." He refuted, almost idly.
His first instinct was to tear his wrist out of her grasp, and though he did jerk it rather forcefully for the first second, she did seem severely adamant about getting the better of him. LuÃs understood; she wanted her ring. She was not such a fool as he'd thought. He'd been caught, he'd failed. LuÃs may have even admitted to being momentarily intimidated... but after a moment of defeat a smirk spread onto his face and his eyes gleamed darkly, doing his best to ignore the heated grip on his wrist. Heated... he'd succeeded in one thing. Taking the ring had done it after all, and he was partially pleased just by the burning anger revealed in her eyes now. Her control was slipping, and the bitterness in LuÃs swelled proudly, spitefully, and the satisfaction grew. Her words might have been civil enough, despite her obvious intolerance of him, but having been alerted to that spark of strength and therefore of weakness in her, LuÃs was by no means ready to give up. In fact, it seemed the fun was just starting.
"And pray tell, Marceline, what will ya do if I don't give it back?" He finally drawled, including her name in case it threw her off some more, himself about about ready to sprint off or even draw his wand if need be, but refusing to show any insecurity. He was calm now, almost elated by the sticky situation he'd thrown himself into. And really, what could she do?
| AGE | BLOOD STATUS |
| 23 | Veela |
| SHIP STATUS | HEIGHT |
| Widowed | 5 ft. 9 in. |
| POSTS | LIKES |
| 119 | 0 Likes |
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Her temper only flared when he played coy. "Don not play coy with me, Mr. Caldeira. I know you have my ring." She said hotly. He went on to ask what she'd do about it and her brow quirked. "Yell that you are assaulting me. That you stole my ring. Who do you think they'll believe? Honestly. You will not get away with my mother's ring." She was deadly serious and she let it show in her tone of voice. If he thought he was sly, he was sorely mistaken. She knew his game from the moment she saw him. She was no fool after all. She had been tricked by a man before û her husband û and she would not be tricked by one once more.
"I have been tricked by men before, Mr. Caldeira. But never again. Return my ring to me and I shall not report you." She held her other hand out expectantly. She didn't know why she expected him to heed her threats. He didn't seem like he would at all. He was toying with her, that much was obvious, and she was allowing it. She felt utterly disgusted with the way things were going, but she would not release her hot grasp on his wrist. If he kept testing her patience she'd be shooting fireballs out of her hand and she did not want people knowing her for the mostly Veela that she was.
Her features were starting to distort û or try to û into something less than human. It was a subtle distortion, one that you couldn't really notice if you didn't know you were looking at a partial Veela. But it was there indeed and she was near the end of her limits. She wanted her ring back and she wanted it then. She would not subject herself to his games any further and she was going to make that perfectly clear. "In a few moments time, fire will come from my palms. Did your mother never teach you not to mess with Veela women?" She seethed to him, quiet so that passersby could not hear her words.
It was a small price to pay, exposing herself to him in order to get her ring back. She was hopeful that her threat would get through to him. That he'd see that she meant business. But he was a foolish, arrogant man she could tell and she knew that there was a chance that he wouldn't care to heed her warning at all. He thought he was in charge of things, she could tell. He thought that he had control of the situation. But the tables could easily turn and she would show him that much. She let a flare of fire erupt from her hand, too quick to burn him. Quirking a brow at him she said, "Give me my ring" through clenched teeth.
tag: luÃs words: 480 outfit: here! notes: sorry its short!
| AGE | BLOOD STATUS |
| 31 | Halfblood |
| SHIP STATUS | HEIGHT |
| Complicated | 5 ft. 6 in. |
| POSTS | LIKES |
| 120 | 0 Likes |
- LuÃs wasn't particularly intimidated or worried by her response. Yes, she'd do exactly what any other women would do; act a victim, helpless, a damsel in distress. None of them could even look after themselves; having every luxury obviously sheltered them far too much. Couldn't she see he couldn't care less if someone caught him trying to do away with her ring? He wasn't afraid of punishment; he was well aware of the order to crime and punishment, he wasn't stupid. He would be slightly disappointed if he didn't get it - pawning it off would give him a full bag of coins, he expected - but even if he didn't, there was still the stand he was taking in stealing in the first place. If people knew about it, then so be it. Good for them. Being recognised as a good-for-nothing thief might make life difficult for him, but why couldn't the rich bastards see that his life wasn't easy in the first place? Thievery being fun was just an added bonus. No, it was an activity that both allowed him to stick it to the upper class and provide for himself, it was his real livelihood. His job at the Cauldron Shop was little better than slave labour, he had no family to support him, the only way his life remained bearable was by gulping down whatever liquor he could afford... how else was he supposed get by except by stealing?
