Welcome to Until The End. We are a moderate Harry Potter role-playing site set in the Marauder's Era. Our plot is generally derived from details in the book, but as an AU site we do take liberties most anywhere we like. Those who died in the books can have a second chance at living, and those who lived are always at risk.
Tom Marvolo Riddle has long since disappeared and in his stead Lord Voldemort has risen, bringing a small army with him. The Ministry of Magic has thus far ignored the growing menace that is the Death Eaters and Albus Dumbledore has taken it upon himself to defend the wizarding community from an evil he knows is building. War is coming. Pick a side!
School's Out For Summer
The Hogwart's Express has pulled up to the station in King's Cross station and the summer holidays have officially begun. What mischeif will you get into in the warm summer sun?
*Coming Soon* - Summer Solstice Carnival
Travel by portkey to the biggest summer celebration in wizard society - The Summer Solstice Carnival! There will be food, games, prizes, fun and more!
Post by Dorian Michael Humbert on Jun 22, 2018 22:58:20 GMT -8
The paperwork was supposed to have been completed before he arrived, but something had gone amiss in the delivery. He was hunting a dark wizard on foreign soil, and without the okay from the Egyptian government, what Dorian had to do may have been tantamount to terrorism. Dorian was nothing if not a fan of organized civil service, though at this moment it was impeding on an eight-month long investigation. Delaying it, at the very least.
Dorian was a fan of the Egyptian ministry’s service and order. He spoke a little Arabic, enough to understand the chatter on the streets and to gather intel from passersby who might have seen or heard something, but there was a reason all of the official documents were supposed to have been sent ahead of him. He wasn’t fluent enough for the bureaucracy that was dealing with the Egyptian Ministry of Magic. At least they were welcoming enough to have found him a translator with relative speed, though this detour had severely delayed his plans. By the time Dorian arrived at the drop point, the target was gone.
The sun was beginning to set. Dorian had spent the last several hours picking up the trail, thanks to some muggles who worked in the area and had reported suspicious happenings to the muggle police. They had a tap on the muggle communications, thanks to the wizarding government here, and after putting together the pieces and filling in the rest with good old fashioned detective work, Agent Humbert found himself leaning against a bar, surveying the crowd in the nightclub his intel had led him to. The bartender approached and asked what he was drinking. “Rob roy,” Dorian said with a nod, though he had little intention of imbibing. He was working and it wouldn’t do to drink on the job, but he needed a cover and he couldn’t be the only wizard in the place not holding a glass or bottle of some sort. Dressed in more casual fare than he was used to, Dorian cut an image of an unwittingly handsome foreign traveler.
Skies are blue, and the dreams you dare to dream, really do come true.
T
rouble. It followed Christine like a wanton mistress after a familiar lover, and too often Christine responded with a boldness incongruous of her tender years. She was only seventeen - technically an adult in her home country, but still a student, and forever a baby to her family. Her large, powerful, overprotective, testosterone-filled family, who would be horrified at Christine's current predicament.
Christine spared another glance in the mirror - her stomach doing flips over her reflection and her upcoming performance.
Her eyes were heavily kohled but the lower half of her face was covered by a sheer red fabric decorated with delicate beadwork. A large jeweled pendant rested in the middle of her forehead as part of a headpiece that pinned back her hair, which was left loose in wild curls down Christine's back falling to her waist.
Her breasts were advantageously set in a decorative red top piece that covered little more than a bra, but was designed to lift and support in a captivating fashion.
Her stomach was bare, revealing a flat and slightly toned midriff and again more jewelry and markings had been applied to draw the eye toward her exposed skin.
Her matching "skirt" hung low on her hips. It wasn't so much a full skirt as an assortment of long fabrics that broke in various places revealing Christine's incredibly long legs.
She was beautiful, mysterious, captivating, and terrified.
How did she get here? How would she make it out of this? If only she had listened to her uncle.
