The Dragon's Den (Pantera)

[Pantera Tsua]

It didn’t seem to matter that the wound had been healed, the side of his face still throbbed painfully, as if the man had managed to skilfully damage more then it looked. Not that an instantaneous poppy red bruise hadn’t been quite worrying in itself. Pantera was just lucky the man hadn’t used his other hand, the large collection of rings would have made even more of an impact and the male felt it was easy to say his head might probably have come off entirely. He could barely feel Cindra’s touch above the harsh sensation and his stark silver hues flickered to her fixedly, still baring the remnants of a scowl and ill-intent in the changed colour. A small ferine pupil locked into hers like he might pull his head from her hold and devour her completely with such merciless severity that it took a moment to sooth.

And he didn’t even manage that very well.

”He doesn’t ‘see’ many people, so I doubt he’d know who you were, even if he had seen you. He only remembers people who are necessary.” Pantera spoke matter-of-factly, his voice charged with a chilling bitterness as he kept his gaze fixed on her. As if perhaps everything surrounding would only succeed in making him angrier, he was doing them all a favour, honestly. “ He’ll find out anyway, I’d imagine he’ll not forget you now – so the next time he sees you, especially anywhere near Master Rourke, he’ll be sure to torment you with the information.” Pantera didn’t seem particularly bothered by the man finding out and tipped his head slightly, course having a father like Dante Tsua put quite a damper on the usual forms of parental severity, so maybe he just wasn’t thinking it through.

A glimmer charged ferally through his hues as they turned from her to accommodate the whisperings of his name he could here amongst the masses. Annoying creatures, wedged so far up Dante’s ass that it would take surgery to separate them. There was a chance this incident would go down badly amongst certain deals and Pantera closed his eyes, running the pads of his fingers over his brow in irritation, closing his dark eyes in a manner that only seemed to make him look more feline. It wasn’t only that now, either, from what Dante had said, it seemed Pantera was going to have to play a more obvious role in tonight’s ‘games’.

His pupils returned in time to see a grin move across Cindra’s lips but he didn’t relax much, that foul woman’s words still lingering in his head. He had to bite down in his tongue relatively hard to stop from turning round to massacre everyone in the entire room, leaving that woman to the last so he could have a little fun with her. “Not working, I try to stay away from that misconception, in his case.” He half scoffed closing his eyes before he tipped his head looking severely agitated for a short moment. “Do you have any more of those cigarettes, I think I might’ve swallowed mine when he hit me.”

Making light of the situation, despite the lack of feeling in it, Pantera tipped his head to the ground, wondering mildly where the butt had actually gone. If he was lucky there’d be a big fire and he could just go crazy with the killing curse, forging the political repercussions of such an action. Oh, Pantera least of all feared the Ministry, no matter who controlled it behind who; it was still a sham. “It’s more like black mail then anything.” Pantera informed his delectable partner casually, easing his black lips from their taught line to a light smirk, not that the conversation was getting lighter. “There’s only one thing worth this sort of… shit, and that is my dear Mother.” That smile on his face grew into a smirk at his own dubbence for her and he tipped his head, opening his eyes enough for there to be an eerie slither of silver and a semicircular pupil in view as he gazed, easing himself down to a low boil – by appearances at least.

”My fathers infatuated with her, always has been, but she was always frail and couldn’t do much. You can disregard everything that hideous tengu said about her, it was all Dante’s fault. But anyway, she’s a strange creature, to say the very least; a mystic, mistress of divination and magics connected to the ‘other verse’. Dante keeps her like some pet and won’t budge an inch when it comes to that woman’s want to get rid of her. It’s good I suppose, but it makes things difficult for me.” A sigh tangled in with the last part and Pantera lifted one of his slender hands to the back of his neck, smoothing his pads across the strain that hit had put on his less then tolerable build. “ I’ve only ever seen her a couple of times, but there’s something about her…” He chuckles slightly and offers one of the more usual darkly amused smiles. “ Something that make’s me feel more like a goddamned kitten then a panther whenever I see her.”

“Pantera!”

The male raised a brow at the unusual urgency in the Werewolf’s voice and unlike usual he didn’t hesitate or blush stupidly before taking the young male’s jaw in his hands, turning his head searchingly before pausing. Then he blushed and flinched his hands away, much to Pantera’s feline amusement. “ I told you not to aggravate him!” The male chided timidly, looking down, fidgeting with his fingers before looking Cindra’s way with a thankful nod and a small quick smile. “Especially not with Mistress Medurva… he’s hardly tolerable when that woman is nipping at his heels.”

”It amuses me that you think he can be tolerable anyway.” Pantera quipped, quirking a brow at the man, who tipped his head to yield the point before Pantera flinched slightly and stepped forward and began rummaging through the Werewolf’s pockets, much to the blonde male’s distress, who yelped in alarm when Pantera stuck his hand into his pocket and then frisked his chest, grinning primally as he pulled out a pack of muggle cigarettes.

”You… Pantera, not yet!”

”I can smoke and play at the same time. Calm down…” Pantera muttered, watching the male look a little more frustrated before the dark creature doubled over in chuckles, fondling the packet in his hands, before he got irritated with it and decidedly dug a long nail into the lid, prying it open before he put one of the white cylinders in his mouth, nearly drooling at the taste already as he lifted his matching muggle lighter, took in a long breath and then exhaled.
”You’d better go get the piano, Tan.”
”Is that what he asked for?”
”Well, he said ‘Entertain’… I imagine so. Che.”


Pantera tipped his head toward Cindra, as Torsson moved off quickly, and grimaced lightly. “Some pet project when I was a kid was to teach me to play the Violin. Course, it’s not your generic violin – was made by a peculiar mad, deranged monk, actually, but people get a kick out of hearing it. Especially these sorts, they can’t quite get enough of dark artefacts.” The male held out his arm for her again, dragging his eyes across her form as he prepared to lead her to the appropriate place.

”Loosing Mistress Tsua isn’t that bad, we can just ask my mother about that stuff later. She's well informed, even without her strange magics.”

