August 29, 1892 - Vince's Flat, London

Vincent Iago had been surprised, at best, when he’d arrived at his flat one evening to a small, elegantly wrapped parcel. It was not marked and the raven that had brought it in place of an owl looked rather sleek and expensive as it watched him enter with beady black pupils. Vincent eyed the creature sitting just by the open window and wondered how long it had been waiting for him in the dark. He shut the door to the flat with a click and made his way over to it.

A small box was settled just beside the creature, wrapped in black paper with a black ribbon. Vince lifted the thing carefully towards himself. A single, elegantly stamped ‘W’ clung from a tag that the blonde pulled off with curiosity. Turning the parchment over, he saw three little words scribbled there in an unfamiliar hand.

Promises were made.

Wracking his brain for who could possibly have sent the item, and suspicious now of its contents, Vincent set the note aside. He placed the box back on the table, ready to reach for his wand in case something potentially dangerous jumped out at him. The raven was evidently dissatisfied with the action and pecked aggressively at his hand with a screech, catching Vince’s middle finger. Hissing, the obliviator pulled away.

“Blasted bird!" Vince muttered, sticking his finger in his mouth and sucking at the blood there. A cut, that would likely welt, had pooled blood along the inside of his long, dexterous finger. Vince had half a mind to turn the stupid crow into a stew if only the owner was a bit more obvious. (It wouldn’t do to turn, say, the Lestrange’s pet into a dead rat, he supposed, even if the thing deserved it.) With his non-bitten hand, the right, Vince opened the box by waving his wand. Now he had even less trust that this was something he wanted to touch without knowing what it was.

As the lid lifted off with ease and the trappings inside shifted apart, a single ring was exposed. It was plain except for a thin band that ran along the centre in what appeared to be a red gemstone of some kind. It looked very old, and very tempting. Finger still bleeding, Vincent set aside his wand and lifted the thing out of the box to examine it more closely. Who in their right mind had sent him a ring of such exquisite craftsmanship and why? Upon further inspection, he also noticed it had an elegant little inscription on the inside reading: A Bond That Cannot Be Broken. Brow furrowed in absolute confusion, the blonde moved to replace the ring back in its box. He wasn’t expecting it to quiver and burn hot when he did so.

Dropping the ring as it scalded his finger tips, Vincent was a split second too slow to react when the thing shot out of his grasp and onto his left ring finger. It glowed there for a moment, the stone a brilliant red, as the former Slytherin turned his hand over. With a frown, Vince tried to tug the thing off. Big mistake.

It was as if a thousand tiny pinchers had dropped from within the ring and dug into his skin, holding the ring in place. Vince managed to budge it only a fraction of an inch before blood started to pool from beneath. Hissing again, he released the thing and moved to run the abused hand under water in a nearby basin. Seemingly satisfied with this development, the raven took off with a rustle of feathers that was almost eerie in the darkness of the flat. Vincent growled after it, dunking his entire hand into the water basin. Great. Now he had a cursed ring to contend with. His bitten finger had already started to bruise and the water slowly darkened as it intermingled with his blood.

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FYI Beryl Wixeldorf / Cassian Valenduris / Timoleon Maxime & as always, the accompanying muse song

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The following 3 users Like Vincent Iago's post:3 users Like Vincent Iago's post
   Beryl Wixeldorf, Cassian Valenduris, Timoleon Maxime

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i desire very little but the things i do consume me

August 29th, 1892 — Wixeldorf London Estate

It was unusual for Beryl to hear the distinct tap at her window. It was a vexing yet familiar sound. One of her fathers ravens. Sleek, and mindfully watchful as it perched outside her window, awaiting for its entrance to be permitted. Sitting up from her bed, Beryl walked over and opened the latch to her window to allow the ever watching servant to slide in. Her father rarely sent her things. Letters, gifts. These were all things reserved solely for more formal matters. Short instructions as to where her presence was required should he be the one dictating her outside of her mothers endless orchestrations.

“Deimos.” The ravens were identical. A pair her father had owned her whole life, and yet to Beryl it seemed to matter not as her endless fascination with her ghost of her father had made differentiating them childs play since she was a toddler. As the raven hopped down off of the window sill and onto her vanity, Beryl sat down on the edge of her bed as it artfully waltz its way across to her hands. “It’s been quite some time.” She mused to the bird, thin fingers brustling through its sleek midnight feathers. Behind her Binx had taken to wearily pressing into the small of her back. The presence of the informant always frightened him, and as Beryl took to caressing under the raven’s beak, the low hiss of Binx could be heard emanating out from behind her.

Always one to be docile with the child, Deimos gladly took the affection before presenting the small box and note that he’d been tasked with delivering. Beryl was intrigued by the offering. A box? Her birthday was still months away and her Coming Out Ball months prior. How unusual for her father to be sending a gift. Had she forgotten something? No. She was never that daft. Pulling at the black ribbon, Beryl watched as the onyx paper bloomed open to reveal an ornate box. The elegantly stamped tag idly slipped down as well, and Beryl caught it before it landed on the ground. Only a ‘W’ was embossed on one side of it, and when Beryl flipped it over she easily recognized the unique scrawl of her father’s hand.

My daughter, a promise.

A promise? Beryl’s brow furrowed at the note. She hadn’t even gotten the chance to speak to her father since around Christmas of last year. Not even in France when they were within ballrooms at the same time during their nearly month long stay. When had he made a promise to her? She was not one to be forgetful. Setting the note aside, Beryl clicked the box open to see if the contents revealed any clues to what he could be intending to convey to her. Dazzling against the low light of the moon through the window, Beryl lifted the necklace out from within the box. Her father had never bought her jewelry before. Often her couture was brought about from torturous trips out with her mother. So the sight of a heart shaped locket dangling from a chain was more of a surprise to her than Beryl had had in many years.

Rubbing her finger across the locket’s surface, Beryl examined the embedded stone as it glistened. Where one might believe the red gemstone to be ruby, Beryl knew better from relatives gifts that she’d received over the years. Her name sake, a beryl gemstone. Opening the heart locket, Beryl could feel her heart begin to quicken. ‘A Bond That Cannot Be Broken’ was inscribed into the aged trinket. Was the man that had barely acknowledged her her entire life suddenly accepting her as more than a decoration for his image? A smile pulled at Beryl’s features as she lifted the necklace higher so as it dangled from her fingers the light could reflect off of its surface while it swayed in the air.

“Thank you Deimos.” Beryl leaned forward and kissed the raven on his head before standing so that she could properly view herself in her vanity’s mirror. Slipping the necklace over her head, Beryl watched as it glided down her neckline and settled close to her actual heart. Smile widening, a playful twirl in front of the mirror had Beryl feeling overcome with emotion. It looked beautiful on her. That was certain. “Look Binx.” Snatching the black cat off her bed, Beryl barely took notice as father’s raven slunk back out the window, his mission completed and needing to be reported back to his commanding officer. “It fits me quite perfectly don’t you think?” Holding the cat up to her face, Beryl struck a pose with the feline as the pure joy from her father’s attention left her mind with little more to question.

The following 2 users Like Beryl Wixeldorf's post:2 users Like Beryl Wixeldorf's post
   Cassian Valenduris, Vincent Iago

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[Please feel free to slap, throw things at, or even punch Beryl at your leisure! <3]