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 Elias Ainsley Bulstrode on Apr 28, 2020 18:58:26 GMT -8
Under any other circumstance, a woman would be hard pressed to get Elias to attend the ballet. It simply wasn’t his scene and had he not had an ulterior motive for his presence this evening, he might have fallen asleep out of pure boredom by this point. He was wide awake, however, having been studying the private box on the other side of the dimly lit theatre. There was movement now that the lights had been brought up ever so slightly, signaling intermission, but he could only see one figure in front of the curtain. The others must have left to socialize and handle their affairs. Eli wished he were closer and able to see more clearly what was going on. Lucius had given him loan of the Malfoy’s private box for the evening; the Bulstrodes had the means to have their own theatre box, but they preferred entertainment of a different manner and were not bothered with trying to conform to society’s expectations of the elite as the Malfoys were. Elias had been told that the box opposite the Malfoys’ was paid for by the Sayres, and rumor had it that Elara Sayre would be in attendance tonight. Judging by the slender silhouette that was stood in front of the balcony, the rumors had been correct. It was the perfect opportunity to see how the little minx acted when she did not know anyone was looking. Would she be toying with the emotions of another unwitting target behind her fiance’s back, as she had done with his brother, Rafe? Or perhaps tonight she would play the innocent girlfriend to Lucius’ unlucky cousin. The possibilities were endless and without having much in-depth knowledge of the girl it was hard to tell what to expect this evening. The Sayres did a magnificent job of remaining in the public eye while completely maintaining their privacy. Everyone seemed to know the young Miss Elara Sayre but he’d not been able to gain much useful information about her. She seemed a very shallow witch from what he had been able to ascertain, not uncommon for a witch of her means but rather boring to Elias. If his interests were not piqued by the part she possibly played in his brother's demise, he wouldn't have bothered with her.
Post by Elara Samain Sayre on Apr 28, 2020 22:42:21 GMT -8
[googlefont="La Belle Aurore"][googlefont="Old Standard TT"]
"No one calls you honey when you're sitting on a throne."
She might have been the heiress to one of the most powerful wizarding families in all of Europe, and she might have had more money than half of the wizarding community - at least that's what some barmy article had boasted. But all the money and power in the world couldn't save her - she was damned.
As expected, Lyra's attempt at reconciliation was an utter disaster.
These men simply weren't the forgive and forget type. They turned petty grievances into ruthless battles, no one bent their will, not without blood being drawn and sacrifices being offered. Elara knew that before going to dinner, but she tried to support her friend none the less.
But if she was honest, it was more than that. On some level Elara wanted to do something good, to bring something together instead of tearing everything apart. Maybe if she could mend the rift between Julian and Nik, Elara wouldn't feel so…dirty.
One action couldn't make up for the lifetime of wicked deeds nor could it take away the guilt or shame of the part she played in Rafe's demise. His attack and subsequent unraveling left Elara feeling sticky. Like a dark sludge of shame had washed over and through her and no matter how many charms she used, how many potions she consumed, how skilled she was at being perfect - she could only fool the people around her. She never fooled herself.
She barely convinced Nik - assuming he wasn't just indulging her.
She didn't want to think about him. He was a prat the other night and she had summarily uninvited him as her date that evening. More accurately, she may have insinuated that his childish behavior was unappealing and he needed to clean his act up if he expected to accompany her anywhere. His - quite childish in her mind - response, was a note claiming he was too busy cleaning up his act to accompany her to the theater and didn't want to tarnish her reputation with his childish behavior and that he would be spending a few days in the city. Prat.
If she were honest, she was relieved. She may have even pushed him harder than necessary out of guilt. She needed space from her "fiance" to get things under control. He saw too much. If anyone could see through her façade, it would be Nicolas Malfoy and there were too many difficult questions, too many unprocessed emotions. It was better to bury it all.
So there she was, standing regally at the banister of her family's theatre box, looking every inch the perfect socialite, effortlessly and quite unfairly beautiful in the pale pink evening gown she wore. Her hair was loose around her shoulders and the ink colored waves fell gracefully down her back. Chin high, her eyes roamed over the crush of people mingling during intermission.
The ballet was a social event as much as an artistic one. Powerful elbows rubbed together and the real backroom business deals were all done at the fanciest of affairs. More business would happen tonight with the gentry drinking below, than would ever happen in a board room.