[Cindra Rourke]

It was a short lived relief, to hear that Pantera’s father likely didn’t know who she was, his clarifying that it was only a matter of time and that Master Tsua would use this little encounter as fuel later didn’t sit with Cindra well at all. If anything they suspected was true, she would be necessary indeed, and avoiding an eventual meeting of the two fathers with them present would be impossible. Heaven help her when they did. If Luan Rourke immediately excused them after the revelation of this incident and led her towards his study, there would be hell to pay and he’d extract it from her in one way or another. Cindra always had a feeling she was in his good graces on borrowed time and it was beginning to wear thin, if recent developments were any indication. “Then I hope that doesn’t happen for a long time. But who knows…” Unlike her, Pantera didn’t seem the least bit phased by it.

Keeping up appearances was a necessary part of the game and she wouldn’t blame him for having done so without letting her in on it. Cindra grinned at his question and lightly chuckled as he scanned the floor, most likely in search of the butt he had moments ago. ”Unfortunately I can fit but a few in this… my chest may be ample, but not enough to conceal a full pack without attracting attention.” As she spoke, she noted the smoldering butt on the floor just behind him, towards the side his face had snapped under his father’s hand, the bottom hem of a rich curtain far too close to it for safety’s sake. Stepping across in front of him, she laid a well-placed foot over it and ensured it went out with a delicate twist of her ankle. “Perhaps it would be best to wait until later, you might want something more intoxicating by then anyways.”

It was apparent that his mother was important to him; it was visible in his smile and his eyes. Whether it was the sort of emotion she associated with her own long passed mother Cindra couldn’t be sure. Pantera was a passionate creature, as wild as the panther hidden precariously under that delicious suit, but he didn’t seem the sort to ‘love’ as she would. A grin spread on her lips. “They have an uncanny knack of doing that,” she remarked. “It’s almost as if the simple fact they bore you empowers them with the ability to see into us in a way that disarms us.” A far off look past her eyes as she thought of her own. “My mother use to be able to get me to agree to anything.”

Cindra had to hide her amused grin behind a hand as Torsson returned, inspecting Pantera much like a lover and knowing it to be close to the truth, she had to bite back the chuckle that wanted to escape her. His blush only made it worse and she couldn’t keep it entirely silent, a small airy guffaw making its way passed her lips and hand. For someone her age, he sure came off as a bit childish still, and while his fidgeting did little to prove the point wrong, he did cast her a thankful nod and smile for her deed and she warmly smiled back. He wasn’t going to be left in that condition with her by his side, at much she would ensure.

The sight of Pantera frisking the poor fellow, most likely for cigarettes if his temperament was any indication, left her chuckling freely and casting Torsson a humored look. At least he hadn’t used his nails…

Her head tipped towards his in return. “The violin?” A small grin. “Somehow I don’t find that at all surprising.” She had studied piano when she was younger, while her mother was alive, and while Cindra probably could remember a good deal of it, she had no desire to sit at the bench of one anytime soon. It had always been her mother’s passion and she had humored her with it. Cindra far preferred listening to music than trying to play it. Taking his outstretched arm, she wrapped hers around it and smiled, expecting him to lead her into the next, perhaps more precarious, part of the evening.

Her smile curled into a light grin. “So I get to meet her as well?” Shaking her head she waved off a wineglass. “I can’t say being with you isn’t uneventful.”

[Pantera Tsua]

Pantera didn’t particularly care who found out what, he was hardly moral enough to be ashamed and quite frankly was often appalled at how squeamish everyone was about that sort of carnal desire. He imagined not everyone was loose enough for it and had lost what primal connected they used to have in the early beginnings – depressing though the thought was, the young wizard quite liked the idea of being the sole enforcer of such a delicious and attractive notion. In the end, the male thought very little of everything that didn’t interest him, or didn’t benefit him, so the reaction of these people below his silent par weren’t worth the worry. Pantera had taken worse and even if he hadn’t there was always room for that much more; it would be interesting to see his limit, in fact. Going by those thoughts it seemed there was a good side to generally everything and Pantera resisted the urge to laugh blithely at his female’s worry toward the situation.

”More intoxicating?”

No, Pantera wasn’t a ‘lover’ of any sort, it was hard to say if he was capable in fact, being as fickle as the male version of his animal counterparts in said area. He was a possessor; owned things like Torsson that intrigued and enticed him at every turn, but there was always a chance he’d get tired of it, but all it took with his (Possibly unfortunate lover) was a day of irritation toward him and Pantera would be right back on track. Once again preying after the usual blushes and noises he could entice from the timid thing just by giving the Werewolf fixed attention. Saying that though, the Animagus wasn’t entirely sure what it was when it came to his mother, he far from possessed her and though that irked him to some degree, he forgot about that sort of selfish thought whenever he was graced with her presence.

She was an eerie thing at best, but Pantera could never find fault with her – as if she were some sort of god he believed did certain stupid things for some reason he as a mortal wasn’t able to fathom. Sharp silver eyes rolled toward Cindra as she spoke fondly of her own mother an odd grin on her face and a drawn away look in her eyes as she feminised her own point. No… Pantera wasn’t capable of a fondness of that sort and for the first time he could tell just by watching that look on the female’s face. The male hadn’t pulled an expression of that sort before and he supposed his face just didn’t mould into that sort of shape; some people were like that.

”Oh? Do I look like a violin kind of guy?”

Pantera almost scoffed, sure he liked the haunting sound the instrument could make under the attention of his blackened finger tips and resisted the urge to close his eyes out of acceptance toward her judgement. Most prestigious families employed this sort of random skill into their children; it was a showcase of talent – that their child could do many things and most parents of such obsessed over the perfection. For Pantera, it was just another badge amongst many, but Torsson had once told him – much by accident – that he thought it was sad that Pantera didn’t enjoy it. He said it made the music lose something that tainted it over-all. At the time Pantera hadn’t said anything, he’d always thought there was something different about the way the Werewolf played piano, but he’d only been able to put his finger on it after that comment passed his counterparts lips.

Torsson liked music as a hobby. His family were a volatile bunch and tried their hardest to wean him off their primal ways, but Torsson was adamant that his place was within society, no matter how brutally it rejected him and his birthright.
Pantera smiled, letting the end of his cigarette hover in front of his black lips, leaning part of his palm on his smooth face.

What a sap.

Continuing to lead the female toward the large dark doors of another room, Pantera smirked slightly opening a single dark visionary, allowing the predominant silver to analyse the smile on her face. Placing the cigarette between his lips, he snatched a slender glass from the passing waiter, tipping his head back to down it all in one go, skilfully lifting the cigarette away with a finger of the same hand curled round the glass, placing it back once the thing was quickly emptied. “You haven’t seen anything yet.” He half scoffed, just wait ‘till she saw his house, and even this night was tame compared to his dealings. Seriously, tonight and the time he spent at school were like a damned vacation in comparison, Pantera was just lucky he took it in his stride.

