Enticing the Enemy }-- (Silisia)

[GWYNDAR ANACELLO]

T H E Y W I L L N O T F O R C E U S

[/size]
and they will stop degrading us
T H E Y W I L L N O T C O N T R O L U S
and we will be victorious[/center]

What was once the bustling and cheerful Shopping Central of Diagon Alley stood remorseful, the very buildings themselves showing the utter depravity of their situation. Owners no longer able - or brave enough - to run businesses meant that, for all its splendorous history it now resembled its darker, more sinister neighbor. Knockturn Alley, still with its reputation for servicing the dark arts and giving access to the more unsavory characters the patrons that dare shop there flitted between buildings, none wishing to be caught doing the dirty deeds that lay there, or some wishing to simply get out sooner rather than later. It was not a pleasant area. For all his hype and Death Eater bravado, not even Gwyndar would shop in such a dark place. He wanted the muggles culled, he did not however, wish to know where Borgin & Burkes managed to procure Virgins Blood by what seemed to be the Litre.

No, he as a respectable - at one point - pureblood wizard knew the shops in Diagon Alley held more promise. Their once booming businesses also held the hearts of the wizarding public of Britain. If he could find some sort of familiarity within the alleys, the twists and turns or darkened closes, dead ends ... exists ... then he would be a happy wizard indeed.

Or at least as happy as he would allow himself to be.

So soon after the demise of his beloved Cara, Gwyndar found it difficult to do the barest of tasks. The house elves seeing to almost all duties that he once insisted he keep up with around his home while his wife lived. Not that anyone knew of this however. not even the Dark Lord himself knew of his past. No. He never publicly married, he simply took himself off the register to be wed and stopped attending balls where the object was to end his bachelorhood. He need not apply such niceties to his pureblood life now. No, his younger sibling could take the responsibility of continuing on the family name. Gwyndar had been given his chance, and though selfishness and muggle treachery he was forced to reconcile with the fact that his Cara was gone.

With a haughty expression about him, he sauntered in heavy thudding steps down the cobbled street. The few businesses remaining open holding something to be desired. He felt a sense of pride. Those muggle-loving fools. Oh how he wished to break them. To hurt them. Cause them pain. All in the name of revenge.

His clothes however, showed no indication of his particular pureblood upbringing. He was still in his dressing from Dragon Training the few hours previously. There were a few new scars to add to his list, but what took away the attention from them was the large tattoo marked onto his arm. The dark mark, a so called 'gift' from a power hungry fool who believed himself better than all. Gwyndar thought nothing of pureblood society, only that he wanted the muggles to pay for the death of his Beloved. All his thoughts somehow ended on his Beloved. His Cara. Even as he stepped down in front of an old closed down ship he felt the familiar ache in his chest at the thought of his bright and wonderful wife. His dead wife.

He could not even recall there being a time he did not feel such a pain. It was a constant that began not moments after the news sunk in. She would not come home. She would not show her face. She was, in all aspects. Dead.

Punching the old stone wall with a growl, Gwyndar looked at his reflection in one of the remaining glass panes of a shop called 'Terrortours' he noticed movement behind him. Ever ready, he felt for his wand in his side pocket. One was never without his wand these days. Not if one wanted to live.

- - -

Status:: Done
Muse:: Anberlin and lots of staring into space ...
Tags:: Silisia for now
Words:: 655

[SILISIA ANJA DE'ATH]

Even a recluse like Silisia needed to go to Gringotts. Since she was a pureblood, she held no risk of being captured by the ministry and being put on trail. The only reason she feared going out into such exposed places was that she did not know if her family would be there. The crack of her apparating into an alleyway was dismissed by most muggles as a car backfiring. Luckily, the dear creatures seemed to try deliberately ignoring any magic around them. They walked past magic with blinkers on. She quickly slipped into the pub that most eyes saw past. The place was very quiet with a few witches and wizards huddled in corners. Nervous eyes darted up, assessing her entrance. She could not blame their fear. Although The Dark Lord had not made his appearance into this world, his followers were ever lurking. She smiled apprehensively at the bar keeper, Tom, who smiled back equally warily.

