Charles Warrington (cau_warrington) wrote in causatum_rpg, @ 2008-03-11 22:09:00 |
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Entry tags: | & london, & out of country, * march 1999, charles warrington, verity o'shea, ~ complete |
RP: A Perfect Knight
Date: 11 March 1999
Characters: Charles Warrington, Verity O'Shea
Location: London and Paris
Private/Public: Private
Rating: PG
Warnings: none for now
Summary: Warrington is taking Verity out for her birthday (yes it's a date, though he won't come out and say it).
The gall had come up rather unexpectedly; never before had he attempted to do something in league to destroy a friendship, particularly with his old Captain; and a date- whether it was verbally being spoken as or not- was a surefire way to ruin such a thing. Yet, he could not seem to find it within him to care. After all, from the moment of birth a deeply ingrained ambition to overcome, to rise above the Montague's, inparticular the heir, the rival to his own throne, if one would. And in this case, Westley Montague.
Of course, one must always do such things in secret, in subtleties and untraceable ploys. It was the way of a Warrington and a Slytherin. Sure, Westley was a friend, a teammate, a fellow pureblood- but above all, he was an adversary; and the worst treason Chuck Warrington could commit was to not find some way to shine above his housemate.
Verity O'Shea was one of those things that would prove his worth above Montague; and when his friend had shot her to the lost twigs of a broom, it was a waiting game... one he was sure to win. So when the opportunity of her twenty-first birthday arose, Chuck could do nothing but seize the chance.
His appearance was immaculate. Pressed, tailored, French robes; a perfect dark forest green that complimented his complexion, and a undone just a clasp dress shirt of deep maroon reflected to the color, though at the moment it was difficult to see, the thick, neatly tied plaid scarf was around his neck, keeping in the much needed warmth for the London air. Lifting up his sleeve, he looked down at his watch, and gave a half smile, the other hand in his pocket tracing the line of a box nestled in the fabric; five to five, raising his gaze, Warrington looked back at the Leaky and out to muggle London, he would be glad to get out of the filth.