It wasn't so long ago that Elara loved this world - the wealth and power, the heady sensation of being on top - she intended to take her rightful place as queen among them.
Tempted by a better look at the kingdom she coveted, Lara leaned further over the edge of the bannister and was horrifically hypnotized. Not for the first time the façade fell away, the illusion fractured revealing the filth beneath. The lords and ladies in their decorative coattails and swirling skirts were nothing more than perfectly coiffed puppets preening and prancing to a tune of privilege and prejudice. Was this the kingdom she coveted? Was this worth her soul? Rafe's life?
Did she still have a soul? Did she ever have a soul?
She felt the panic washing over her as she scanned the crowd. Was it too late to run? Where would she go? Where could she go where her demons wouldn't follow?
Her breath became shallow.
Her body shifted against the banister and her balance tipped toward the crowd some hundred feet below.
Movement caught at the corner of her eye. Confusion settled in just in time to catch herself against the cold marble.
She released a nervous manic laugh then swallowed, trying to calm her racing heart. She had just enough control to rein in the panic attack as her mind processed the movement that stirred her to reality.
Malfoy.
His box.
She glanced across the large room and swore she saw a figure though she couldn't make out his features. Definitively the hair color indicated it wasn't Lucius. Was it Nik? What the bloody hell was he doing here?
Before she could ponder further or adjust her eye sight, the flickering torchlights dimmed and ignited, signaling the end of intermission. A million souls had surely been bartered within the last fifteen minutes. There were five more minutes until the ballet continued and it would take at least twice that time to make it across to her fiance and demand an explanation.
While it was perfectly acceptable for her to attend alone, it was not perfectly acceptable for them to be seen so obviously apart - especially after the scene the other night at the restaurant. What the hell was he thinking? Was he trying to make a scene or statement? Was he trying to get a rise out of her?
Her mind kicked up a storm of profanities and curses to hurl his way and the ten minute trek was seemingly timeless. Before she knew her own mind, she was standing in the Malfoy box, hands on her hips, voice low and clipped in anger.
"You have some fucking nerve."
Even if Lara hadn't mindlessly set the wards for privacy, the attendant who let her into the box (familiar with her presence at the theater and her association to the Malfoys) had seen the hell and fury of a woman's rage and ensured that the most assuredly impending disturbance would not be noticed by the other patrons.
"Blowing me off an hour before we were set to leave, really? I see my statement about you being a child stands." she sneered, though her voice was strangely glacial and removed.
"And while your letter may have been petty, it was private." she hissed.
She paused and her voice was cool once more, even if there was a hint of danger thinly veiled beneath her words, "You may be acting like a child, but unless your intelligence has suddenly become defective as well, I can only assume you are attempting to make some kind of statement by purposefully sitting separately from your fiance this evening. The hounds ought to lap it up after the ridiculous show you put on last week. This, by the way, is exactly the kind of juvenile bullshit I asked you to refrain from. So would you kindly explain what the fuck you think you're doing?"
By the end of her softly spoken yet threatening tirade she had gravitated just behind the curtain where she could somewhat make out her fiance's shape though the shadows concealed the more definable characteristics of his frame and obscured his face entirely.
Her attention turned then and was was seemingly devoted to the bar cart as she prepared a drink that appeared to be more alcohol than ice as she waited to hear whatever sorry reply Nik thought to come up with.
Post by Elias Ainsley Bulstrode on Apr 29, 2020 19:47:08 GMT -8
The figure disappeared from the private box across the theatre and a few minutes later the house lights dimmed and the curtain began to pull. Elias’ gaze was fixed on the now empty box, expecting that at any moment he would see a sliver of light from the moving curtains as Elara Sayre and whatever unwitting date she held for the evening returned for the second half of the ballet. Stage lights came up and music swelled. Eli could see the dancers moving across the stage in his periphery but his focus remained on the still empty theatre box. Had they opted to forgo the remainder of the show? Were they as unenthused at the idea of ballet as he? Elias began running the numbers in his head now; how long he would stay and wait for them to return before considering the night a bust and skipping out himself. Perhaps he would even take a stroll around the theatre to see if he could spy Miss Sayre and her—
A feminine voice broke the silence behind him. It was low and enraged and growing closer though still behind the curtain that separated the Malfoys’ theatre box from the private foyer. Elias rose from his seat, turning to face the hysterical witch who was demanding an explanation for crimes another man had committed. At the end of her tirade the witch finally appeared from behind the curtain, a swath of light from the foyer illuminating her from behind like a psychotic angel. He could see clearly from his position in the shadows that Elara Sayre had not run off with her fiancée and abandoned the ballet for more invigorating forms of entertainment, but she had come to yell at a fiancée that had apparently left her altogether well before the curtain rose.
