vox_the_viper (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} vox_the_viper) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} anon_rpg,@ 2012-06-05 18:34:00 |
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What: Chance meeting
Where: At the Ministry
When: Backdated. June 3rd, Mid-afternoon
Status: Incomplete/Closed
Rating: PG-13ish
Vox was strutting down the Ministry hallway, robes long ago abandoned to the rag pile, and his filthy grey tee-shirt shredded and blood stained at his right shoulder. He could have easily healed the insignificant wound and even mended his clothing; by the time he reached his offices, he'd have to drop the self-pleasure from his movements and paint on a more stoic expression. The large, bloody sword he carried should have been stowed as well, but Vox found no one objected that loudly while he was carrying his sword, and he liked that. He'd come from besting a violent and senile sphinx determined to guard a treasure that, for all Vox could determine, no longer existed. Senile in this case referred only to its confusion, not its ability to lay waste. The fight had been dangerous, a near thing, and the victory had left Vox positively radiant with glee.
Still walking down the hall to his own theme song in his head, Vox almost passed the witch that came out of a nearby doorway before his brain caught up with his eyes. The witch was Hestia Jones, his most recent conquests and the topic of his fantasies. Caught completely off guard, Vox's mouth gaped in stunned displeasure for long seconds. And then his mind exploded with ramification.
He'd never slept with anyone from the office before. It had always been such a blatantly bad idea that he'd managed to abstain. After all, he could hardly take what he wanted from a coworker and then face them with his carefully created mask of humorless competency the next day. Hestia, though, stood before him, and he was completely gobsmacked, completely at a loss. He'd been basically pleasant with her, true, but she had hardly escaped the venture without far greater insight into his desires than he could tolerate being generally known at the Ministry. His first instinct was to kill her in a broom closet.
For some reason, he hid the sword behind his back as he dragged himself ramrod straight and seemed to freeze, like a guilty child. He actually grimaced and scratched the back of his head before speaking.
"You're a witch, then." Unable to suppress the slight growl of frustration, he added, "You're a much better liar than I would have given you credit for."