rodolphus lestrange is living true crime. (actualised) wrote in disorderic, @ 2018-01-06 21:12:00 |
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Entry tags: | nora cadwallader, rhys cadwallader, rodolphus lestrange |
WHO: Nora and Rhys Cadwallader & Rodolphus Lestrange
WHAT: Having some fun with new friends
WHERE: The Gentle Green B&B
WHEN: Saturday 6th January, all day
WARNINGS: Well. You know.
Rodolphus awoke early and found himself unable to go out with his horses. Of course he wasn’t able to, but it aggrieved him for a moment before he remembered his plan for the days activities. The list which he would go through slow and methodically would cheer him up. He knew it. It would do quite the opposite for the Cadwalladers, but that was rather the highlight of it. He looked at himself in the mirror after he got ready and smiled. It was going to be a good day. When he went down for breakfast, he deliberately waited until he saw the two of them before entering the room. “Good morning,” he greeted. “Did you sleep well? No nightmares, I hope.” Rhys, looking as though he hadn’t slept at all, eyed him suspiciously from his seat at the breakfast table. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?” he asked warily, though he didn’t particularly care about the answer. “Oh, of course,” Rodolphus said, straightening his cutlery with a pointed movement. “I was reminiscing on old times before I fell asleep. It was quite peaceful. I did rather miss the horses this morning, though.” He cast a look at Rhys and said, voice cooler, “You don’t strike me as someone who horseback rides.” Rhys grimaced slightly, not touching his own cutlery. He folded his hands instead. “I’ve done it in the past, but that’s not really something I’m capable of doing any more,” he said, slightly terse. Fighting against every impulse he had, he faked a smile. “I hope your horses are having a peaceful morning as well, though I suspect they’ll be missing you.” Nora cleared her throat as she crossed the room to stand beside her husband's chair. She gestured pointedly toward the far wall where a breakfast bar sat, nicely displayed. "We have a full oatmeal bar this morning with plenty of fixings, fresh fruit, and muffins or toast available. Please help yourself," she insisted, trying to create even the smallest distance she could between the two men. Rodolphus tilted his head and smiled at Nora. “Of course. I’ll be sure to see such gracious hosts later today. Perhaps we can all go for a nice stroll.” The only other guests in the dining room, who'd hurried to finish eating at Rodolphus's entrance, shot the Cadwalladers sympathetic glances as they left the three of them alone with the breakfast array. Nora squeezed her husband's shoulder, a little reassurance, perhaps, but nothing that would put off the inevitable. "Perhaps. It may be a little cold today," she said. “I’ll see you later,” Rodolphus repeated, ignoring most of what Nora said, and made his way towards the muffins. They looked tolerable. It was more than he’d expected. “See you later,” Rhys said quickly. He looked to Nora, hurrying to get up out of his chair in order to get as far away from Rodolphus as possible. “Nora love, can you help me with something in the garden out back? I could use your expertise.” Nora wasn't really reading, of course. As she and Rhys sat in the Green's unusually quiet common room (the other guests, afraid of a surprise run-in with Lestrange, had all either left early or consigned themselves to their charmed and relatively safe rooms), her eyes scanned over the same few lines again and again. She fretted for their long-term guests, whom they couldn't even check on in person without fear of raising suspicion. (Albi insisted they were scared but fine, and well-fed). She worried that maybe they should tell more people after all, but the fear that this would only escalate matters put this off. She feared for Rhys's well-being, both physical but especially emotional, and the toll Lestrange's presence was taking on him. (She'd followed Rhys like a shadow since the man arrived; not letting him out of her sight during the long and sleepless night.) And now they were trying to act normal, reading near the fireplace as if nothing could be bothering them as they felt like hostages in their own home, dreading whatever came next. The hush that had fallen over the B&B was thrilling, Rodolphus thought, as he made his way through the house. Every time someone caught sight of him, they nearly always ducked their head. No one seemed to want to chat, so he made them, when he could that morning before they’d squirreled themselves away or he’d smiled at them and it had almost the same effect. It amused him, but he wasn’t looking for them, and they’d gone into hiding anyway. He was looking for the Cadwalladers. He found them in the common room. Pulling his gloves up, he looked at them and said, “Good day, again. I’d like to go walking.” His look was very significant. “Be sure to wear a hat!” Nora said, feigning ignorance as if that might somehow make him change his mind and leave them alone that much longer. “It’s a bit chilly out.” Rodolphus nodded, once, and then thanked her before he took his wand out. He let the moment sit for longer than he probably should have before he accioed hats, which flew across the room into his hand. “I believe one of these is probably yours.” Rhys set down the book that he hadn’t been reading, giving Nora a weary look before replying, “Oh no, you’re our guest. You can use any