She was helping herself to a drink now, apparently so desperately addicted to alcohol that she had failed to notice the man she was whisper-shouting at was not Nicholas Malfoy. An alcoholic socialite… how original. Poor Rafe, to have been so enamored with this utterly basic witch. “Perhaps you have mistaken this for someone else’s seats, Miss. Unless I have forgotten a whole lifetime of memories wherein I proposed and then wronged you with my childishness.”
Post by Elara Samain Sayre on Apr 29, 2020 20:08:48 GMT -8
[googlefont="La Belle Aurore"][googlefont="Old Standard TT"]
"No one calls you honey when you're sitting on a throne."
The glass slipped from her hand carelessly spilling on the cart.
Bollocks.
She spun around immediately, desperately hoping to see Nik's blue heated gaze, but her mouth fell open at the dark look of the incredibly attractive man in front of her who was most assuredly not her fiance. Yet he was but no less familiar to her.
"Elias Bulstrode…"she whispered, still stunned.
Voted this year's most eligible wizard in the UK for the fifth year in a row by Enchanted's subscribers, the man once again couldn't be bothered to schedule an interview.
She had thrown darts at his face many times, thus she was familiar with every angle of his profile - it was decidedly more pleasing in person.
And his presence was far larger in person magnified by the sheer size of him. The Malfoy box was by no means small, but his height and lean frame filled the space and she felt incredibly small in comparison.
A quick glance around the room confirmed that she was indeed in the correct room, but the embarrassment swiftly descended as she recalled her words coolly spoken to the handsome stranger. Her cheeks pinkened slightly.
"Morgana above I apologize." she said with appropriate remorse, "You are most assuredly not my Nicolas."
She shook her head at his words before her eyes lowered lashes fanning against her cheeks, "It is I who have wronged you with my childishness…" she apologized again before awkwardly shuffling on her feet looking for an exit.
Post by Elias Ainsley Bulstrode on Apr 29, 2020 20:39:58 GMT -8
Elias chuckled gently at her sudden and obvious remorse. This was not at all how he was expecting the evening to go, but he would take full advantage of the intriguing situation. He was not one to balk at kismet. “That was awfully strong language to be considered childish,” he retorted. “I’d say more sailor- than child-like.” He moved closer toward her, extending a hand in greeting as if this were all some humorous coincidence and not a ploy in which he had been stalking her – for lack of a more suitable term. “Elias Bulstrode,” he said, introducing himself. He stepped even closer, dark eyes looking down at her. “There is no need to rush off. I would be happy for the company, if you would indulge me. It seems we are both solitary patrons tonight." He chuckled again, as if amused by fate. "Does Nicholas’ fiancée have a name or would you prefer to remain anonymous?”
Post by Elara Samain Sayre on May 1, 2020 19:52:54 GMT -8
[googlefont="La Belle Aurore"][googlefont="Old Standard TT"]
"No one calls you honey when you're sitting on a throne."
She chewed on her inner lip at his chastising or at least she assumed he was chastising her. Mentally she berated herself again for being so careless. She was obviously spoiling for a fight if she hadn't taken the time to confirm her prey before ripping into it.
Her language was strong for a sailor let alone a pureblood princess. There were certain expectations from girls of her breeding and she had dashed through most of them with her thoughtless tirade. Now, she had to wrestle with damage control. Nik may have been accustomed to her icy lacerations, but society certainly wasn't.
Mechanically her brain crafted a plausible apology while her body shifted to the appropriate level of modesty. Her lips parted to apologize when he moved closer to her and all words temporarily left her head.
Merlin he was tall. He was close enough now that she could take his hand in greeting and her neck had to crane back to meet his eyes which were dark and with the dim lighting in the box almost gave him a sinister look.
