sinners

Our hearts are too ruthless to break
Let’s start fires for heavens sake

The week hadn’t been half bad, for all that she’d started Bryce on Occlumency. As he’d gone on, so had she. She was teaching it now with her grandmother, she had to be better in it. Luckily, there were a handful of books Lior had requested, and was of course, far too busy to pick up.

Honestly, Ilana wasn’t sure when either of her younger siblings had time enough for anything, let alone find some of of the older, more theoretical gifts that kept going for holiday and birthday presents, no matter how often she requested money or socks instead. Save for the last two that was, where they’d had her smuggle in winter items, potions, unguents, tinctures, and food to Kolna. How Noam managed half of that, Ilana never questioned. Still, it was further practice, keeping that from Queenie. Queenie could and did protect her own damn mind, but it was another thing to snatch at. Queenie didn’t have to know everything, after all.

The desire for privacy had been what spurred Ilana on to become an Occlumens, and it still drove her over two decades later. Her session with Queenie had had to be rescheduled for the next day— there were some hidden Muggleborns, and Queenie was planting thoughts in the Snatchers near them. Ilana had tried her hand at Legilmency before. The potential wasn’t her, and with her luck, she’d become what she hated.

A deal finished, Ilana let her hands graze her sides. The day was near-over now, and there wasn't much to do. Bryce was out for the night, and there wasn't much urge to see YJ's casino. Fun to maybe see a few try to one up each other before they vomited, but there was only so much patience Ilana had for things in a week, and the gym used up a lot of those.

A familiar turn of hair, and-- hang on. It had been months, but--

"Anya?"

[/font][/div]

☆@anya , 357 words☆

[/div]

❤fai

[/div]

The rules say our emotions don't comply
But we'll defy the rules until we die

Outfit | @ Ilana

    Anya really has little idea of how he ended up in this situation. First, Lord Lestrange had been a regular client, which was just as well because she had plenty of regular clients. Then his constant offers of the elixir and her clear emotional vulnerability had gotten her more than a little hooked on his visits. So far, it was clear, but how she had gone from there to living in an apartment he paid for in Knockturn Alley and existed at his beck and call was... puzzling to say the least. She wasn't complaining, not really. One client or many, it was just as well. She had that drink, which kept her going and kept her sane. She was free to go wherever she wanted during the day, she had money to spend, she could do whatever she liked. Only when he sent for her from the Ministry was she obligated to do something, and at night she may never be missing from the apartment. When he was around... she had nothing to say about anything. Though, really, what was it but a more honest version of what she had been doing at the Fleur? 
    Everything was mostly just as well to her. She was fine like this, she had no complaints, and when he came to her at night he brought that elixir along that made her feel alive. She could be patient until then, she could shop for clothing and books and keep herself looking presentable. She could see old acquaintances, she could visit her aunt and see some friends. It was fine, she didn't think it was so horrible, even if he left her tied up for hours on end sometimes. All she had to do was make sure to not break the few rules he had set and to not displease him when he was around. If she made sure of that then there would be no punishments and she would get more to drink. Simple. Now... she had to be on time.    
    Honestly, she'd been out at the hairdresser's and she really didn't think it would take so long, she just lost track of time. The sun was close to setting, though, and if he showed up and she wasn't there... well, things could get ugly. She'd been hurrying down the street when someone called her name and she- well, she did halt in her tracks and look around. It was a familiar voice and... oh.
    "Ilana." She walked closer to the woman, lips pulling up into a smile. "It's been a while." She shouldn't linger, and yet...

► kaigra ◄

sinners

Our hearts are too ruthless to break
Let’s start fires for heaven's sake

Ilana had never been a particularly romantic person. It wasn't like she'd scorned the other girls excited about girlfriends and boyfriends, because quite honestly that sort of misogyny was exhausting, Ilana had . . not really just cared. She'd never seen that sort of thing in her future, soft-eyed over someone. Ilana didn't do soft unless it served as. As everyone she knew knew. She did. . .softer spots, that was it. People like Dion, like Bryce, the kids who'd shoved their way through life fighting. Stubborn boys with steel in their fist and fire in their eyes-- everyone had weaknesses, after all.