Christine made a face at the thought of being sequestered into a convent while her uncle left to do trade. She did not leave Castle Eire or her family to knit or whatever it was she was supposed to do while waiting for her uncle to return. She wanted adventure, she wanted experience, and now she had both in spades.
Be careful what you wish for.
She had easily escaped the "prison" she had been sent to by forging a letter from her uncle and paying a local to impersonate a crew member from her uncle's ship. She just never anticipated that same local making another deal and selling her to the highest bidder. She was Christine Aine Sayre! She was not for sale! But that didn't matter in a foreign country, she was without escort, and temporarily without funds.
She just needed to rely on her wits long enough to get a message to her uncle and get out of this mess, but her wits had landed her here instead. She smoothed the fabric at her hips, here was better than her original destination however - a bedroom - and the role of dancer was infinitely preferable to the role of slave girl.
The door opening without a courtesy knock startled her as the elder woman bustled inside and shoved Christine toward the doorway.
Christine fortunately had a gift for languages and ancient runes (what she had been anticipating exploring when she got herself into this mess) and understood from the heavy accent and short angry commands, that her time had run out.
Her feet refused to move and so it was with little more force that she was shoved onto the center of the dimly lit stage.
The nightclub itself was smoke filled, the aroma sweet, as many of the patrons were smoking a flavored tobacco from a watered pipe, lounging on cushions and indulging in whatever vices were available - as it was an underground nightclub there were many vices for the paying customer. And now these paying customers expected Christine to entertain them.
Part of her was terrified, her heart pounding, the beginning sounds of a drum still to feint to hear over the sound of her blood rushing through her body, but as the talented strings joined the beat Christine's hips began to respond.
She would never laugh at Sam again for teaching her the hypnotizing hip movements she now used to save her life - though at the time it had been rather amusing between the girls as they fell all over one another in peels of laughter.
Sam's advice to dance as though caressing a lover, every movement designed to entice and tease, and above all to dance from the deepest part of your innate sensuality, was no longer amusing - it was sage. Christine - ever the quick learner and full of passion - did not disappoint.
Post by Dorian Michael Humbert on Jun 24, 2018 10:01:31 GMT -8
Bringing his glass to his lips so that it looked as though he was drinking, Dorian’s dark brown eyes scanned the crowd. Tables and booths lined the outer rim of the busy nightclub, with some seated patrons facing away from Dorian’s view. A line of witches and wizards surrounded the bar where Dorian had positioned himself, but the crowd was closing in as they all moved to get a better spot at flagging down the bartenders. He needed a better vantage point.
Taking his untouched drink with him, Dorian moved away from the bar, his space quickly being taken over by a pair of locals deep in conversation. Weaving through the crowds, only pausing long enough to politely decline a dance offer from a pretty witch in a blue dress, Dorian made his way to the opposite side of the room. A different angle meant different faces, and this time he saw the one he needed. Ramses was sitting at a table against the back corner of the room, flanked by four large men. As Ramses’ attention was turned to the dancer who had stepped onto the dancefloor, the other men remained focused. Bodyguards.
Passing his drink off to a passing waitress, Dorian again took to the crowds, this time keeping his gaze fixed on the table where the international mobster sat, relaxed and unassuming. Ramses was wanted for all manner of crimes; supplying dark weapons to enemy forces, sex trafficking, murder. For all the bigtime cookie jars Ramses had his hand in, it was almost pathetic that the one line of work that would be his downfall, that led the British and French Ministries straight to him, was drug trafficking. One of his distributers had been apprehended in Calais after a spectacular city-wide chase through Dover. 27 hours later, Dorian had eyes on the target and was finally closing in.
Skies are blue, and the dreams you dare to dream, really do come true.
I
t was almost easy to lose herself in the sensual movements. She closed her eyes and the leering men and raucous conversation began to disappear. Sam hadn't been wrong, there was a slight power trip in knowing your sexuality could control someone, many someones at that, but Christine didn't intend to make this a habit - even if she was having a little fun.