Her hand twitched to go to his in greeting and for the third time that evening the size disparity struck her as his large masculine hand positively dwarfed her small delicate fingers.
Then he spoke and the sinister appearance vanished leaving something far more dangerous in Elara's opinion. Charm.
An altogether different warning bell went off in her head. It would hardly be the first time an assignation occurred in a private box at the theater, and she supposed a female stumbling in ranting about their errant fiancé was as much an invitation as any other high society affair, but she had made an honest mistake - she wasn't about to make a purposeful one. No matter how truly beautiful the man was. Most Eligible Bachelor indeed.
"No. I couldn't. I've uhm…already spoiled your evening." she said lightly gesturing to the forgotten ballet behind the curtain. Her inclination to move to the door once more when he asked her name, but then she paused. An evening with Most Eligible himself... did she dare?
"As I have so rudely made a fool of myself I suppose anonymity would be the wisest action." she laughed and seemed to relax.
Post by Elias Ainsley Bulstrode on May 3, 2020 21:29:03 GMT -8
Did this wallflower act work on men? It must have, on lesser men at least, or else why would such a seasoned seductress use such an obvious tactic? Elias pondered the sort of men that would find this cowardice attractive, immediately thinking of his brother. Rafe would have found this self-deprecating display charming, luring the naïve lad into thinking this dangerous beauty was an innocent girl who would care for him the way he seemingly cared for her. It was a disgusting thought, that someone would look at his little brother and see only a plaything to toy with. But Eli was not his brother and he did not find this display attractive in the slightest. Allowing her to turn down his offer without at least a second attempt, though, would do a disservice to the fates that had thrown Elias’ primary suspect into his lap so early into his investigation. He nodded sullenly. “Actually, I was growing rather tired of the show, if I were to be honest.” And for this point, at least, he was being truthful. “This interruption, while wholly unexpected, was very much welcomed. And besides,” his eyes turned toward the bar cart where her fallen glass had spilled liquid that was beginning to drip over the edge of the counter, “You’ve already started a drink. The least I could do would be to allow you to finish a proper one.” If she rebuked his attempt a second time, Elias wouldn’t push the matter for risk of exposing himself, so he turned up the charm with a handsome smile that had nearly always worked on women in the past. “I promise I won’t inquire as to your identity, if that would help put you at ease.”
Post by Elara Samain Sayre on May 11, 2020 21:20:02 GMT -8
[googlefont="La Belle Aurore"][googlefont="Old Standard TT"]
"No one calls you honey when you're sitting on a throne."
She gave a mild frown at his abrupt dismissal of the ballet below, affronted on their behalf before she recalled her own rudeness as he pointed out the spilled drink behind her. She turned quickly to face the mess she had caused and lifted her wand to clean it, but also giving herself time to think outside of his immediate view - a noble effort spoiled by the mirror that hovered just in front of her. In response, her lashes fanned her cheek as her eyes lowered to the task of resetting the bar ware mindlessly.
He was fighting far too hard for her to stay and while he may not have cared for the masterpiece below, he should have - at the very least - been affronted by being so rudely interrupted. She chastised herself internally again. She was slipping.
She needed sleep. Real sleep, not a drought of peace and two shots of Girouard Moonshine.
She was not a hostile fishwife. She rarely, if ever, took her frustration out on Nik, in fact he would be so lucky to elicit such emotion. She relied on her ability to shut her emotions down. To keep her mask in place. But lately she had been slipping and to her relief and horror no one noticed.
Maybe that had been her purpose striding into the Malfoy box and throwing the world's most apathetic yet icy tantrum. Maybe Nik's behavior the other night and his blowing her off tonight cut her unexpectedly. He was the one person who was supposed to see that she wasn't okay. He was supposed to be there with her tonight. Like a crutch. Like a safety net. He always had been. But now he wasn't.
She was losing him. And he hadn't even noticed that she was losing herself. He couldn't see the girl from the façade. If he couldn't see it, could anyone? Would anyone ever really see her?
As if in answer, her eyes met Elias' in the mirror. He was watching her. He was looking at her or looking for something. And with far too devastating a smile, she was sure he was accustomed to getting whatever it was he was wanted.
And now he wanted her to stay.
And it was stupid, but Elara didn't want to be alone.