Tancred had left the doors open for them as Pantera led her in, this room was considerably darker then the other and carried with it a faint scent of innocence. A couple of long seats were covered with fantastic detailed pillows, sewn with silk gold twinned with red as trimmings of dark oak made the chair itself, cut with wave-like curves that spilled from the roll at either side of its half-height back board. Shifting paintings were settled across the dark walls, most rimmed with an intricate gold frame either dulled with age or just fantastically modest compared to the continuation of curious dog-like sentinel statues sitting at strange places against the walls. The were wolf wheeled a black glossy piano with ivory keys up to a large spacious section of floor that was tile instead of dark carpet, pushing it all the way back close to a pale bit of wall that looked like a screen of some sort.

After a moment, withdrawing to another room, Pantera’s eyes followed the Werewolf as he returned, looking warily at the dishevelled violin case he held, holding it out to Pantera as if he were presenting it as a gift and the young Asian male smirked slightly at the expression on the other male’s face. Something twisted between sickness and worry as Pantera flicked open the rusted locks and shuddered at the abhorred taste that filled the air upon the Violin’s release. The thing was made of bone, darkly coloured for something that had been bleached so and the cracks along its cut and shape drew a sick grin from him. Blood tainted the air around it and it exuded something strange and dangerous right up until the point Pantera reached out, curling a hand round its lengthily hold, minding the razor strings. Curiously…the violin didn’t seem to bare a bow and the male’s eyes flickered to Cindra with a Cheshire grin as he pulled it free and Torsson slowly closed the case, setting it down against the leg of a circular table close by, before returning – looking somewhat uncomfortable.

” This is supposed to be the devil’s violin, the last relic of Midian… or so they say. The devil had a monk of the highest calibre cut the bones from his high-priest and various other men of God. It was a testament to the ‘Northern Star’s infinite power – that he could corrupt anything on earth, even the righteous and faithful.”

[Cindra Rourke]

A slender brow rose as Pantera slipped the cigarette from his lips and drained his newly acquired wine in one tip of the head. It was still in place when the cigarette was replaced and the empty glass deposited. A couple of hours in and he was already draining a glass in a single go? In a way it didn’t sit well with her. Not because she worried about his actual drinking, but because his temperament was a damn good indicator of how well she would feel in turn. Course, it went two ways, often what he found amusing was far from it to her, and if it unsettled him, she was sure to feel likewise. Either way, Cindra figured the evening was still just building to a climax, their later date not included, and already she had experienced enough to tell her that life mixed up with Pantera would certainly make the one she’d lead so far pale in comparison. What was yet to be confirmed was exactly how their lives were to be entangled in the future.

Refusing to dwell on it, for really there would be little for her to do for it anyways, she concentrated on walking beside him. He seemed unphased by it and should he find a way to turn it to their advantage she knew she’d go along with it wholeheartedly, Cindra smiled as he half scoffed about not having seen anything yet as he lead her towards a set of large dark doors. So far that evening she’d learned to not doubt him. The Tsua, and Pantera namely, certainly held many surprises for her. The smile turned into a grin as she wondered what sort he would have in store for her much later…

The room was a contradiction. Darker than the other, it had an innocent air about it that didn’t fit with the overall look it bore. The dog-like statues had a way about them that made her feel watched while the darkness of the room and its deeply hued woods gave the room a slightly warmer feel, at least to Cindra, who was use to stony interiors, and the mix of the two had her a bit confused as to how she should have felt standing there. Silently, her arm still wrapped around Pantera’s for the moment, the one familiarity she was afforded, she watched as Torsson wheeled a piano into a more spacious part of the room and against a wall, presumably to prepare for a performance. Without thinking, her free hand crossed in front of her to lie gently on his arm as well, as if she sensed she would soon need to pull away from the one thing she felt any measure of comfort in that evening.

Her nails lightly dug into his arm as his were-associate returned from another room, bearing a worn case. The moment it crossed the threshold she felt the air in the room shift and the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. No amount of innocence in the world could have countered the feel of that thing buried in an innocuous looking case. Before Torsson could reach them, Cindra swiftly plucked a clove cigarette from her gown, slipped it between her rouged lips and had taken Pantera’s jaw in hand to turn his face towards her, skillfully pressing the end of the clove against the lit end of his cigarette, quickly lighting her own with a long draw. The move was, by now, second nature, one done many times, just not with Pantera, that it was done just in time to graze under his chin with her nails as she withdrew. The damned case was held out to Pantera as she released his arm and took another pace back, taking a long drag on the dark spiced cylinder, hoping to God it would act quickly as the strong smoke filled her lungs. Cindra prayed that the violin she knew would be inside wouldn’t feel worse than the case carrying it. Already her stomach was on tender hooks.

Pantera took the tinge of darkness well, but she still had quite the reaction to it. Granted, she had snooped about her father’s study more since the young wizard’s visit to her family home, taking advantage of another of Luan’s impromptu trips to see what else he might have gotten his hands on that she overlooked, and while the exposure, prolonged as it was compared to usual, had helped her handle the proximity of it at the Tsua’s that case had made her adverse reaction rear it’s ugly head in kind.

Exhaling slowly the scented smoke, she caught the similar look on the were’s face and her thumbnail worried the filter end of her cigarette as she looked to Pantera in time to see him open the case and shudder at the wave that assaulted the air that had her closing her eyes and swallowing hard. Her heart was racing as Cindra opened her blue-gray eyes and her hand shook lightly as she brought the clove to her lips for another drawn out inhale of blessedly sense numbing smoke. God, she needed some firewhiskey.

The thing was sickeningly beautiful, much like the grin on Pantera’s lips. Her eyes never left him after that, in mixed wonder and worry, his grin doing little to ease her tension with the abhorred thing in his hands. In her peripheral vision she knew Torsson was moving about, probably stowing the case away that had been holding in the majority of the sickly sweet tinge its darkness emitted and she regretted its being gone.

As he told her about the violin, she took two more long drags, enough to burn the clove down nearly to the filter and she shuddered wanting to move further away from it though Pantera himself was the one thing she wanted near. The sides warred and she remained in place, eyeing the violin warily as she covered her mouth at the mention of priests’ bones. No wonder she felt ill.