A quick tap of her wand on the correct brick opened up the once dazzling view to sight. She cringed every time saw the forlorn street. Many of the places had shut down because of having none pureblood owners. Other places had been left abandoned in fear. She knew a few of the owners were in the refugee camp nearby. Sil tried to stay out there as much as possibly so that she would not have information if Death Eaters caught her, desiring information. Defensively, she folded her arms across her chest. Her golden locks tumbled across her face as she dipped it from view. She took steady, forceful steps towards the bank and the few people who occupied the once popular alley stayed out of her way. It was difficult coming to a place that was once filled with happy memories.

This place had marked her journey into freedom. It had been a breath of relief from a place that was filled with poison. Now it had seemed her father’s ideals had poisoned even the happiest of places. First Diagon Alley and then Hogwarts had burnt in the hatred that poured from the souls’ of death eaters. She brushed a stray piece of hair from her face, quickly glancing down Knockturn Alley. It would seem business was still booming. People moved about without any shame for the darkness had won. Silisia shuddered and picked up her pace. She could see the tall white building in the distance. Her heart fluttered wildly in the exertion. Nerves and the speed she was walking caused a slight shortness of breath.

She carefully allowed her eyes to dart nervously around the alley. It would be foolish to relax in such an open area. Her glance lingered on a man who had just punched a wall. It was the mark on his arm that caused her feet to falter. The symbol of the Dark Lord and his forces shone without shame from the man’s arm. Her feet stopped as terror welled in her bosom. She pulled her cloak around her body tighter and glanced up at Gringotts. She would just walk right past, and he would not notice, right? She started off again, at a faster pace. The alley narrowed slightly, so she would have to pass much closer to him than she would have liked.

She glanced at him just as she passed him and to her horror, caught his eyes in the reflection of the window. She could not help but to hesitate, but she quickly dropped her head and attempted to move as fast as she could past him.

[GWYNDAR ANACELLO]

T H E Y W I L L N O T F O R C E U S

[/size]
and they will stop degrading us
T H E Y W I L L N O T C O N T R O L U S
and we will be victorious[/center]

Anger could be beautiful. It was an emotion of passion, of instinct and simply raw need for redemption. But Anger could destroy everything about a person. Every thought and every moment, poisoned with the venom of hate. Enraged with the hurt that followed, distraught and inevitably, broken in ways that were never truly expressed. With Gwyndar he remembered daily the ways in which his beautiful wife would scold him for asking for her well being, scold him for worrying and making his face thick with frown lines. And, at the time he had believed her. If only she had known. If only he had known. It was his duty as her husband to protect her, his marriage bound right to keep her safe and his job to make sure she never came to any harm.

She was a beautiful woman was his wife. To him, she had never truly left. He had never been given any real proof. Only been given the information that she had perished in the explosion. Showing that, for all his strength, all his power ... he was useless at keeping the one person put on this earth to love him, from harm. And he paid for that mistake daily.

Every morning he awoke to a cold bed, his hand wandering to where he know instinctively she should have lay. All night he would toss, never treading too close to her side. knowing he could crush her if he was not careful, only to be woken to the harsh reality that he would not, and would never again crush her under his weight. Never again would he feel the softness of her skin, the tender caress of her hand against his cheek. Never feel her daintily little body wrap around his when he came home after months of being away. She was gone, but he could not seem to accept that she would never come back. He had loved her so much ...

Even now, as he looked into the reflection of a shop window he swore to merlin that he could see her. Walking by, her expression shocked her footsteps against the cobbles showing her increased speed. Her ...-

Footsteps!?

Turning around, Gwyndar almost growled at the sight that greeted him. The retreating woman, head low ... she was just as he had remembered her. The gentle swing of her hips as she walked, the determined click as she stepped, her hair; so flaxen soft. She was not gone, no ... it couldn't be...