hat you like.” “I have my own,” Rodolphus said, cheerfully. His tone was considerably sterner and he kept his hand on his wand as he said, “Perhaps you should pick yours. Keep your ears warm.” Most of the colour appeared to drain from Rhys’ face as he pictured Rodolphus taking one of them out back to re-enact the ending of Old Yeller. He shut his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath before announcing quietly, “I’ll go.” He reached for his crutches, knowing he was the last person who should have volunteered to give anyone a walking tour, but not wanting to leave Nora alone with him either. His wand was in his pocket, but he didn’t dare reach for it. "We'll go," Nora insisted quietly, rising faster than her husband could and taking a warm wool hat from the man's hand. "Have you picked out a path from the map?" “Yes,” Rodolphus said, turning away from them and walking to the door. “I have. I’ll let you know which one when we’re near it. You can tell me as we walk about what you’ve made of your lives here. I do love peoples stories.” Once outside, Nora started the story before Rhys got the chance. She didn't like giving this part of their lives up to Lestrange, even if it was generally public knowledge if anyone wanted it, but she was ever conscious of the man's wand and what it could do, what it had already done. "We took over after Rhys's aunt retired a little over a year ago," she said, omitting any reference to why they'd made such a strange career jump; everyone already knew, anyway. "We've kept things mostly the same as we've been able. There is a lot of tradition and history in this place." Perhaps those words, key as they were to so much Death Eater rhetoric, would soften him, even a little bit. As they walked, she positioned herself, when she could, between the two men. Both towered over her, so she couldn't do much to block one's view of the other, but it was still something. "Last week, Mari Lwyd came for a visit. Have you ever taken part in one of those celebrations? I know you like horses…" “No,” Rodolphus said, squinting at the two of them. It was cold enough that it brought colour to his cheeks and Rodolphus enjoyed it. He walked slightly slower than usual, taking more time. He didn’t want Rhys to feel like he was goading him until he was, more properly. “I believe the Welsh traditions are so quaint. Skeletal horses! It’s adorable.” “Adorable,” Rhys said, resisting the urge to wrinkle his nose at Rodolphus’ condescension. Even slow as it was, he had to focus on trying to keep up, though he tried not to show it. He could only hope that the Death Eater grew bored of this and cut their walk short. Not really wanting to talk about Wales or how they had gotten here, he attempted to change the subject. “How was your Christmas? Do you have any fun family traditions?” “Oh yes,” Rodolphus said, nodding. He made sure to look at both the Cadwalladers as he said, “After we had the turkey, we went for our annual muggle killing! It was delightful. Just the right screams.” The horrified expressions on both Cadwalladers' faces was probably exactly what Lestrange wanted. Nora honestly couldn't tell if he were telling the truth or simply trying to scare them (as if he needed to try any harder). After a moment, she found her voice again. "How festive." “It was,” Rodolphus agreed, tone merry. “We put some tinsel on them afterwards. I love tinsel. What festive traditions did you get up to?” Rhys choked out a strained, “We put little Santa hats on the puffskeins.” “It was adorable,” Nora added, almost defiantly. “How nice,” Rodolphus said, picking his way carefully over some particularly boggy ground. It had rained a lot. “I had a Christmas blanket on the horses. That was adorable, too.” The bite of the air was undeniable and Rodolphus lifted his face into it, judging where they were in relation to the map he’d studied. “I’d like to walk up there,” he said, with a sharp nod. “But I need a guide.” He paused and looked at the Cadwalladers. The choice was very clear. Nora’s eyes traveled up the familiar path with a growing dread. The steep grade, the rocky terrain, the ‘Difficult’ rating—Lestrange chose a path he knew Rhys couldn’t possibly take. With so much of Nora’s energy focused on keeping Rhys safe, and the inn and its inhabitants safe, it somehow hasn’t quite clicked with her how much danger she, individually, was in. (It should have, of course—if Lestrange’s goal was to mess with Rhys, she was his best target. She tried not to let her imagination run away with her. It wasn’t easy.) “Oh,” was all she managed. Rhys looked at her helplessly; his expression was one of dread. Before he could stop himself, he’d turned to Rodolphus and quietly pleaded, “Please no. I—I’ll try. I know this place. I’ll try.” He knew he couldn’t possibly make the trek, but he was desperate. Who knew what kind of horrible plans Rodolphus might have had for her? He did not want to get Nora killed just because Rodolphus wanted to see him suffer. Nora turned to Rhys, even as it meant turning her back on Lestrange. It broke her heart to see him like this. This trek would hurt him, where it only might hurt her, and that was a risk she chose to take. She put her hand on his chest and kept her voice low; even though the Death Eater could hear them, Nora's words were just for her husband. "Rhys," she said gently, "You can't. It's okay. It'll be okay." She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. She wasn't sure she would ever get another chance. As