“Where,” Cindra began to ask from behind that delicate ringed hand, her voice shaking lightly as she locked her gaze on his, “is the bow?” Something told her she didn’t want to hear the answer to that, yet her curiosity won out. Wanting to know or not, she’d soon find out and at least maybe this way she’d be spared the shock of surprise later when she was likely to be amongst an audience.

[Pantera Tsua]

The bone was gloriously smooth under the pads of Pantera’s fingers, with only a few imperfections stemming from where the bone had been cut and shaped. it was a primitive thing, but at the same more glorious then it could ever were it made of glass or gold. Markings from several languages were cut into the slightly raised surface under the strings, written vertically and compactly as not to mar the rest of the instrument’s shape. Once upon a time the thing had unnerved him, but Pantera was forced into contact with it from a young age and so never got the chance to ever withdraw from that enveloping feeling, that taint of darkness and foreboding it emanated. It almost felt like he’d missed it and in some respects it had missed him; the bone made his fingers ache where he held it, like the life was being pulled from his insides and the young wizard kept his gaze fixed on violin even when Cindra enquired about its elusive bow.

Pantera almost laughed, letting his grin curve a little more at its edges as another cold shiver flooded up his spine and he moved his fingers over the wires almost fondly. Well, it was a dark object; Pantera hadn’t been entirely unscathed by its practice. Torsson was the sole thing keeping him away from it, come to think of it, and Pantera’s silver hues tore themselves from the bleached object to catch the male’s expression – a mixture between discomfort and concern was wrought across his face, both at a stale-mate for control and the young wizard offered it a mental scoff, fixing a light smirk to his lips. The Werewolf had once told him that when Pantera was young, he used to be convinced it spoke to him. That it told him things with such a captivating voice that he as a little boy couldn’t stay away; He used to practice more then was healthy, until his small fingers were literally ruined and he just wasn’t physically capable of drawing a note…or even or picking up a glass. The violin was… he still thought it was…

Pantera shivered.

”Aahh. That, is a good question.” The suave Panther let a silver hue move finally to Cindra, watching her discomfort with something akin to amusement, the power and darkness flooding through his fingers beautifully, readying them for this familiar brand of music. He made no move to give her a better answer and Torsson scowled in mild protest toward the lack of it, deciding though not to voice what seemed to flicker across his cobalt hues. After that Pantera stalked over toward the glossy floor the piano was settled on and the Werewolf offered Cindra a meek smile, bowing as he gestured her to follow him, somewhat apologetic he couldn’t be more formal about it. Offering his arm was something the unfortunate creature wasn’t privy to doing, not even for Pantera, but the boy was dominative and forceful enough to get it anyway. A slight blush patterned the pale male’s cheeks, more out of timidness then anything as he led the female close to the ‘stage’ and gestured her into a dark chair with a velvet pillow softening it’s seat.

”This shouldn’t take long, but be wary of the people that sit next to you. The people that have seen you on his arm will be curious and those that know him … well, I’m sure you can imagine the sorts of people Pan is often surrounded by.” There was underlying amusement in that statement, but there was also a lot of unnerve mixed in, discomfort perhaps. It was hard to say whether this was just due to the Werewolf’s stranger personality though, or rather some factual basis.

A couple of stiff waiters floated in as elegantly as they could, baring trays with food and more drinks, in a variety this time…as the fine wine dished out earlier had been more like a starter then anything. The drinks would get stronger and the patrons would get looser; not to the point of rutting against shelves or throwing up behind one of the many watchful statues, nor to the point of making a fort out of chairs or dancing round a primitive fire in one of the many large rooms, but liquor loosened lips and there was always a cold agenda to these sort of parties. Worming out the weak, pushing them down, cutting off fingers ‘till something slipped and the real punishments could begin. It was an interesting process, but Pantera was just as vulnerable as the masses now that he had no immunity, it was a cruel hand dealt, but the young wizard couldn’t say he didn’t expect it; with the sorts of things he played, worshipped and dealt back in return…

It was safe to assume the devil had a hefty share of all that was Pantera and would come to claim it all soon.

The crowd followed the waiters and the tall slender Tancred Torsson watched them absently, offering the female a fleeting smile before he bowed stiffly again and turned to step up to Pantera, flushing a little as he closed his eyes to mutter something to the boy. Rewarded with an unheard chuckle and a comment that made the silver in his eyes dance with fiendish excitement, Torsson looked a little more uncomfortable for a moment, flushing heavily as the young male hooked his free arm round the Were’s neck and pushed their lips together with no subtlety what-so-ever, earning the pause of nearly half the crowd strolling leisurely to their dark seats or an appropriate place to stand.

There were murmurs regarding the violin, murmurs about Pantera, the Tsua family in general and poor Tancred Torsson who didn’t deserve any of the sorts of comments he got. It was particularly the female’s that brought up Cindra herself, commenting on the fact that she’d been on Pantera’s arm before Torsson had greeted them, they didn’t keep their voices particularly low, as if they were immune from the pettiness of their own gossip solely because of their stature.

Another comment from Pantera and Torsson withdrew, flustered, embarrassed and maybe even a little ashamed as he sat down with these things wrought across his unfortunately expressive face. He slid his long fingers across the keys, looking up only for Pantera’s signal as the crowd settled and the murmurs quietened to things that were best kept as secretive as possible.

Still without a bow of any kind for his Violin, Pantera lifted a hand to his head, filtering his blackened fingers through his hair before he closed his eyes and Torsson’s playing began. It was a sweet build up of sound, a set up to contrast what Pantera would be letting loose. The young wizard lifted a bow less hand and strummed his fingers across the razor wires and the crowd gasped as crimson immediately drew down the bleach of the violin in streaks, the male drew his hand in a slight curve away from the wires and a lash of blood hovered in the air, as if frozen in time, like a piece of liquid string connecting his fingers to the wires.

