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Author Topic: cabal | cassius  (Read 27 times)

* Atticus Rivera

    (01/13/2025 at 07:16)
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SUMMER 1973

SILVER SNITCH LOUNGE | A PRIVATE ROOM | LATE EVENING



Silver Snitch Lounge from the outside was not the place one would assume business could be done. It was after all a swanky, upscale club that was known to most as a place with expensive drinks and a crowd of customers who liked to sit around and congratulate each other for being born rich.

But to those in the know, there was no better place for important people to have important conversations.

Silver Snitch was a place that carried with it a deep history. Over the years, it welcomed some of the most powerful and important individuals that Wizarding Britain had ever known and invited them to sit and discuss matters that would go on to dictate history. The regular patrons went about their business while those with the real influence could retire to one of the private rooms upstairs to do their business. That business was not always above board, but it was an unspoken rule that the business done there was kept locked behind tight lips.

Atticus had not made the place a frequent hang out, but he’d be lying if he said he’d never been before. He had sat in on some important political discussions in the upstairs rooms, but had never been one of the drivers of the conversation. That was to be different this time though. The private room was booked under his name, and it was to be on his approval only that anyone be admitted to the room. Surrounding him were just three individuals, all of whom had worked on his staff while he was in the highest seats of power at the Ministry. They were three people he trusted, and that went a long way with the business at hand being what it was.

His company for the evening was to be Cassius Ellwood-Luxe, a man who needed no introduction to anyone in the Wizarding World. He was a powerful figure, but one of the few of that sort who Atticus held any sort of reverence for. Though not all knew how to read him, Atticus knew exactly what sort of person Cassius was and knew as a result just how much their values and desires for the future aligned. It would do wonders for Atticus to have a man like that standing on his side, and that was precisely what Atticus intended to make happen with this meeting.

”Mr. Rivera, Mr. Ellwood-Luxe is outside. He’s saying he is here to answer a call from you,” the door attendant said, poking his head in.

“Yes, yes, please send him in,” Atticus said, rising from his seat.

Moments later, the door was opened and the attendant showed the other man in. Atticus greeted him with a warm smile and an extended hand.

“Thank you for meeting with me, sir. I can imagine you’ve got many places you could be, so I’m honored that you’ve chosen to be here.”


EVERYTHING I GIVE YOU

all comes back to me

* Cassius Ellwood-Luxe

    (01/29/2025 at 05:05)
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It was the sort of place he knew Marius would have frequented once upon a time, gilded but somehow still grimy, just at the edges, beneath things. His experience with places like clubs and lounges was long, long outdated, though he could recall a time where he'd been Marius' recalcitrant shadow in a club truly not unlike this one.

Cassius was led up a staircase and down a corridor by a man in sharp robes, then shown to a private room. The door opened, Cassius nodded to the attendant who let him in, and stepped through the threshold.

It was remarkable how easy it was, walking into a room where power sat.

Atticus Rivera was almost unassuming in how pleasant and youthful he was; if Cassius hadn't known who he was to begin with he might have mistaken him for a fresh-faced upstart throwing himself an exclusive birthday party in a private room.

Cassius mirrored Rivera's smile as he took his hand and shook it, decisive.

"The pleasure is mine, Mr. Rivera," he told him. "No need for such formality-- please call me Cassius. I appreciate your invitation. This is precisely the place I want to be."

Rivera's loss had been a seismic one. It had shaken apart much of the scaffolding that Cassius had worked to build, quietly, in his networks, with regard to anti-supremacist sentiment. Where Cassius had teased apart some of the tightly knotted, deeply held beliefs that were practically endemic to his name, convincing some more amenable relatives to their cause, the loss had only served to galvanize other, more stubborn relatives, and it was Cassius' worry that the loss was symptom of a greater ill.

Cupping his hand over Rivera's before he released the handshake, Cassius squeezed.

"I've been following your stories closely. Your loss in the race was a loss for all of Britain."

He meant it.
finis coronat opus.

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