"I'm so sorry to hear it," He replied, his voice melting with sarcasm as she explained that she had been tricked by men before. And she wasn't now, and she was demanding he give the ring back. He stared at her appraisingly, quirking a brow and refusing to show any sign whatsoever of trepidation. At least she seemed to be able to get angry, at least she was more than a soulless zombie. Oh, how she was helping his regard of the upper class... bloody 'ell was she overreacting. He still wouldn't accept he couldn't get away with it. Let her call for help, flounder in panic and anger. He'd laugh as he fled with her ring, never to be seen again, lie low for a while... it would be so easy...
Her warning took him completely aback. He had just been coming to the conclusion that there was something not normal, not right about her, and now he had evidence. "Oh, really?" He muttered at her caution about the fire. What did she mean? "A Veela... hell, she's a veela..." He muttered to himself, dawning realisation, an unwittingly confounded look on his face. That explained her unnaturally perfect beauty, he admitted begrudgingly. And made her... dangerous. He still refused to give her the ring back, Veela or not, warning or not, if only as a matter of pride. She could have her best shot.
The sudden heat flashing past his wrist, though it did not hit him, forcibly made his fingers relax and flex in mere reaction to it. Unfortunately, this meant his grip on the ring loosened, to the point that when he jerked away in shock at the fireball, the ring was about to fall out of his possession. Horror-struck at the thought, a deft flick of his wrist at that moment meant the jewellery was tossed over in a slow arc into the nearest path of grass at the exit of the park, rather than falling right to her feet on the path. If he couldn't get away with the ring, then neither could its rightful owner, LuÃs concluded, almost petutantly. He had a few other tricks up his sleeve, too, despite the fact that he truly was disconcerted by her power, a little of his smugness slipping from his face. "Oh, no." He added, almost calmly, and far too late. "Forgive me, you startled me, you see..." He explained his 'dropping' of the ring, smirking slyly. She might try to Summon it, but most jewellery had anti-summoning protective enchantments, after all, else they could truly be easily stolen... so she would probably have to search for it by hand. He grinned away, unconsciously rubbing his wrist from where she'd had a hold on it.
| AGE | BLOOD STATUS |
| 23 | Veela |
| SHIP STATUS | HEIGHT |
| Widowed | 5 ft. 9 in. |
| POSTS | LIKES |
| 119 | 0 Likes |
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Marceline was not one to gape, but this was an extreme moment and she openly gaped at him. "I cannot believe you." Her accent was thick, making her words nearly impossible to decipher for one who wasn't familiar with the French accent. She didn't care if he knew what she was saying. " Je pourrais vous tuer!" She let go of his wrist and quickly brought her hand up to slap him across the face. The impact made a resounding crack and she made sure to let a fireball loose just as she smacked him, adding heat to the slap. She didn't care if she burned that admittedly pretty face of his; he deserved it for making her lose her mother's ring.
"You will help me find it and you will return it to me. Or so help you I will finish you." Her words were fierce and she grabbed his wrist once more, tightening her grip and adding heat to it again. She didn't want him to think that just because he'd thrown the ring that this was over. This was far from being over. She pulled him towards the grass and whipped out her wand, pushing him with all her might to the ground and pointing the wand straight at his face. "Find it now or I will hex you." Her words were seething as she gave him an expectant look.
She wanted to just hex him anyways and get it over with. But she wasn't about to risk a run in with the law unless absolutely necessary. Should he refuse to find her ring, however, she would in fact hex him til kingdom come. She had no qualms with lying to the law enforcement and claiming self defense. It wasn't too far from the truth as he had in fact attempted to rob her. She was just too smart than to fall for his faux chivalry and sly words. Still quirking her brow at him, she looked and said "Well? I'm waiting" with her heavily accented and lilting voice.
tag: luÃs words: 341 outfit: here! notes: sorry its short!
| AGE | BLOOD STATUS |
| 31 | Halfblood |
| SHIP STATUS | HEIGHT |
| Complicated | 5 ft. 6 in. |
| POSTS | LIKES |
| 120 | 0 Likes |
- LuÃs, for once in his life, was at a loss. He'd never failed so terribly at stealing anything, and he'd never been so blindsided by a woman before. He barely knew what was going on, but the only thing he could conceviably figure out to do was get away - quickly - give up on the theft and just hope she hadn't looked at him closely enough to turn in him and ruin his side-career forever.
