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Hogwarts School - Elsewhere
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Hogsmeade Village
»
Elixirium
(Moderators:
Lia Ayres
,
Alice Swan
) »
run from the devil || avarice
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Topic: run from the devil || avarice (Read 107 times)
Alice Swan
(10/09/2024 at 01:37)
Owner of Elixirium
C13D11T9S7
february 1972
00:14 a.m.
Her hip pressed into the counter, legs crossed at the ankles, the slit of her dress hiking up her thigh exposing soft skin. Alice smoothed the red silk that adorned her curves; call it her work uniform, a reminder to these pitiful men that she bathed in money and elegance, and that their power was a joke compared to the influence she had in the criminal underworld.
”That all twenty vials?”
“Need me to count for you, big boy?” she drawled lowly, eyes admiring freshly manicured nails.
In the corner of her eye, he bristled.
”And these’ll work?”
Light eyes flickered up to meet the man whose flush was apparent even in the dimly light storage room. Her head tilted, golden waves covering one eye. “Are you doubting my capabilities?” her smooth smoky voice asked, betraying the sharpness in her gaze.
The boy—and really that was what he was, a
boy
—shriveled.
”N-No, ‘mam. The boss was just—“
he gulped. Paused, continued,
“The boss’ll be happy,”
he stammered, dropping a bag that sounded heavy from the sound it made on the counter.
She hummed. “Tell Howard I miss him, will you?”
She stepped towards him, and she could hear his heart race in the distance she swallowed between them. Her mouth quirked up, kind and loving as her knuckles traced his cheek, running down to his lips and stopping at his chin. She could feel him press into her touch, his eyes glazing, spine curling to get closer.
“And tell him next time he questions my skills—” Suddenly, her claws sunk in his jaw, enough to leave half-crescent moons on his skin. The sweet illusion on her lips faded leaving viciousness to take its place. “I’ll feed his potions to his messenger boys.”
The boy’s face blanched, infatuation completely smothered by her threat. In a haste, he dashed out the stockroom, causing a low chuckle to tickle the back of her throat. Grabbing her wins, Alice walked to the front of her closed shop just as the front door opened.
Well, someone looked like shit.
In a quick calculated glance, her eyes assessed the woman’s clothes and composure. Pathetic street rats always came crawling when in need and she didn’t seem any different than the others who would get on their knees and beg for any kind of work or product she could give them.
But there was always a price, and she wondered, looking at this miserable excuse of a woman before her—they had their stench, these lowly people, and she felt it permeate the air—if she could afford whatever she came asking Alice Swan.
(They rarely could; now
that
was the fun part.)
Her heels clicked against the floor as she rounded the counter and leaned back against it. Predatory eyes latched onto her prey.
“Name your vice.”
Sylvia Kate Whitwell
(10/23/2024 at 23:00)
Bartender and Dancer at The Snake Pit
C9D9T7S7
Of
course
she knew the less
legal
things that went on at the Elixirium—she wasn't a fool, after all, no matter how she presented to others, and she had dealt enough with Alice Swan, however indirectly, to know the woman to be a dangerous thing. But strangely, and perhaps a bit foolishly, she hardly flinched when the boy picking up whatever it was that people picked up for
Howard
all but shoved by her. "Wotcher, Pip," she greeted the youngster gruffly, but a panicked look in his eyes told her he didn't intend on loitering. A smart move, really.
And then, to Alice, Sylvia remarked: "I wonder when Howard is gonna hire some help with some thicker skin." The words were like a white flag: her intentions were peaceful, if not a full surrender, because she realized with stark clarity how she compared to the other woman. While Alice Swan looked manicured and put-together, Sylvia Kate looked the role of the street urchin in her leather and denim and weathered boots. Alice's hair was sleek and blonde, not a strand out of place, while Sylvia's new blunt cut to replace a usually messy mane had frizzed from the drizzle outside. And though Sylvia wasn't a vain person, being in the presence of somebody so well-coiffed threatened to make her so; but she maintained her confidence, she had
fought
for it, scrapped and clawed and bitten for it, after all.
"That list is too long," she replied easily, lifting her chin and letting her hazel eyes slide over Alice Swan as she rounded the counter; she looked
predatorial
, something that had Sylvia's fingers twitching not for a curled fist, for once, but for the wand stowed in her leather jacket, though she didn't immediately grab for it, instead taking a bold step forward while she unwaveringly held Alice's gaze. She was here with a purpose, after all, and even the shopkeeper's ominous intensity couldn't sway the Manchester-bred mongrel's purpose. She straightened her spine.
"Veritaserum, something undetectable," a slight twitch of her lips, "
obviously
." Then, testing her limits, she took another step forward, her hawkish gaze sweeping over Alice again in a way she hoped was intimidating, but couldn't help to think was nervous instead. "And maybe... a glimmer? Something long-lasting." It sounded stupider when she said it out loud. "Something that will appeal to the beholder," she drawled, almost mockingly, "no matter who's lookin'." If nothing else, maybe it would impress the woman just enough that Sylvia wasn't one to beat around the bush and made haste in her intentions.
Eve whispers,
I just wanted to be more
than someone else’s bones,
& God weeps
for all that he did not do.
Alice Swan
(12/06/2024 at 05:02)
Owner of Elixirium
C13D11T9S7
She looked even uglier up close.
The weak little street rat had her defenses up so high, Alice guessed the faintest chip in her feeble armor would send the pathetic thing down to her knees. If genetics granted her the smallest favor, maybe she’d be pretty in that position; let someone with little self-respect and insatiable craving test that theory.
The corner of red lips itched higher, her scrutinizing gaze not missing the twitch in the woman’s fingers. At least she had some sort of survival instinct, but so many of them walked in with the fake bravado she displayed now, ready to counter the siren only to be left enchanted by her voice and their shell empty, their soul in her clutches. Her gait gave way to purpose, and her words held a point, but her psyche was broken and her core rotten. She didn’t need to break down her illusioned fortress to see that.
But good for her, trying to test the waters and play the intimidation card. It was almost cute.
“My my, someone’s seeking trouble.”
Alice stepped closer.
“Or answers.”
Her finger traced the line of her jaw.
“Or both.”
Nothing unmanageable, of course. With
Veritaserum
being contraband, far too many walked into the shop demanding it. But at least she was creative, wanting a glim—hell, even she couldn’t lie and convince herself that was an original request; it just made her look even more like an amateur.
The unnatural lightness to her eyes pierced through the woman before her, following the lines of her face, watching misery and deception ooze out of her pores.
“Don’t look like you can pay the price.”
The pad of her finger lifted her chin up, her thumb soaring over the line of her bottom lip.
“What do you have to offer, darling?" The nickname slipped smooth like velvet, pleasant and enticing, a layer to conceal the danger of such question.
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alice swan
sylvia kate whitwell
avarice
Hogwarts School - Elsewhere
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run from the devil || avarice