"Sayre." she said only a little distracted, her hands moving with more confidence and speed. "My name…" she clarified before turning and extending a glass with two fingers worth of Ogden's finest and out to her new acquaintance as a different kind of apology "…is Elara Sayre."
Post by Elias Ainsley Bulstrode on May 17, 2020 20:52:40 GMT -8
The witch turned toward his gesture and looked as if she’d completely forgotten about the mess she had caused on the bar cart. She was emotional and perhaps all too used to having someone come along behind her and clean up her messes, be them literal or figurative. What mess had she created that ended with his brother dead? Elias was still uncertain as to who had actually done the deed, Elara or one of her cohorts, but Eli was growing more and more certain of this witch’s involvement in Rafe’s death. Eli made no motion to help her tidy up, he simply watched her features shift in the mirror on the back wall, his devilishly handsome smile remaining firmly in place.
Her next moves were not unexpected in the slightest.
Elias extended his arm and took the olive branch she was offering; a most delicious branch if there ever was one. “It is lovely, and quite entertaining, to make your acquaintance, Miss Sayre,” he spoke as if learning of her name firsthand in that very moment. It was, almost literally, the only thing he actually knew of the woman before this chance meeting, but perhaps he would glean a little more soon enough. “Please, sit. They’re about to…” he turned and glanced at the stage below, the performance continuing uninterrupted, “I don’t know, probably more spinning or something.” His voice let known his disinterest with the ballet, despite having some small iota of hope that it wouldn’t be a terrible backdrop to his evening’s plans.
Post by Elara Samain Sayre on Oct 6, 2020 21:40:29 GMT -8
[googlefont="La Belle Aurore"][googlefont="Old Standard TT"]
"No one calls you honey when you're sitting on a throne."
Elara gave one last idle thought toward the potential pros and cons of staying before muttering a spell under her breath to set the bar to rights and moving toward her new host. She should have left to go set things to right with her fiancé, but some invisible force pulled her toward the man they said was handsome as sin.
His blasé comment regarding her beloved spectacle was somehow endearing and offensive at the same time. Her nose wrinkled uncharacteristically, "I believe I understand how you came to be in the Malfoy box this evening - give my regards to Lucius - but I am at a loss as to why you seem to be torturing yourself through the …spinning as you say."
There was a slight twitch to her lips and amusement laced her words. He made no effort to conceal his distaste for the ballet, so naturally she was curious as to his reason for being there - if only she knew.
Post by Elias Ainsley Bulstrode on Oct 9, 2020 12:30:24 GMT -8
It was not an unexpected question she posed, and in fact Elias was finding this witch a little too predictable. Poor Rafe, entangled so easily by a pretty eyes and a nice set of tits. Without hesitation, Eli answered her query with an unenthusiastic roll of his eyes. "It is my mother playing the torturer this evening, not myself." He looked out over the crowd below, dark eyes unfixed as if remembering a conversation that most definitely had not occurred. His mum gave two shits about his social calendar, as long as he made time for her and kept his nose relatively clean. She knew that in his line of work he wasn't likely to be a saint, but as long as he wasn't Lucifer himself, she was happy. "She walks the line between begging and demanding quite skillfully, that woman, and she's got it in her head that I ought to appreciate the theatre more. Apparently my lack of admiration for all the spinning," he remarked, his hand gesturing flippantly toward the stage below as his gaze turned toward the dancers, "is deterring all the right sort of witches."
Post by Elara Samain Sayre on Jan 5, 2022 21:25:25 GMT -8
[googlefont="La Belle Aurore"][googlefont="Old Standard TT"]
"No one calls you honey when you're sitting on a throne."
Elara snickered unconsciously, as if Wizarding Brittain's most eligible bachelor had any difficulty whatsoever attracting any sort of witch he wanted. The man barely needed to crook a finger before britches began to fall and it didn't take a consummate con artist like Sam to know the man could charm the panties off Artemis herself.
Standing before him she fully understood the fuss, even if she herself, would never fall for such a pretty face. They were similar creatures in that way and she almost felt sympathy for the poor little rich boy with the world at his feet. He likely had woes she knew nothing about, but their station demanded a sort of expectation in life and neither of them were immune to societies' expectations.
Elara's musings brought her back to her earlier embarrassment and she flushed again, "Ah yes, the right sort of witches. Sure to be found gathering at such an elegant affair speaking in soft dulcet tones."