The sound it made was horrifyingly glorious and Pantera shifted his hand, clutching the line of frozen crimson in a hand before he drew it across those hungry razor wires and that sound continued, twisted into music that tore itself through the body, violated the mind and ripped sensitivity guards to pieces. The dark flood of it lashed against the walls and one could swear the sentinel statues moved and dipped their snarling heads. Pantera’s chin and part of his jaw was rested in the hold, taking a statuesque pose that did wonders for his suit clad figure and the primal air and appearance he offered. Silence came over the crowd as the violin’s song twisted into fantastic urgency, incurring flushes up unnerve, even fear as the music coiled round the room like a giant serpent. No one could take their eyes away, whether they enjoyed it or not, whether they approved or not. Urgency dipped and was replaced smoothly with contemplation, then a brash jerk of noise followed by sorrow, sick ominous sorrow that would mostly be misunderstood as madness. The music peaked again and Torsson’s piano playing became dominant, over took the hollow, but captivating howl of the violin as they prepared to finish off his foreboding rhapsody.

The two’s music met somewhere in the middle and melded together skilfully, before the music went to an all time peak of power and emotion before it abruptly finished and the crowd remain silent a moment more, hungry eyes fixed sharply on the two men and that accursed violin as if they alone were the key to every dark little dream. Applause followed and Torsson quickly got up from his seat at the piano to tend to Pantera, looking worried when the young wizard kept his gaze on the bloodied violin as if he were listening to some important instruction. A smirk flickered across his black lips in response to the Werewolf’s hand on the object, trying to take it away as easy as possible.

”Cindra Rourke. I’m surprised to see you here and not your Father. On the young Tsua’s arm no less…” A sharp eyed brunette, a strange flippant male that had no real personality of his own – or so it seemed. Well, one shouldn’t be surprised; he was a reporter after all. Oh no, his name wasn’t on some fancy column or wizards magazine; he was simply a man of information, he was the guy that took joy in telling someone devastating things about their heroes. The male lent forward on the back of Cindra’s chair, looking over her shoulder with shameless intimacy, smiling flippantly toward the Werewolf and the young wizard on the stage. “Mm. That was impressive, don’t you think? But what kind of hellish cave troll would make their little boy play that thing, hmm?” Apparently he was going somewhere with this, as his smile twitched a little. “ Aren’t you teaching him a Hogwarts, professor? I say, this is quite like one of Silvia Bizzaro’s scandalous romance novels. I can’t say dipping your hand into the cradle is particularly wise – I hear that’s a place the boy reserves for ravenous monsters only.” Another twitch and the tall man moves, he’s built in a similar fashion to Torsson, but he has an imposing air despite that smile pressed to his face and he’s undeniably strong; That rat bastard Cornello Rem.

”Have you heard the story of how they met? Oh! That’s right, how is you father? I do recall he kicked me out personally the last time he caught me in the Ministry bins… something that ended with a threat, if I do recall; Luan is a naughty boy, isn’t he? Seems you’ve got that streak too – nice dress by the way.”

[Cindra Rourke]

It might have been a good question, but it certainly wasn’t going to be followed by a good answer. That was made apparent when his slight look of amusement, unnerving to say the least with that thing in his hand, turned from her as he walked towards the piano. Though his not offering her a better response rankled her a bit, Cindra was infinetly grateful for the measure of relief she felt having a little more distance between her and the dark instrument. Her eyes never left Pantera, the sight of him holding the damned object in a way that she knew couldn’t be healthy but was probably also one born out of familiarity. Considering one usually picked up the instrument at an early age, especially amongst their pureblood ranks, she imagined the familiarly between the young wizard and dark violin one that reached back years beyond mention. Yet another reason the hair on the back of her neck stood on end.

Torsson really was the pale opposite of Pantera. In a way, she supposed it was the main reason she was finding herself rather fond of the poor Were. Nothing like the fondness she bore for his dark employer; that was far more carnal than perhaps good society would approve of, but since when had the pureblood families they associated with truly follow the dictates of said society? They were of the rung that wrote it for themselves and damn well got away with it too. Yes, some things remained unchanged, such as bloodline hierarchies, and arranged marriages, but several other aspects would make the ‘lighter’ families blush. It was her own grandfather that had wed his great niece, if only because she had become the heir to her father’s line and the inheritance he drew into the Rourke coffers was so substantial, most of it still sat untouched, collecting dust in Gringotts.

No, with Torsson, it was a shame really, he very nearly reminded her of a pet. Sweet, timid, seeking approval, and pettable. The thought almost made her chuckle as he cast her a meek smile and bowed, her hand tempted to reach out and pat him on the head, but instead she took the final drag from the clove before disposing of it and steeling herself to follow him closer to the ‘stage’ and that damned violin, offering her a dark velvet cushioned chair. Slowly lowering herself into it, she was careful how she crossed her legs, it being impossible to do so without a good deal of a leg to wind up exposed, but should she use the wrong leg, or not angle it just so, the slit would reveal her to the hip, and while at times such an image could be used as a good weapon, the need wasn’t present nor was Cindra sure how Pantera would take to the display without his possessive proximity.

Cindra tilted her blue-gray eyes up towards Torsson as he spoke, his words nothing surprising but appreciated all the same. The curious always did find a way to sit closest to the face of mention and therefore expected, but the Were had one very good point…. the Tsua certainly had a different shade of characters around them. Like the difference between a muggle Drambuie and Sambuca. Both rich, intoxicating, yet with a distinctly unique aftertaste. Her dealings there already told her she had best get use to handling the sickly sweet tempting tinge, whether she liked it or not, avoiding it was no longer going to be an option, especially if Pantera got his way. His influence on her should have been troubling. Funny it wasn’t.

As more food and drink appeared, Cindra took advantage of it, lifting a glass of dark Chianti, the Italian wine being more to her liking, namely due to its effects on ones senses. After scanning those filtering in, she took the distraction of Pantera’s impromptu kiss of the Were and quickly downed the glass before eyes would roam again. It seared almost as pleasantly on the way down her throat, its intense flavor filling her nostrils as she breathed in relief and deposited the glass with a delicate hand just as the room nearly filled.

Her ears heard the murmurs… agreeing with much being whispered about the violin, a few about Pantera, though several had her gritting her teeth, and especially at those aimed at Torsson, prejudice and bias being the catalyst for those, but they also too note of those towards her, and she grinned despite herself as many, nearly all female, let their imaginations run wild. They had no idea really, but then again, she still had some to learn of this too. All evening in fact.