"Cara?" He whispered, his Italian accent thick in his own mother tongue as he raced after the young woman. His own pounding steps meeting her own without trouble and managing to turn her around as he gripped her shoulder. His hand dwarfing her smaller frame, years of extensive training of Dragons had done wondrous things to the once average man. He grew larger than anyone believed possible. His voice was thick with worry as he spun the woman around, meeting the face of the woman he thought once long gone from his life. "Cara! Cara mia bella! Sei vivo, di quanto tempo ho voluto vedere di nuovo!"^*1 He grouched, his voice low and growling. Almost a rumble of a dragon himself.

"Non avete idea di come sono stato preoccupato! Come hai potuto lasciarmi così?! Quando arrivo a casa vi verrà sezionata per la vela della proprietà per almeno un mese!"^*2

- - -

^*1 "Cara! My beautiful Cara! You're alive, how long I have wished to see you again!"

^*2 "You have no idea how worried i was! How could you leave me like this?! When I get home you will be sectioned to your wing of the property for at least a month!"

Status:: Done
Muse:: Voices - Rev Theory
Tags:: Silisia for now
Words:: 565

[SILISIA ANJA DE'ATH]

Keeping her eyes on the white building, she desperately tried to pass unseen. It would make her day if the day could pass without any drama or misdeeds. Her luck seemed to be quickly running out, slipping through the thick hourglass of life. However, she quickly realised that her day had only begun and it was going to be a trying one. A strange name slipped from the Death Eater’s lips, which was quickly followed by his heavily falling footsteps. Her footsteps quickened, and instinctively, she pulled out her wand. Fear quickly engulfed her senses, and she became extremely alert. Rapid breaths danced across her breast. Yet, even in her quickened state, she found heavy hands grasping her shoulders and pulling her around to face him. Her hand grasped her wand tighter.

His voice rolled in a foreign tongue, echoing some sort of concern. Silisia’s eyes grew wide and fearful as she regarded the very imposing man. She quickly tried to pull away, her eyes glancing down to the large mark upon his arm. It was the mark that often marked the death of so many people. Yet, it would have been strange if this death eater killed her here. She barely listened to his rant, desperate to get away. It would have made little difference if she had indeed listened. He must have mistaken her for someone else – mistaken her for this Cara. She could not understand why now, with her clearly in view, he did not see that she was not the woman he so looked for.

“I’m sorry,” she said clearly and confidently, her voice echoing the clearly British accent, tipped with the clarity of English that came from living in Africa for awhile. “I think you are mistaken.”
She smiled as politely as she could, attempting to step back out of the man’s forceful grip. There was obviously no point struggling against the man, so she stopped moving. Her clear blue eyes latched onto his with a determined look. This did not have to be a dire situation if she attempted to remain calm. Perhaps the man was utterly deluded. She knew that death eaters tended to be a bit crazed, so perhaps he was afflicted with some curse of the mind. Perhaps he had purchased himself some herbs which had some effects on the mind and he was seeing things that were not there. All she had to do was convince him that she, in fact, looked nothing like the Cara he mentioned and he would let her go.

She took a deep breath, trying to get her panic to go away. With the breath, she felt the tension in her neck start to release.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered softly, trying to empathise with the man. Perhaps this Cara was someone truly important to him and he had lost her. Her gaze softened, losing some of the frightened doe look.
“Please, let me go,” she tried gently, placing a hand on where his had latched onto her shoulder.