Big finish - she thought as a light sheen of sweat graced her supple frame from all the undulating and swaying she had done. The intensity of the song kicked up a notch and Christine sped her movements up to match. Finally, when it appeared as though her hips were almost vibrating from the speed at which they were moving to match the beat of the drums, the song finished abruptly and Christine stopped dramatically with a definitive pose, though her chest could be seen rising and falling, trying to restore an equilibrium of oxygen to make up for her elevated heartbeat.
Applause filtered through the dark club and brought Christine back to the reality of her situation, her sensual pose was gone a moment later as she once again felt slightly nervous. What now? It was over, or perhaps it was just beginning.
The elderly woman beckoned her back, but more gentle than she had pushed Christine to perform. She was pleased the girl hadn't been lying about being able to dance, and pleased further that Christine had managed to impress a client who now wanted the dancer sent to him.
She was tossed between a handful of women who fixed her makeup and cooled her down before she was taken once more into the main room. This time she had an escort who led her to a table against the back corner of the room. A man sat, flanked by four armed bodyguards. Christine felt a slight frisson of fear tingle down her spine, this was a dangerous man. This was the stupidest thing Christine had ever done in her seventeen years - and that was saying something. She was in over her head big time.
Post by Dorian Michael Humbert on Jul 1, 2018 12:35:37 GMT -8
Dark brown eyes remained focused on Ramses as Dorian weaved through the crowd, coming closer to the end of the mission with every step he took. Moving around the civilian patrons, Dorian closed in, his hand moving casually to his pocket where his wand was waiting. He just needed to get close enough to stun the bodyguards without raising their alarm, that would keep as many people safe as possible. It was dangerous. Dorian knew what Ramses was capable of. In a perfect world, he would have cleared out the entire nightclub but there was no way of capturing this dark wizard if he had any clue the law was nearby. They had already lost him several times over. They had to be stealthy. They had to take the risk. Dorian hated it, but that was the job.
Two women approached Ramses’ table and Dorian’s footsteps halted. The dancer that Ramses had been watching was now standing in front of the man, an older woman having escorted her right up to the criminal. No doubt this was another of Ramses’ sex slaves. Yet another innocent bystander.
Skies are blue, and the dreams you dare to dream, really do come true.
T
here were times in Christine's young life where she was the coolest of cool, calm, collected, logical under pressure, and there were other times when her impulsive nature took over and she completely panicked.
She had been doing good so far, most seventeen year olds when confronted by the same circumstances would be blubbering idiots. Christine not only managed to escape a sexual assault by insisting that she could dance, she had somehow landed a private audience with the man in charge of things. Here she could negotiate with him for her release - she could pay him far more than whatever he could earn off of another slave girl. Though she found the entire affair morally and humanely repugnant she was biting back the bile she felt for the filth in front of her in order to save her life.
Oh he was handsome, dangerously so, but he was ugly inside and Christine knew his type.
Traveling as often as she did, she understood that not everyone followed the same moral code she had. She had been around slavers before, she had even had to tolerate one or two upon occasion while her uncle handled trade - the Sayres never traded with slavers, but they would often be in the same vicinity as reputable businessmen, and were obviously where less reputable business was conducted (the Sayres were not saints).
Yes, that had been the plan - negotiate her release. And it was going well. She was placed on his lap, and had nothing but smiles for the dangerous criminal. He was interested in where she had learned to dance and how a pretty thing like her had ended up here. She kept her identity vague - it was one thing to say she had money and a completely different thing to say she was a Sayre. She was flirtatious, but frank when she offered twice his average profit from one of his girls - an appallingly low amount in Christine's mind since human life didn't have a price tag. She had thought negotiations were going well until he released a hearty laugh and tossed her from his lap onto the floor. Christine reached out for something to steady her fall but only barely grabbed the bottle of liquor Ramses had been pouring his drink from. It shattered on impact as it fell to the ground same as she did, covering her in the pungent aroma. He then stood over her with complete malice as he brought his ringed hand hard against her cheek, knocking the veil she wore askew and revealing her strong features that were shocked at the turn of events.