Her question as to the bow came back to the forefront of her mind as Torsson took his place and Pantera still had not produced one. A niggling in the back of her mind tugged at her and she didn’t want to entertain it. It was absurd and gruesome and should it be right, she’d rather have a moment more in blissful ignorance as the Were began playing. When her now lover lifted naught but a blackened fingertips hand she felt her stomach roll over and her hands clasped together tightly in her lap, her back straightening even more in the dark chair, looking like she was sitting on the edge of her seat in anticipation, only it wasn’t for the performance as much as it was the reaction she knew she’d soon have to quell. At first sight of crimson, she closed her eyes but kept her face stoic. Breathing evenly, she fought the nausea that struck like a backhand to the face, flushing as she forced herself to keep up appearances and open her eyes and cast a forced, weak smile. The blood bow he now employed was no shock, a part of her mind grinning at having puzzled it out while the rest of her was appalled by her own blasé look on it.

The music held her as captive as the rest of the audience, it literally embracing her and toying with her like a lover, tingles of grazing touches running up her arms, legs, spine, while it feels like its whispering in her ears words of sensuality, brutality, and release. It both excited her and repulsed her at the same time and Cindra had never wanted a performance to end so quickly. The temptation to fully enjoy the haunting notes of that dark instrument were almost too much to fight and the realization unsettled her. How could she willingly let herself become enraptured with that which was sickening her? Looking around the room, she caught a few other eyes that seemed to think the same thing.

Strangely, she felt both immensely relieved and disappointed when the music ended, the warring sides playing out to the final fading note. It might have lingered longer were it not for the most obnoxious noise known to wizarding kind. Cindra should have smelled his foul stench from across the Tsua Home, but she’d blame it on the bone violin and it’s awful bittersweet licorice like taste on the air for overpowering it. While being anywhere within a ten foot radius of the man left one feeling sullied and in need of a hot shower, Cindra smirked and failed to move her gaze towards the bastard, but spoke to him as pointedly as if she was giving him the decency of her gaze.

“I’m surprised you see at all Rem, after that little debacle last election when you slandered Haverty’s daughter. Who was it again that cursed that deranged clawing witch of a governess off of you during that press conference when no one else lifted a finger in your defense.. oh, yes… “ her smirk deepened and a delicate brow rose. “Luan Rourke. My, how one forgets his obligations.” A ruthlessly pleased look lit her features and to anyone else within viewing distance, it would be apparent one didn’t want to come between her and the rodent she was trapping. “I’ll be sure to tell him of your… congeniality.” Translation= you bit the hand that saved you… run.

While she wanted to lift a hand to the damned head by her shoulder and curse it into oblivion, her fingers entwined and her eyes caught sight of someone she was rather shocked to see in attendance, though their present couldn’t have come at a better time. Grinning like a cat, Cindra untangled her hands as she cast him a look of ‘come hither’. As expected the middle-aged wizard gave her his patent grin and began making his way towards her and the insect Cornello. In the meantime, Cindra decided to toy with the rodent.

“Oh, do remind me again how many years were between your mother and father? I once heard it said she must have had some ability if she tricked a wizard nearly half her age into her bed. Think it was her last hurrah, Cornello? A final botched charm to wiggle a young prick between her sheets?” There was no need to speak of her own eight years seniority over Pantera, or the fact she did in fact teach him at Hogwarts. There were ways around the technicality, him being of age, her being heiress to a family whose power lines ran deep and long, and between them both, the possible arrangement of two steel fisted Patriarchs. Even Rem would know how little that would cloud anything, for them at least.

“And yet here you are, digging your nose in where it might very well get lobbed off.” A sweet smile, though Cindra still made it a point to not look at the man. Disrespect was easily afforded, and overlooked in such as setting, especially when giving by one of higher social standing. Thing was the arse would let it slide as if the fact everyone there was above him and some only let him taint their evening because of the filth he dug up. And as if on cue, Durkin Nolles walked up and bowed before her. Even before he had his hand out to her, Cindra had hers lifted for him, showing the potions dealer every nicety she denied Cornello. “Durkin,” a sweet nearly sing song greeting, “What a pleasant surprise to see you!”

He kissed the air above her hand and kept a hold of it a few seconds longer than necessary but she gave no indication of it bothering her. She had him well trained. He looked over at Rem and cocked an eyebrow as he slowly released her hand, his eyes piercing the rat. “Ren,” he purposely mispronounced his name, “have the Tsua’s forgotten to clean out their dust bins again or has some fool with cheese led you out of your little hole?”

Cindra chuckled and stood, laying a hand on Durkin’s upper arm, her gaze on his face as she made to step more towards Pantera, eager to find out why the hell Cornello was there, if he even knew. “Now Durkin, I’m sure the Tsua’s have a cat around here somewhere perfectly capable of persuading poor Cornello here to mind his place. He’ll be on his best behavior, won’t you?” Finally she turned her head towards the bloody rodent. “After all, we all know how telling stories can get one into trouble… isn’t that right?” After a piercing look to Rem that promised of a good cursing into next year if he didn’t watch his damn step, she turned to Pantera in the hopes he had torn his gaze, and thoughts away from that damn violin long enough to catch her gaze.

[Pantera Tsua]

“Oh, my dear. I still very much am aware of my ‘Obligations’, seems to me you’re the one who has strayed from that point.” He pulled a childish face, one that mocked and demeaned her in the way it pulled across his face. He has an expression of mock surprise, as if letting something go he shouldn’t have – with the clear intention to rub it in her face at the same time. The weasel of a man smiled inanely at her, his world made of polished gold… or perhaps less conventional things such slippery silver-tongued worms cherished. “ I daresay my sweet Master Luan hasn’t heard of this ‘relationship’? I’m not sure he’d approve of that display from earlier, either.” Cornello Rem hummed, with a much learned display of subtle impudence, a rat who gathers information must have certain powers of ambiguity. “It’s in funny just how quickly all those years of pompous lessons go out the window, when there’s a dark little tail to chase?”

The male leaned back from over her shoulder and took a seat without invitation, pulling it back to sit across it informally, contrasting starkly to the primped and premed creatures stiffly perched about the room, still murmuring and reeling from the Young Masters display. The mans eyes sharpened a little, unconsciously when he took in the sight of Pantera, who was saying something probably ‘improper’ to his attentive Were, still holding the violin in his bleeding fingers, loath to separate himself from the homely, enveloping darkness. It was somewhat of a weakness; Cornello was aware and momentarily forgot the female next to him in a bid to discern the situation over which way – one he was forbidden to enter. That little impromptu bastard would literally eat him alive.