[GWYNDAR ANACELLO]

T H E Y W I L L N O T F O R C E U S

[/size]
and they will stop degrading us
T H E Y W I L L N O T C O N T R O L U S
and we will be victorious[/center]

Drawing his eyebrows together to make a heavy line, Gwyndar contemplated the thought that his thought to be dead wife was acting rather oddly. Had she been cursed!? He would murder with brute force whoever lay hand upon what was his. Modern though he may he, Gwyndar was from a long line of purebloods with traditions spanning back milenia. There were moments when he understood why his ancestors were sos trict on their wives and daughters. Their behaviour was erratic and impulsive. He simply could never keep up with modern women. He did not expect them to simply sit back and take orders from their husbands, though he would prefer if they did. He simply wished they would be more accepting of what their husbands -who as pureblood men of high standing- would know exactly what was the right thing to do. They would never endanger the life of their wives if they had made a good marriage, and Gwyndar was someone whose marriage was made mainly from love. He would look after his wife. She knew that. He had not continued working despite his familital fortunes simply to see her endangered the second his back was turned!

however, as soon as she opened her mouth, Gwydars eyes widened in panic. That was not the voice he knew. Not the voice he had heared each night as they lay together discussing their future. No, she was his cara.... but someone must have tampered with her! His cara detested the english language! "Cara! Che cosa stai parlando. Qualcuno ha danneggiato te? Avrò la testa per danneggiare il mio amore."^*1 He said. His voice thick first with worry, while gradualling rolling into a growl as he contemplated the very idea of someone laying a hand against his beautiful and wonderful Cara. How dare they! He would duel to the death for his little woman. And no muggle or wizard on this or any earth would stop him reclaiming what was lawfully his. "Si tornerà con me questa seconda. Lei mi dirà dove sei stato tutto questo tempo."^*2 He grumbled, not releasing the hand atop the tiny womans shoulder. Despite her protests.

"If you insist on speaking this vile tongue then so be it. But i will not have you traipsing around britain-" He spat. "without me. I have gone without you too long. Wife." His eyes hardened at his own words. He had grown more angered after she left him. Hardened by the thought that she had been killed.

- - -

^*1 "Cara! What are you talking about. Someone has hurt you? I'll have their head my love"

^*2"You will return with me this second. You will tell me where you have been all this time."

Status:: done!!!!
Muse:: Various
Tags:: Silisia for now
Words:: 417

[SILISIA ANJA DE'ATH]

The man in front of Silisia seemed to be crazed, lost in a delusion that would end up being harmful to both of them. She doubted, however, that the man had much more to lose. After all, he was a slave to the Dark Lord. Dignity, independence, choice were probably no longer his. However, she would have nothing to do with this man. His humanity may have been stolen, but she refused to let hers vanish into the midst of madness. A small growl curled onto her lips as she pulled away as he regarded her. Annoyance flared, bristling with the ever present anxiety of the time.

His foreign words only increased her anxiety and her politeness slipped away behind her fear. This was hardly the place she wanted an encounter with a delusional death eater. The normal kind was bad enough. She gently tried to lift his hand, prying one finger off at a time. She did not want to cause too much commotion as the last thing she wanted was for more death eaters to arrive at the scene. Of course, they could hardly resist a bloodbath.
“I do not speak that language,” she said coarsely trying to pull away again. She knew the struggle was useless, but if she managed to slip out in a moment of weakness she would be able to get away. Although her voice sounded calm enough, there was a slight tremor behind it.

Finally words that she could understand left his lips. A small sigh of relief touched her mind. At least she could attempt to reason with the man in her own language. However, his aggression took her by surprise.
“Wife?” she gasped. Oh dear, this could not be happening. The last thing she needed was a mad man claiming her to be his wife.
“My name is Silisia De’Ath, twenty five years old, born in Africa then moved to Oxford. I do not know who you are, but I am certainly not your wife,” she pleaded, hoping he would see that she told the truth. “I have never married nor will I.”

Her mind danced to Connor. She should have brought him with her. However, she had been so annoyed with him that she had left as quickly as she could. Regrets were the bitter taste in her mouth now. Hopefully, Nalean and him would look after the house and the horses best they could if this ordeal went messy.
“Please, let me go,” she said softly, letting her hand drop from his. It seemed futile to keep fighting him with physical strength.