He spat at her. His voice was low as he blasted her viciously in his native tongue which Christine understood almost fluently. He was completely enraged by the idea that she thought to enter into business negotiations with him - a man. Women were used for two purposes, to beget heirs (male of course), and to sate a man's lust - there wasn't enough money or power in the world to convince him otherwise, and it was the greatest insult to him that Christine would offer to buy her freedom. He was also incredulous that she had such a great fortune - as women were born liars as well.
He stepped over her and shook out his robes instructing one of his guards to pick the girl up and have her beaten for her insolence, but he didn't see the anger or heat building in Christine's eyes that swiftly overtook her surprise or fear.
Yes there were times in Christine's life where she was cool, calm and collected, and then there were times like this.
Her spryness worked to her advantage, once again grabbing for the now broken bottle of liquor, she was on her feet in seconds. Ramses had turned his back on her - never expecting a woman to fight back - but Christine was not about to be led docilely to a beating and she had more than enough experience sparring with her uncles to get the drop on the misogynistic pig.
His body prevented the guards from seeing her at first as she attacked Ramses from behind, jumping on his back and bringing the jagged bottle to his neck. He tumbled forward losing his balance and nearly falling to the ground before regaining his footing. He was suddenly intensely aware of the pain at his jugular as the glass pierced his skin and blood dripped down his skin.
Christine's voice was low at his ear, "Now it's my turn." she hissed indicating that she would be giving the orders, "We're going to get out of here you and me, nice and slow." she said confidently, but then took a look at her surroundings.
Her attack had gained the attention of most of that side of the night club and Christine's heart began to speed up - yes she had Ramses for now, but could she really leave the club dressed as she was holding Ramses at bottle point? The exits were clear across the room, it wouldn't take much for someone to grab her from behind.
Ramses read her fear and hesitation as he came to the same conclusion and rage once again filled him at her insolence. He took full advantage of her hesitation and gripped her arm tightly causing her wrist to weaken and her to call out in pain, she tried to hold on but she was quickly losing power.
Then suddenly, the doors burst open. Light filtered into the room as wands were poised to attack but were also emanating an intense light from the lumos spell blinding patrons. Chaos truly erupted then as the wizards revealed themselves as law enforcement.
In a last ditch effort to take the man down she dug the glass in just as he pulled her arm back. She missed his jugular but the glass had run up his cheek and over his right eye.
He howled in pain and tossed her back throwing her against the wall where she fell to the couch he had just been sitting on.
His immediate thought was revenge, but with the MLE closing in his guards surrounded him to get him out of the building.
"Not without her!"he cried out ordering at least one of his bodyguards to go back for Christine who was dizzy from being tossed back.
Post by Dorian Michael Humbert on Jul 10, 2018 19:26:11 GMT -8
Standing between the two rooms, the large open nightclub where throngs of people moved in a frantic flurry of lust and liquor, and the more intimate room where trained dancer – potentially trafficked women – danced for a few small parties one of which was Ramses and his men, Dorian assessed his options. The dancer had captivated Ramses and she was distracting him enough, but the bodyguards were a separate matter entirely. They were on guard, poised, and looked to be some serious muscle. Dorian knew there was little room for error as he inched further into the room.
He hadn’t expected the dancer to be the hiccough in his plans as she was thrown to the floor and in less then a second had a broken bottle to Ramses’ throat. Dorian rushed in but he wasn’t the only one. Pandemonium erupted in the main room of the club as a team of Egyptian agents rushed into the building, wands blazing. The few occupants of the other tables in the side room came rushing towards Dorian, eager to avoid law enforcement for whatever their part in the numerous illicit affairs they had played. Slammed to the floor in the rush for the exits, Dorian only just spotted Ramses and his men slip through a back exit as he leapt to his feet and steadied his wand in his hand.