God knows what his pet Wolf would do with the remains.

“I’m much grateful for Luan’s aid, though a bit surprised, I’m aware he wouldn’t have done it, were I not of some minimal value, however. Are you sure I’m the one out of the loop?” The Rat was dousing himself in spoils, his otherwise flippant gaze tensing a little at the jabs toward his family. The frame of his eyes were a little tainted and his pupils surveyed the crimson garbed female as if she was amidst telling him a promising joke. Family trickery, how very like a ‘Princess’, though the execution was interesting – though Cindra Rouke and her differing traits were old news, if not expected from Luan who had only ever been interested in birthing a son to carry on his name. Whatever was the male to do now? The woman’s birthright was doomed to vanish into some suited Wizards pocket; life was so cruelly and brutally hilarious.

“Who knows, can’t say I remember. Though, it is intriguing isn’t it? Similar to the game you’re playing, in fact. Though it seems like our delicious little Pantera is the Master. Honestly? At least my Dear Mother had some semblance of a reason. You’re just being dragged along until the boy gets bored with you. Oh~ it’s such a shame, you do look so takeable in that dress of yours.” An eye drew down it, amusement clear on his features rather then anything, there was no primal taint, nor even desire – it was a little odd, in fact. “How does it feel? I’d be pretty riled if my Wizard had serviced nearly everyone in the room but me. Should I get you some ice?” He closed his eyes into the smile that cracked across his whole face, from ear to ear like some sanctimonious fox.

The female wasn’t looking at him, but Cornello was used to this sort of treatment, it was the only thing people like her could do, without seeming unsightly around the people it mattered most to keep up appearances with. Such advantage; from entering the room onward, Rem had resigned himself to scum – at least until he informed the odd person who it was who had invited him.

Ohh? Employing a pet was she? Vindictive woman. At this point though, Rem rather thought they all were, despite their sinful pleasures – they had a rock-slide of downsides. Durkin Nolles… Potions dealer, a rather boring man, but Cornello let a smirk ride his face at the lingering contact with Mistress Rourke, leaning his head on the palm of a hand as if entirely and unashamedly relaxed. That comment pertaining to the Tsua made an awful grin part his lips, like a damned tripwire, a sharp glitter rode the hue of his eyes and the air turned sickening about him for a moment, a cloud of foreboding circling that told one they’d just struck the mother of all Hungarian Horntails right in the face.

“Ohhh, when the cats are away, Durkin dear~” Apparently Cornello was going to keep whatever that was to himself until the most inappropriate moment. The Italian male tipped his head a little into his hand, observing Cindra promptly as she thought to ‘warn’ him, her level of subtlety lacking – clearly he’d said something that she didn’t like, or maybe it was his presence here that made her keen for the Dark Wizard who’d finally been coaxed away from the Violin. “Telling stories can get a lot of people into trouble, I’m quite aware, Miss Rourke. Maybe I’m not the one who should behave?” Was Durkin a plot to cut his attentions? A blithe smile addressed the potions dealer as the Witch vacated the table and headed for the Tsua heir. “ Do you piss on command too, Nolles?” he asked, quite suddenly, as casually as if he were commenting on the weather.

Pantera was met with various couples from the moment he’d finished, some inquired as to the skill of the music, others to the origin of the dark instrument but most came to him in proposition. Meetings and mutterings of things they were quite foolish to bring up in such a place. Scathing them with a look of irritation each time Pantera gave in to very few demands and for this carelessness was forced to cut a lot more off then he would have originally calculated. It was during one of these, where Pantera was giving a rather brutal reprimand to two curiously average looking people, that Torsson took he time to slowly ease the Violin from the male, casing it promptly and quickly as if the bloodied thing was burning his fingers to the bone. The Werewolf rested his eyes on it, with some level of distaste, pulling out an dark crimson flushed wand to remove the blood, pulling it from the objects surface before it snapped and fizzled out of existence.

Pantera looked seething, that stark silver in his hues having intensified with continued irritation, he lifted his hands up close to his mouth – lighting another cigarette, shielding the flame for no reason other then to glare at it eating away at his cigarette end. Shit, that was almost half this weeks stock pushed away, he was going to have to work fast and hard to fill the orders, that and it meant he’d have to seek out some precarious aid, not to mention the fact it also meant he’d have to make an appearance himself a couple of times. The dark blackened frames of his eyes closed, leaving only a sliver of brash platinum between his long lashes as he exhaled a long ashen serpent into the air, pupils flickering lazily toward the movement of colour to his side before he focused on it mildly and noted Cindra.

Though he was looking at her, his thoughts were in this particular problem, followed by the brash intrusive thought that cursed his empty hand, the loss of sound and that snarling inclination of everlasting darkness arched, craned, attached to his back and shoulders.

He wanted the Violin back, but knew Torsson would adamantly refuse; after last time Pantera couldn’t particularly blame him, shuddering slightly, a slender hand still cupped partially over his mouth as he observed the woman like she was merely a place to rest his eyes.

”What did you think?”

[Cindra Rourke]

No, she was well aware of her own obligations, namely to Portia and secondly, albeit grudgingly, to her own father. It was safe to say Luan had yet to learn of the relationship between her and Pantera, and that evening would certainly see to his discovery of the fact, especially with Cornello Rem in attendance. Unfortunately, the bastard had one thing right, her father wasn’t going to take kindly to her being so openly ‘attached’ to a wizard she was neither wed nor formally betrothed to. Fucking interfering rat, he was bound to enjoy every minute of retelling, and embellishing, every sordid detail to Luan Rourke.

“Don’t dare deem to tell me my obligations, Rem. You may sully your hands digging in every notable family’s trash heap to find your wares but your fingers aren’t as nimble and sensitive as you would hope. You’ll know what I allow… as always.” An eyebrow rose as she smirked, a slight turn on her head causing the fine chains dangling from her hair sticks to move gently, the gemstone at their ends tinkling softly against each other as a waiter appeared at her side and a slim hand reached out for another blessed glass of Chianti. Cornello rambled on and the crystal was pressed to her rouged lips and a small sip was taken, the overwhelming scent of the rich, blood red wine flooding her senses and relieving her, for a time, of Rem’s presence and the ill-received memories that came unbidden with it.