Angry words. That was all he heard. He thought she'd lapsed into French, but her delivery was than enough to get the gist. LuÃs would have happily cursed to the sky and back in his own language, but to be honest he was more mad at himself than with he. He watched, a little dumbstruck, as she released his wrist for a split-second. (If she hadn't been a stinkin' Veela with hands that could probably burn right off if she got any angrier, he would have been able to escape a woman's grasp, obviously.) The next thing he felt was a sharp crack across his face. It burst into immediate stinging, and he was unable to take a slap from a woman (not completely unfamiliar to him) coolly because goddamnit, it was burning. From the feel of it, he was actually going to have burn marks. Well, Marceline Chevalier sure was making him think even more kindly of her. Now if he could just get away and never see her again...
But he couldn't even slip away, leaving her in her furious dismay, because he was suddenly on the floor with a threatening wand pointed at him. Well, damn. She had pushed him down - this he had never seen before, some strength (of will) in an upper class character - and here he lay, covered in bruises, likely, on the grass.
Apparently he had orders now. He ran a hand furiously through his hair, gave a vengeful huff and gave in to complying. At this point, he was sure he'd get hexed - or worse - if he didn't and it would likely be best to get out of here making an attempt to be on her vaguely good side - which was impossible after what he'd done, so anything he could do now would just be a minute prod in the right direction - but he still wasn't eager to.
But it was all he could do. Other than getting distracted by her smooth voice that he really ought to hate but couldn't... stupid Veela.
"Fine... fine!" He muttered, giving in and turning over until he was on all fours, a hand combing through the grass. If he pulled out his wand he still wasn't sure he could take her because despite having a useful arsenal of offensive spells, he'd only had a year of schooling. Besides, a duel in the middle of the park would definitely attract unwanted attention and he'd never get away. Maybe if he wrenched her wand out of her hand. Perhaps he could just distract her slightly by continuing a conversation, and then run for it. But an honest question leapt to his lips in a dark grumble. "What d'ya really need with the damn ring anyway?" He bet she had a vast selection of jewellery, her husband was dead, so why this mattered so much to her was beyond him - and anything she said, he'd have to say that the value of ring would have far more meant to him, because at least the money he coud have gotten from it would have tided him over for a good while. And he was looking for it, but he couldn't find it yet. "You know, you'd find it quicker if you were lookin', too..." He added, glancing round but not expecting her to listen. Where the hell had he thrown it?
[so sorry for the wait!]
| AGE | BLOOD STATUS |
| 23 | Veela |
| SHIP STATUS | HEIGHT |
| Widowed | 5 ft. 9 in. |
| POSTS | LIKES |
| 119 | 0 Likes |
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Marceline gave a distinctly pleased grin to herself as he started to comb the ground for her ring. She knew he was probably thinking of all the ways he could escape her wrath, but she was tougher than she looked. She made sure that after Paschal she would never again be bested by a man. She would never again be fooled by the good looks of one either. She was no fool anymore, dreaming of being wed and having a family. She had her daughter and that was all she needed. LuÃs û pretty face or no û was scum and she wouldn't let him get away with the way he'd treated her. It was a shame, she thought, that her slap would probably bruise and burn him. He really was quite handsome after all. It seemed to be the only thing he had going for him.
Her brow quirked when he asked why it was so important and she tried with difficulty not to swoon at his voice. Okay, so maybe he had two things going for him. "Does it matter? It's been in my family for centuries and I wish to pass it to my daughter when she is of age. Now find my ring." She said the last words with weight, wand still pointed in his face. She wouldn't let him make a fool of her. No matter how intoxicating his voice was. No matter how handsome he was. She would not be made a fool ever again by a man of good looks. No, she wouldn't let the good looks of a man blind her from the evil within.
She was just about to throw a hex his way to make him move quicker when she noticed his fist clenched. He must have found the ring. At any rate, she threw a stinging hex at his back and snatched her ring from his hand. "Thank you very much." She said without much gratitude at all. She had no reason to thank him for anything. All he'd done was cause her grief! She threw another stinging hex his way for good measure and watched as his body reacted to it. It was mildly amusing, but she took no great pleasure in hurting others. Even if they had been nothing but bothersome. "And a good day to you, sir." She said with a humph, turning and walking away in great stride.
tag: luÃs words: 401 outfit: here! notes: sorry its short!
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![[Image: marci.png]](http://i1114.photobucket.com/albums/k527/whimsicalmoon/marci.png)