At least the stick wasn't so far up her arse she couldn't laugh at herself in this way now or at their society in general as she joined him in gazing at the scene below, though her eyes fell on their peers rather than the dancers. What a world they lived in.
Post by Elias Ainsley Bulstrode on Jan 5, 2022 22:33:19 GMT -8
Elias chuckled softly at Elara's little joke. He hadn't expected her to have any sort of sense of humor, which had caught him off guard. "Those sorts, indeed," he said, returning to the charade. "And yet, here I find myself with a sailor-mouthed vixen who shows no qualms with bursting into someone else's private box and making a scene." His eyes turned from the dancers to the woman sitting beside him. "Perhaps I ought to heed my mother's advice more often. I was certain the night would be dull and uneventful." His gaze returned to the show below. "I am rather pleased to have been proven wrong."
Post by Elara Samain Sayre on Jan 6, 2022 0:13:28 GMT -8
[googlefont="La Belle Aurore"][googlefont="Old Standard TT"]
"No one calls you honey when you're sitting on a throne."
Elara smiled. Genuinely, which meant there was a hint of mischief in it. Nik once teased her that, while no one could even begin to suspect what a foul-mouthed imp societies' most precious darling could be, the holy fury that came alive as she unleashed curse after curse in the most fluent of tones sometimes in multiple languages, was nothing short of arousingly terrifying. Elias' similar approval of her "sailor-mouthed vixen" ways also made her feel inordinately pleased.
She rarely allowed herself to let loose or cave to her emotions and passions, and she certainly never would have revealed such honesty or vulnerability to a man like Elias Bulstrode, one of her more esteemable peers, but his approval of her hit its mark. No doubt he probably always hit his mark no matter what his aim was.
It was Lyra's fault. A few years ago she probably would have had the stick too far up her arse to laugh at herself. Lyra brought a lot of laughter to Sam's life. That laughter had once been bright and meant everything to Sam and it still did, but the cost had been so heavy and unexpected. And now, now Sam was spiraling under the surface, one brash decision away from telling society to go hang.
Maybe that explained the bizarre honesty in Elara's next words.
"Something tells me you aren't often wrong though, so I think it's only cursory delight." she teased with a smile that lived on the cusp of sinful and paused before continuing with more conviction and only the barest hint of flattery "You're rarely ever wrong about things or people."
Her tone shifted again as her eyes grew a little distant looking at the act before her, both the ballet and society's finest, "I'm not sure anyone in our circles can afford to be wrong about things or people."
Later she might have been disconcerted at how at ease she was in removing at least one layer of her mask in front of him but for now, she needed someone to see her. She had every intention of that person being Nik. Sweet, safe, wonderful - being a remarkable pain in the arse right now, but still ultimately loyal to a fault - Nik. It was supposed to be Nik in the private box. He was supposed to be behind the curtain. But he wasn't.
And one day they'd realize that was the twist of fate that led to their inevitable end.
She was falling apart in front of the wrong man and she couldn't be brassed to care.
Post by Elias Ainsley Bulstrode on Jan 6, 2022 16:15:01 GMT -8
She spoke of him as if she knew him, which would send Eli into a spiraling rabbit hole of conspiracy plots later this evening when he was alone. Perhaps she was speaking of him more metaphorically than literally, but Elias did pride himself on his unmatched ability to read people. It was what made him so good in the court room, and what drove him to push for a new investigator on Rafe's case. He knew something wasn't adding up with the Sayre girl's story, and he'd be hellbent on discovering the truth for however long it took. Rafe wasn't perfect, by any means, but Elias loved him as a big brother should and his unexpected death left an emptiness in Eli's heart.
Elara mused poetically about their social circles and Eli raised an eyebrow, his gaze still focused toward the dancers below even as he studied what he could of the witch's body language and expression from his periphery. "Such a macabre outlook from someone so young. I would offer to show you the benefits of poor judgement, but as you are engaged to my friend's cousin, I do believe that might appear improper." He muttered, "shame" under his breath loud enough to be heard by the woman sitting next to him though appearing not to be intended for her ear. Elias wasn't certain of what he suspected Elara of, just yet, but he was positive she was keeping something from the investigators and reporters about what had happened and who had been involved. Just as she had admitted, Elias was rarely wrong about people.