Leave it to a rat to cheapen the value of a fine crafted furnishing with flippant disregard, let alone ruin the ambiance. While the rest of the assembled conducted themselves with decorum, or as much as the event and drink allowed at such gathering, the Tsua’s circle being considered, the brunette had the gall to practically stretch himself across a seat like he was at a damned quidditch match. The uncultured swine. Blue-gray eyes glanced towards him and followed the direction of his gaze. Upon settling on Pantera, Cindra snapped her eyes back to the glass in hand a brief, fleeting sense of possessiveness flushing through her at Rem’s look towards Pan. Torrson she had no issue with. He as quite different from Cindra herself, a different taste per say and with his temperament, she could understand the appeal and the thought of the two together didn’t trouble her in the least. It seemed rather natural, really, for reasons she couldn’t pin point and frankly had no desire to do so. Cindra had accepted it already, hence, there was no call to analyze it further.

But Cornello Rem? Hell. No.

Cindra Rourke, out of the loop? That hit too close to home. As of late, she had discovered several things she had been kept in the dark about, and Pantera as well it appeared, all of which pointed to ties being made between the Rourkes and Tsuas. Fortunately, the damned wizard was more reaching for straws, pissed no doubt at her airing his family’s laundry for all and sundry within earshot. Cindra mightn’t pull a wand on someone without a hell of a lot of provocation, but she was rather liberal with her sharp tongue. “Minimal value? You give yourself far too much credit. He prefers to temper the unpredictable and keep infestations in check.” Deep red lips curled into a grin worthy a feline. “And I’d say he’s done that rather effectively.”

Since the incident indebting Cornello to her father, less and less damning little tidbits had passed his cheesy lips in regards to the Rourkes, though she knew Luan released, or left unguarded, juicy morsels here and there for the bastard to appease the slime or serve some purpose in her father’s agenda. Instead of a wild street rat the patriarch had more of a lab mouse, giving it more than Cindra felt prudent, but then she always had desired a higher level of privacy than Master Luan.

“Pan? The Master?” The ginger chuckled. If anything she was of the higher rank as far as their ‘business’ association went. Pantera had yet to even meet Portia and had still to prove his complete worthiness and earn the trust of the mastermind that viewed her as his second set of eyes, his gauge, and wielder of secrets. As for the personal tie between her and Pantera… “He’ll take only that which I offer and nothing more. I have no Master, nor will I. The only thing being dragged around is you… as usual.”

Durkin was drawing closer and several questions rose to mind as to his reason for being amongst the audience. Other than ties to the Rourkes, and their new dealings with the Tsua, she could find little to bring the potions dealer there. “Save the ice for yourself. It may be quite some time indeed before you get serviced again.” If he hoped to get a heated reaction to his comment, he was going to be sorely disappointed. Grinning like a damned Cheshire, the details behind the Rem marriage fallout known to many, Cindra stood and stepped up to the wizard nearly old enough to be her father.

Cornello couldn’t let Durkin have the final word, not that she expected less of him. Still, there was something behind his reply and that fucking look on his oily face, it didn’t sit well with her and Cindra’s instincts set off warning bells. The potions dealer chuckled, amused somehow by the rat’s response and she cast the old wizard a questioning glance. There was a familiarity between the mismatched pair, ginger Artihmancer and graying business mogul, which was evident by their proximity and ease of expression. Were it not for the long standing ties between Rourke and Nolles, one might have wondered at the interplay, but not when one of Luan Rourke’s associates was intervening on his Heiress’ behalf where Cornello Rem was sniffing about.

Her hand still rested lightly on his arm as she pointedly turned her back to Rem and cast Durkin a look that said she wished to speak with him, privately, as soon as the opportunity arose.

Stepping to the side, only now directly looking at the slippery bastard, Cindra retorted. “Behave according to whose standards? Yours?… For if so, there is much left for me to do.” A smirk spread on her lips and lit her eyes as Durkin placed a wrinkled hand over hers and moved to wrap it about his arm.

“Scurry off to your master, Rem. Come, Miss Rourke.” With a gentlemanly air, the old wizard led her aside and away from Cornello.

He took cues well. Only once he had her away from the rat’s ear did he release her and she lifted her glass to her lips for another sip, eyes locked on the man before speaking, her annoyance palpable. “How long have you known?” She’d not waste on delicacy, not with him. “And how long were you going to wait before you spoke with me, or were you thinking I’d not piece this one together miraculously and you’d be spared the deed?” Her fingers clutched the stem a little tighter and it was the thought of how she could make the wizard miserable that made her find any humor in the situation, to which she lightly chuckled and ‘tisked’ as she raised the glass, the sound echoing in the bulbous crystal before the red liquid hit her lips and cut it off, a piercing gaze settling on him.

“A month.” At least he had the sense to appear apologetic, but she knew better. “I thought it would be best to let Luan inform you himself.” Due to her temper, no doubt. Durkin suddenly rubbed at the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes from her.

“Headache, Durkin? Good.” She placed her glass on the ledge below one of the sentinel like statues beside her. “You’d do well to remember what I’ve done for you, not only my father, and who, ultimately, will hold the reigns he’s forged.” Her tone was crisp yet her expression one that from a distance looked as gentle and congenial as a lady of her standing should wear. “No matter his plans, whether they include your son or not, I have my own. Staying in my good graces would see you both fairing far better.” The things she knew would make her father’s head spin, and Durkin didn’t know the half of it. But he knew she had enough dirt on him to bury him for good.

His face hardened a moment and she cocked an eyebrow in challenged return. Gazes locked, it was his that finally tore away with a resigned noise. “Noted.” Making a point of straightening his robes, as if it would spare his dignity in front of her, he paled slightly and with his gaze averted and head tipped down, begged his leave to which she nodded.

Cindra watched him leave, chastened and looking as sour as an old man should and smiling, she retrieved her glass of wine. The damned licorice tinge of the violin still lingered near the stage and stepping closer, she was grateful for the Chianti and the measure of numbness it provided her reactions to it as it drifted about Pantera himself, even if he was thankfully free of the bone monstrosity’s grasp. He didn’t seem all that pleased with its absence though there was no way in hell she’d have drawn this close to him had it not been sequestered back in its case. Though Pantera spoke to her, his gaze was distracted, detached from her, and another shiver ran down her spine.

“I found it beautifully terrifying, truth be told.” The tinge scraped at her awareness and she fought off a shudder with another sip of wine. "Do you do this often?"

Please, dear deities, be no.