she turned back to face Lestrange, an idea struck her. She pulled out her phone as if to check the weather and, hitting a couple of buttons, said, "We should get going, if we're going. It's going to start raining again in about an hour." Behind her, she could hear the gentle buzz of Rhys's phone in his pocket and willed him to figure out what she was trying to do. She muted the speaker but not the mic and put the phone in the pocket of her coat closest to Lestrange; it could pick up some of their conversation that way. At least then, if something happened, Rhys would know. Rodolphus prided himself on his patience as he waited for the Cadwallader’s to finish their theatrical goodbye and he didn’t even look at his watch once. Instead, he looked out at the horizon, at the trees that stretched towards the grey clouds, their branches clawing at it. There were bare and almost ominous he thought, swaying gently in the breeze. He smiled at them. “Of course,” he said to Nora and then, because he couldn’t help it, he said, “I’m sure we’ll probably see you soon, Mr Cadwallader.” He started to walk, taking long strides, separating them as quickly as possible from Rhys until he had faded away, obscured by the landscape. “You can stop panicking,” he said, after a long silence. “I’m not panicking,” came Nora’s stubborn, not quite honest reply. She looked back over her shoulder, but Rhys was well out of sight by then. She struggled to keep pace with the taller man’s stride. “I just don’t understand what you want.” “I only wanted to go for a walk,” he said, mildly, as the wind seemed to increase. They were slightly further up now — it only made sense. “Perhaps I’ll leave some kind of souvenir up here to prove I’ve been.” The chill that ran through Nora's spine wasn't caused by the wind. "You could go for a walk anywhere." “Oh, but where’s the joy if it’s not shared with such good company?” Rodolphus asked, quirking an eyebrow up. “Is this not invigorating?” "Terribly invigorating," Nora said, not really bothering to hide her sarcasm. Her foot found a rock that wobbled in the mud and left her slipping until she threw her arms up for balance. What was one more little heart attack at a time like this? Rodolphus reached out, grabbing onto Nora’s arm. “You know,” he said, “in Ireland, they continually find bodies buried in bogs and under mud that are very, very old. I think they’re easily covered over when conditions are bad, don’t you?” He started to walk. “Do be careful.” It took all of Nora's effort not to recoil and pull her arm away, and her quiet "Thank you," was almost muffled in the movement of her coat. She didn't speak for a few moments as they walked, until she remembered that Rhys might be listening and probably fretting, and she would have to continue to make conversation—especially when the last thing he would have heard was about bog-covered bodies lost to the ages. How did one make casual conversation with a Death Eater? "I am careful," she said finally. "We've both been careful. We follow all the rules and we do everything right." So why are you here? “Do you really think so?” Rodolphus asked, with a sidelong look. Of course, he didn’t think the Cadwallader’s were particularly noteworthy for any of their recent behaviour, but it wouldn’t do to admit that to them. He thought it would be more fun to keep them guessing. “I wouldn’t be so sure.” Nora's breath caught. It could be blamed on the steepening path, perhaps, because he didn't know, right? He couldn't know. If he knew, they would be on their way to Azkaban, or worse … Or at least, he would've made some unsubtle reference to their extra guests. Wouldn't he? Or maybe he was still just toying with them and biding his time. "Okay…" she said slowly, blowing out a breath she didn't mean to hold. "Then...what else do we need to do? What else do you want?" Rodolphus shrugged, brushing off the question easily. He’d no intentions of answering it or of providing either of the Cadwalladers with any easy way out. That wasn’t his particular brand of game. “I’d like to go back now,” he said, “and reacquaint myself with your charming home. You’ll find all the answers later, I’m sure.” The abrupt shift was unexpected, but hardly unwelcome. Nora blinked a couple of times in surprise, and after a hesitant "Alright," she turned around to head back down. She didn't want to trek ahead and turn her back on him, so she waited, awkwardly, for him to start. "I—I hope you enjoyed your walk." “It was adequate,” Rodolphus said, with a shrug. “I’ve never cared much for Wales. It smells rather like sheep.” He was grinning as he walked back, but conversation ebbed, as he considered his next move. He found himself walking ahead of Nora on the way back, more familiar with the route, his legs longer than hers and eating the ground faster. By the time they crested the horizon, he was ahead of her by a good amount and Rhys was essentially where they’d left him. Rodolphus raised his hand in a wave. Rhys, having been stuck at the bottom of the hill listening to this entire encounter as best he could, greeted the sight of a solo Rodolphus not with a wave, but by clutching his chest, looking as though he was currently experiencing the latest in a series of mild heart attacks. Rodolphus frowned and looked at his hand. He hadn’t cast anything. “Are you quite all right, Mr Cadwallader?” “Wh-wh-where’s Nora?” Rhys managed, his voice scarcely more than a peep. Nora walked as quickly as she safely could back down the path, but gave up on