“Not without her.” Ramses was practically out of the building when one of his goons swooped down on the woman in red, grabbing her by her hair then her arm. A flash of blue light broke through the room as Dorian sent a stunning spell at the man who had grabbed hold of the dancer. Another blue bolt just barely missed its target as the rest of Ramses’ bodyguards slipped through the door. A second later there was a sharp snapping noise and Dorian’s wand flew from his hand. He spun on his heel, arms raised in the air, as a group of Egyptian Aurors closed in around him. “Agent Dorian Humbert. British Magical Law Enforcement. Permission to reach for my badge?” The Aurors had their wands trained on him, another two agents moving to cuff the stunned body guard. A tall, dark skinned Auror nodded and Dorian reached inside his shirt to remove a gold Auror badge. Their wands lowered instantly.
“Your men just bungled an eight month long international investigation!” The lead Auror and Dorian exchanged words, with the Egyptian Auror demanding their team had jurisdiction over the case. He wanted to scream and curse, but it would have done nothing. Ramses had escaped and now he knew they were after him. He might as well had sent him an owl announcing his arrival in Egypt because this amounted to essentially the same thing. “Did you at least have eyes on the back door?” but it didn’t matter. Ramses had escaped. They would need to start search over again, as Ramses could have apparated almost anywhere by now. They needed new leads. “Miss,” Dorian said a little harsher than he intended as he turned around in the direction of the dancer who had gotten herself in the middle of this affair. She had said something to Ramses to make him angry but perhaps she had heard something useful before then.
Skies are blue, and the dreams you dare to dream, really do come true.
A
fter being tossed, or thrown rather, haphazardly against the wall, Christine was still dizzy. Her vision had gone black upon impact, and a part of her was certain that death - or something worse than death - awaited her once she regained consciousness. Everything happened so fast however, that when her eyes did adjust to the light she was being pulled by her hair and arm for the briefest of moments until the man froze after being hit with a curse.
Several loud arguing voices cut through the haze in Christine's mind and she realized that law enforcement had arrived. She was relieved for all of five minutes. That's how long it took for the aurors to arrest the man behind her, help her to her feet, lead her to a chair, and for her mind to clear. Christine was quick on her feet, all Sayres were, they got out of the stickiest of situations on pure luck, sheer nerve, and brutal cunning. They also had a remarkable talent for disassociation. Later, Christine would feel the effects of the fear she experienced while defending herself from Ramses, but now her adrenaline was still taught and she was trying to figure out how to leave as discreetly as possible.
Law enforcement meant questions. Questions meant asking for her identity. Giving her identity away meant a future with limited traveling once her father found out about all this. Yes, she needed to get out of there.
Luckily no one seemed to be paying her much attention, they were still focused on the other patrons that did not manage to escape. She could make a clean getaway, her eyes intuitively sought out the path of least resistance, but before her feet could follow her escape route she heard him.
"Miss"
She winced.
His tone was brusque, almost angry, but definitely irritated and definitely sent in her direction. She felt her body tense as she turned to meet the owner of the voice that called out to her, and then she couldn't move.
Every part of her body felt locked up and completely loose at the same time. Her stomach curled in on itself and almost ached. Her face was suddenly warm.
He was the most beautiful person Christine had ever laid eyes on. The way the light hit him from behind made him appear even more imposing as though he were the archangel Michael sent from heaven to...well she didn't quite know, but she had a feeling she'd let him do it - whatever it was.
Her mother had told her once that when "the one" came into her life she'd know it. Being a romantic at heart, Christine waited with very little patience for that moment, even tried to force it a time or two, but the boys she had been infatuated with before became romances that quickly fizzled out. When Christine was honest with herself, she knew they weren't the earth shattering experiences her mother had talked about, she had just been restless. This was entirely different. Maybe it was a school girl crush - she doubted she'd be the first to experience it with the man in front of her - but it felt deeper than that as though something in her soul recognized him and was just now awakening.