So when she'd said goodbye to Anya, she hadn't expected the half-jumping something when she saw a whirl of light brown hair, the hard line of a jaw that could cut walls, the long fingers that transfixed the eye. She'd seen the other woman a few times since their initial encounter, but Ilana still. . .

It wasn't that she was bad at names, per say. It was her business to know names, keep them juggling in her head, knowing which to use when, tracking the patterns of names for objects. Code names, group names, Ilana had them in little mental boxes. Still, it was one thing to remember the name and face of an associate, of a seller, and another to remember a short fling that shouldn't have stuck with her as long as it did. But stick with her it had, and it was absolutely not that she was was moping or melancholy, but the half-hope that sprung up, the sudden fixation on someone from a distance who might look like her and the drop when it wasn't her.

It wasn't particularly like Ilana had never seen people semi-formally. She'd tried it out a little in Hogwarts and some time after, then rather tired of it. Get what's wanted, get out, stick around and continue if it works, see where that goes. It made sense to her, it was easy, and it meant that things didn't have to get personal. She'd caught some feelings from time to time, and Eden always liked making fun of her during them, and they were manageable as long as she didn't let them interfere with her work. That was her first girlfriend, after all. Her wife, somewhat? Ilana had never particularly thought of herself as a workaholic-- well, not compared to anyone else in her family, at least. She did the least of them-- Healers, attorneys, professors all.

If she wasn't working, she was planning, or practicing. There was the occasional lay,but other than that, her days were pretty repetitive unless she was working on larger projects. There wasn't much for fantasizing, except yes, that had happened a few times.

A smile flicked onto her face in response and the damn half-lurch-- "You're looking. . " polished-er, sharper, paler . . "Your hair looks good."

☆@anya , 480words☆

❤fai

The rules say our emotions don't comply
But we'll defy the rules until we die

Outfit | @ Ilana

    Her life was completely different now. In a way it was better and in another way, it wasn't. She was living comfortably now, in an apartment furnished with soft and expensive things, she had all the time in the world to read and wander about and do whatever she wanted. If she wanted to stay in bed all day listening to music, she could, and if she wanted to spend all day at the spa, she could. Lord Rabastan gave her money to provide for anything she wanted and all he wanted in return was her presence in that apartment every night, her body and her conversation. She didn't even mind it, of all the Johns she'd had since she started this work, he was far from the worst. An added bonus was the potion that kept her heart beating, by now it felt as if she needed it to breathe. As if the blood in her veins was more elixir than actual blood, she didn't even mind. The elixir made her feel more human, even though she knew that every sip she took made her even more dependent on it. 
    The bad part about being Lord Rabastan's mistress was that she was used to far more actual freedom than she had. Oh, it was a different kind of freedom. She was used to giving men her obedience at an hourly rate, but this was a constant contract. Several nights a week, he was at the apartment, but also when he wasn't there she was to do as she was told. There weren't many rules or guidelines, but if they weren't obeyed... well, he was Rabastan Lestrange. She had not considered disobeying him every since the first few times she'd done so, which hadn't even been on purpose. She was just unused to disobeying. Now, however, she had sunk into a familiar rhythm and she hadn't done anything wrong in a long while. Anya supposed that if he did show up tonight, a few minutes' tardiness would be forgiven. Just a few minutes, she had time.
    "Thank you, I was just at the hair dresser's." Anya approached, looking up at the tall woman with a faint smirk. They'd had their fun that one time, which had really been rare for Anya. Not because she didn't like women but because since she had been working nights at the Fleur she really didn't tend to feel physical desire on her time off. As if she used up all of it when she was working, it took all the joy out of it. But she had enjoyed herself that night, which had been a pleasant surprise, so she was not displeased to see Ilana again. Which didn't mean she could sleep with her any time soon, Lord Rabastan would have her head. "How have you been?"

► kaigra ◄