trying to keep pace almost immediately. When she finally made it back, she was only a few moments behind the Death Eater but could see by the look on Rhys’s face that it was too long. “Rhys?” she said, alarmed as she pushed toward him. “Are you okay?” Rhys nearly collapsed with relief. “Oh, thank Merlin,” he sighed, trying to calm his fluttering heart. He staggered a few clumsy steps forward before stumbling over a jutting rock in an attempt to get to her. “Ouch! Son of a—are you okay?” he asked. He paused and took a deep breath before adding, as though it pained him, “Did you both have an okay time?” Nora closed the distance between them as she tried to catch Rhys to keep him from wobbling or falling. Safely reunited, she spared a glance for Rodolphus. “It was adequate.” Rodolphus stared down at the scrabble board, his head tilted to one side. He’d entreated the Cadwalladers to play a game with him, taking it as a victory that their protests were, really, minimal and easily ignored. Rodolphus loved ignoring people disagreeing with his ideas. It was for this reason he was so delighted as he played the word vexed. He grinned across the board. “Would you look at that?” he said, shaking his head. “Not a word we could use to describe this evening, I’m sure.” Rhys used what little energy he had to feign what little smile he could muster. “Not at all,” he said dryly, without much emotion one way or the other. “Great word.” He looked down at his own letters, knowing he could have annihilated the scoreboard by hooking zyzzyva onto that v. With considerable bitterness, however, he restrained himself. Destroying a Death Eater at Scrabble wasn’t worth whatever would come after. Frowning, he put the y down next to the e. Ye. “I’m not very good at this game, I suppose.” Rhys lied. Nora gave Rhys a sidelong glance as she wrote down his score. Rhys loved Scrabble. One more thing Lestrange was going out of his way to ruin, she supposed. She sighed and filled in off of his word, adding a few letters to spell out YELPS. "Your turn, Mr Lestrange." Rodolphus stared at the board for a moment and then at his letters. He had some for several short, boring words, some he could have filled out. Nothing that would properly showcase what he wanted it to. He sighed and cupped his chin in his hand and then, a thought struck him. He placed several tiles on the board. SPINAL. Rhys blinked at it and said nothing, though he visibly shuddered. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Okay,” he said finally, thoroughly uncomfortable. He put an a next to the l. La. Anything to get this over and done with. Nora, on the other hand, just looked angry. She marked down scores with forceful strokes of her pencil, then played tiles of her own higher up on the board: BORED. Well. She couldn't help what letters she had. His grin sharp as a knife, a vivid attack of an expression, Rodolphus flicked his gaze at Nora and then back to Rhys. His wand had been sitting by his leg. He eased it out and tapped it against the underside of the table, underneath where his tiles sat. They changed and he reached forward, hooking the word INJURY into SPINAL’s eye. He sat back and his grin was sharper, still, more violent. “Well, would you look at that?” Rhys did look at it. He inhaled sharply and held it, trying to retain what little composure he still had, but it was nearly impossible. Rodolphus knew exactly what he was doing, and there was nothing Rhys or Nora or anyone else could do to stop it. Rhys shut his eyes, feeling just as helpless, hopeless, and humiliated as he had on the night that the Death Eater had ruined his life. He couldn’t bring himself to do much more than mutter, “I can’t do anything.” as he used his turn to swap out his letters rather than touching anything on the board. Nora quietly fumed. She glared at Rodolphus, her anger overwhelming her fear. "Stop it." “I win, then,” Rodolphus said, with a decisive nod. “How wonderful.” As Albi struggled behind them with the man's belongings, Nora tersely presented Lestrange his paperwork. "Please sign there," she said as she offered him a quill. She added, with the tone of someone who deeply hoped he did not enjoy his stay, "I hope you enjoyed your stay." “Every moment was better than the last,” Rodolphus informed Nora as he took the quill from her grasp. He contemplated the dotted line and laid the quill against it, but did not sign yet. “I can tell it was a thrill for both of you. I do so appreciate your hospitality. Perhaps I’ll be back.” Rhys watched the quill with growing impatience as he tried to formulate a response. “Never a dull moment,” he said, with forced geniality. “If you had a nice time, please feel free to leave us a review on Welp.” “Oh, of course,” Rodolphus said, signing his name. “I’ll be unbelievably effusive in my comment on the Welps.” He had no idea what they were talking about. And somehow, even that sounded like a threat. Nora curled her fingers into a fist to keep herself from saying anything she shouldn't. They were so close. He was at the door, ready to leave. "I'm sure your horses will be glad to see you," she said, finally. “They always are,” Rodolphus said, with another grin. “Thank you for the kind welcome, Mr and Mrs Cadwallader. Do try and take care.” Rhys watched him go, half-expecting him to turn around and set the place on fire. Thankfully, he did not. It was only once the Death Eater had gone that he was finally able to breathe. He reached for Nora’s hand, his own fingers still trembling. |