Realizing he had indeed called for her, and she was just staring at him, she quickly tried to compose herself, "Y-yes...?" she trembled, not recognizing the tone of her own voice.
Post by Dorian Michael Humbert on Jul 18, 2018 21:31:33 GMT -8
Later, when he was alone in his hotel room mentally reviewing the events of the day and scrutinizing every detail and every action, looking at all the numerous things he could have been done differently in order to have Ramses in custody instead of on the loose without any tail from any governmental agency, Dorian would look back on the way this woman stammered an answer to his summons and feel a pang of guilt for the harshness of his tone. As far as he was aware, the failed attempt to arrest Ramses had not been botched by this dancer, and he was snapping at her as if it were her fault. His voice softened as he spoke next, attempting to make the woman more at ease. “Have the medi-wizards had a chance to look at you?” he asked, his chocolate eyes looking down to the scratches in her arms where the broken bottle had cut her. They didn’t look bad, but when interrogating a witness, it was best to have some empathy, and if his suspicions about the origin of this woman’s employment as a dancer were as Dorian suspected, a great deal of empathy would be required. Ramses was known to deal in sex trafficking, that didn’t mean all or even any of the dancers at his club were victims, but it couldn’t be ruled out.
Skies are blue, and the dreams you dare to dream, really do come true.
C
hristine swallowed down the intense attraction she had for the person in front of her and chalked it up to the bizarre and frankly unbelievable few days she'd been having. Schooling her features as she had seen her cousin do a million times, she gave the handsome auror a firm shake of her head.
"It isn't necessary." she stated with more confidence than she felt. Up to that point she hadn't even noticed the scratches on her arms. Her head hurt from being thrust against the wall, but all things considered she was in pretty decent shape - at least physically.
She wouldn't scrutinize the events as closely as Dorian would, but the severity of the situation would catch up to her later when she had a moment to collect her thoughts.
"I-I need to go." she said looking around her. She hadn't meant to say that out loud or give away her intention to flee, but she wasn't working with all her faculties. She did need to leave, before anyone could discover her true identity. She needed to find that low down dirty con artist who sold her and get her things back. She needed her wand and felt naked without it, her costume that bordered on indecent didn't help the feeling.
Her eyes finally landed on the auror once more and widened slightly, "You're English." she stated matter of factly.
His accent had given him away, at once the familiar lilt of his speech soothed her, but the knowledge that he could know of her - her real identity - caused her to tense.
Post by Dorian Michael Humbert on Jul 21, 2018 21:26:11 GMT -8
“You’ve had a blow to the head,” he reminded her, as if his witnessing the event would make him remember any better than she would, having lived it. “You should at least have someone check you over, even if you feel fine. And I’d like to ask you some questions about the incident.” She mentioned that she needed to leave, and he wasn’t going to allow that to happen. Not until he asked all the questions that needed to be asked tonight and gotten her information in case any further discussions needed to take place.
His accent had not gone without notice – a common problem in international detective work, but similarly, Dorian recognized a common accent on her as well. Not common for Cairo, but for the UK. This information only made his concerns about her having been trafficked that much more substantial. “I am. Agent Humbert,” he replied, flashing her his badge. “British Magical Law Enforcement. I just have a few questions for you, miss, then you’ll be free to go. After you've been looked at, of course." Dorian signaled to one of the Egyptian agents that they would require a mediwizard. "This way please," he said, ushering the dancer through the nearly evacuated nightclub where the medic would be waiting outside. If she was trafficked, getting her away from the remaining few employees inside the club would be an important first step, and if she was here of her own volition, then at least getting some fresh air after such an ordeal would be pleasant.
Skies are blue, and the dreams you dare to dream, really do come true.
