COMPLETE; don't read if you want fluffy, out-of-character tom.
18+
In 1926, Grindelwald is captured for the first time by Newt Scamander, making his followers go into hiding. The Petrov family, an ancient pure-blood eastern European family, is forc...
Two doors of oak wood stood in front of her, and her soul was titillated with the haziest awareness of what lay ahead, yet the only thing she could sense was the deadness in her fingers, the way her shadows danced on the tips in calculated glints. Her eyes hurried back to the group behind her, disheveled and bewildered, and they all seemed perplexed by what had just happened.
The house itself would have been unfamiliar to anyone who had not encountered them, who had not shared a meal at the same polished tables with exquisite servings and unfathomable copiousness, and even then, they might have missed the slight markings scrapped in the corners, or the sinister affinity of the atmosphere, almost as if darkness had made nest in the residence as it trailed them.
But the witch knew. She knew that, for a reason that she could not figure out, they had summoned her there, deep into the forests, and for the first time in months, Grindelwald was not her biggest fear. Why? Why had he reached out to her after a year and a half?
With a reluctant hand, she turned the bronze handle, pushing the door as she sashayed into the chamber, and it was a scene worthy of admiration. Sacrilegious, nihilistic, blasphemous— seven devils stood in an echo of The Last Supper, holding golden goblets in their hands as their devious eyes trailed the group in front of them with sardonic simpers etched on sinful lips.
Even so, her eyes only rested on him— she observed the way he stood up from his chair, different yet quite the same, and the luminosity of his cheeks had somewhat faded, yet in his eyes, there was the slightest hint of the Devil, and gone was the symphonic periwinkle, now a spectrum of marine and claret. Regardless, he remained imperially beautiful, a poem of epinician connotations, with the darkest curls and moonlight skin, and the allure of a sovereign as he stood amongst his faithful disciples.
"Well," his serpentine timber rattled, the faintest susurration with such clarity, and even after so long, it was still the zephyr of midsummer on her soul, "Delighted to have you back, darling."
And she knew it was him. It would always be him.
TRAILER
THE SEVEN DEVILS
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THE SEVEN VIRTUES
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UPDATES STARTING THE 22nd OF NOVEMBER 2020. PREFACE AND CAST ALREADY POSTED.
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