C
hristine swallowed as Dorian explained who he was. A British auror. Oh God, he probably knew her uncles. This was a disaster. Apollo and Sebastian would be furious with her and with Camulus, then her whole family would know and she would be lucky to leave the castle again before she turned fifty. Not to mention how badly the family would gang up on Camulus, and it wasn't his fault, not really.
She swallowed again at the position she was now in and glanced up at Dorian once more. Or was she swallowing because her mouth was dry due to the attraction she felt? In either case, between his soothing voice or his startling identity, Christine felt her pulse begin to race. She hadn't even been this frazzled mere minutes ago as she danced on the stage!
She followed him numbly, powerless to stop herself from trailing at his side, not that she thought she'd be able to somehow make a run for it either. Dorian wasn't easily fooled and by the kid gloves he was now treating her with, Christine was certain he was prepared for her to bolt like the skittish colt she was acting like. She needed to calm down; she needed to clear her head. Neither would happen around this man.
Once in front of the medic she stiffened as he reached out for her veil. Ramses had knocked it askew earlier, but after being thrown around the veil had fallen against the cut on her face and was now caught as the dry blood attached the flimsy material to her face. She hissed as the medic pulled the fabric back reopening the wound and revealing her sharp features.
At the moment she could only hope that Dorian wasn't too familiar with her uncles and that neither of them had a picture of her on their desks, before he could get a good look at her she tilted her head down and looked away.
"You had questions agent Humbert?" she asked unintentionally as sharp as he had been with her.
Post by Dorian Michael Humbert on Jul 31, 2018 21:17:55 GMT -8
Without incident on their way to see the mediwizard, Dorian was still on guard as the dancer was looked over. He hadn’t even gotten her name yet. In his head he simply referred to her as “the dancer” but of course that would change once her wounds were bandaged and she was checked for any signs of a concussion. The pause gave Dorian time to rein in his emotions over having lost Ramses yet again. He would be a much more soothing interviewer when he next spoke to her.
Keeping a watchful eye over the proceedings, Dorian smiled as the dancer initiated the questioning. He was glad that she would not be attempting to run away from him and the nightclub, as he was worried she would try earlier when she seemed to want to rush off without speaking to him. “Yes,” he replied. “I’m afraid I didn’t ask your name, miss.” Her full name would be required for the report he was going to have to submit, but also it was polite to know who you were speaking with.
Skies are blue, and the dreams you dare to dream, really do come true.
C
hristine hesitated, but it was only for a moment. She decided immediately upon hearing his name and his occupation, that she would need an Alias, and had one readily available.
"Mikaelson, Christine Mikaelson." she answered tersely. She wouldn't give more than he asked and hoped that the interview would be over soon.
The alias wasn't difficult to toss out, she had used it before - at the club, in a pub or two, even with the authorities after a teeny tiny very minor flying violation (though she imagined it was her smile that got her out of that particular incident). Being Christine Sayre, in addition to being quasi-underage (at least at the start her double identity), held certain expectations. Her family had a public image and scandal wasn't good for business. Being Christine Mikaelson gave her freedom to be a normal teenage girl, or a normal twenty-one year old woman.
Post by Dorian Michael Humbert on Jan 22, 2019 21:46:45 GMT -8
Reaching into the interior of his jacket for a hidden breast pocket before remembering that he was not in his usual suit then quickly correcting himself and reaching for his trouser pockets, Dorian retrieved a notebook along with a miniature self-inking quill so that he could take the woman's report. Christine Michaelson - he guessed on the spelling and decided instantly that they could return to that later if need be. He looked up from his notes and met her eyes, or attempted to. She'd turned her head down as the mediwizard tended to the cut on her cheek. "What is you relationship to Mr Ramses?" he asked, trying to gauge from her expressions her gut reactions to his question almost as much, possibly more so, than her actual answers. Not everyone was truthful and there were certain characteristics and mannerisms he'd been trained in reading in order to determine a more authentic truth than what might be presented.