Evelyn Mulciber (bestdefense) wrote in disorderic, @ 2018-05-30 20:07:00 |
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Entry tags: | evelyn mulciber, jasper williamson |
WHO: Jasper Williamson & Evelyn Mulciber
WHAT: Interrogation
WHEN: Tonight
WHERE: Interrogation Room
WARNINGS: Some references to past violence
Though she had waived the right to have an attorney present (because really, what was even the point?), Evelyn Mulciber was not feeling particularly cooperative. Some minutes into the interrogation, and she was still giving rote and monosyllabic answers, all the while staring icily at the newly-reinstated Auror who was surely trying his best. "I don't recall that incident," she said. Jasper was down to his third coffee of the evening and highly doubted he was going to last the shift without at least another. Evelyn Mulciber was being a right old hag even as he mercilessly confronted her with photograph after photograph of victims from the last year alone. Obviously his current tactic wasn't working, so he took the opportunity to step out of his chair and stretch his legs. Massaging the knot in his left shoulder, Jasper kept his eyes fixed on the Death Eater. "We could have you tested for dementia. It won't help you defence, but you'd at least be locked up in a ward with other batshit crazy old people losing their minds." He paused, hoping that the idea of losing herself would be scarier than the idea of being locked up for the rest of her life. "Just you… alone in a locked room… No papers to read, no one to talk to; just potions to take, and a chamber pot to piss and shit in, while everything that made you you slowly slips away. No one'll remember you. No one'll give a fuck. You won't have a legacy to talk about, won't be able to appreciate some dumb twit's fangirling over how great you were, how powerful you were. They'll just know you as a sad, drooling mess who doesn't recall." Evelyn's expression didn't change. Her eyes stayed trained on him with every movement he made. "It's cute that you think you can scare me," she said. If Jasper was disappointed, he held back and didn’t let it show. “Just painting a picture of your future.” He returned to his chair and pulled out another photograph from his files and slid it across to her. “Do you recall leading her to her death?” he asked, indicating the photo. It was callous, but — he gave no more fucks. “Because I’m quite happy to chat all about that until you give me what I want, Evelyn.” Evelyn glanced down with a feigned disinterest at the photo. Whoever 'she' was, she was surely just another obstacle in the Dark Lord's path, and Evelyn felt no guilt for those necessary deaths— But the sight of familiar, messy blonde hair and the sharper features—never quite as pretty as her sisters—pulled Evelyn out of her icy standoffishness. She didn't speak, but she didn't look back at the Auror, either. Her eyes stayed on Victoria, and though she should have known this was coming, she wasn't prepared. She never saw the body after the battle. She didn't even really know what happened. She drew in a long breath and her lips tightened into a thin line. Jasper could tell he was close, but not over the line yet. He left the photo of Vic where is was, pulling back the rest. “Sucks not knowing how it happened, who to blame, doesn’t it?” he said after a long moment of silence. “I lost someone in the last war. Celestina Dalca. She was a Hitwitch on patrol and somehow ended up dead 10 feet away from the Dark Mark some jerk cast over their first victim. Didn’t even bother noting they killed her. Vic’ll have it worse, doubt they’ll give her a marked grave, honestly.” The smallest twitch of recognition crossed Evelyn's face when he said the woman's name, but it was only a moment and gone. "Of course they'll mark her grave," Evelyn insisted, scoffing to cover her own concern. “Sure about that? She’s a dead terrorist.” Evelyn considered for a moment. There was never a doubt it was too late for her, but Victoria had never believed the way Evelyn did. And that, at least, could create a sliver of doubt; a small gift she could give to the daughter she could neither truly convert nor save, to release her of a burden she never wanted in the first place. "Surely they'll take some pity on those who were … induced to go along against their own judgement." His ears pricked at this. "Induced how?" Evelyn grew cagey again, even feigned nervousness. "I don't recall the incident." "You don't recall, even about your own daughter?" The Death Eater cleared her throat, then met the Auror's eye. "She was obstinate." "Yeah, well, apple don't fall far from the tree," he said, then waited for her to continue. "Yes, it did," Evelyn said sadly. "Victoria never wanted this. No matter how I tried to teach her, mould her into something she wasn't. I suppose she's the one who should have been disappointed." "Give me something I can work with, and maybe I'll see what I can do with the media release," Jasper offered. “What exactly do you want to know?” Evelyn’s tone went icy again. “Secret meeting places? Historical records? We didn’t have exactly keep minutes at the meetings.” Her eyes met Jasper’s. “Or maybe something a little more personal? About that hitwitch in Godric’s Hollow, maybe?” He knew at this point he should probably pull back, have another Auror talk to her, but Jasper was never one to make the most emotionally mature decision. His eyes narrowed. "What hitwitch?" he asked, struggling with acting like she hadn't just struck a nerve. “The one you mentioned earlier, dear. You did say you lost her,” Evelyn said breezily. There it was -- the answer he'd spent two decades looking for, casually given like it didn’t matter at all. He stared at her, like the wind had just been kicked out of his chest. “You.” “I remember her. It was just a bit of bad luck, really,” Evelyn continued. “If someone else had responded, or she’d been just a few minutes later, she might still be with you.” She gave the Auror a small smirk. “It wasn’t personal.” Lip curling, Jasper thrust the parchment and quill towards her; he needed to get out of here. He needed to step back, let someone else take over. He needed — to breathe. “Write down your confession. Now.” “Take these photos out of here,” Evelyn insisted. She didn’t touch the quill. "After." “I’m not writing a word until you take them,” Evelyn said. “And I believe you said something about a media release.” Jasper reluctantly picked up the photographs, conveniently leaving the smiling picture of Victoria behind. "A full confession, naming all your victims and the details of their deaths. Sweeten it with unmasking more Death Eaters for us," he replied, knowing full well he was unlikely to follow through on his promise of a media release favourable to the Mulcibers. Unless Betty wanted to print that their old schoolmate had been coerced into terrorism. Evelyn stared at Victoria’s photo, then cleared her throat. “You can’t possibly expect me to remember all of them.” “Write,” Jasper snapped. She made a show of picking up the quill and writing. Her lettering was slow and pristine, taking her time with every detail as she let the quill scratch against the parchment. ‘It wasn’t personal,’ she’d said so casually; like it could have been anyone, like his mother had just been in the wrong place, at the wrong time, her death a meaningless blip in the circle of life. With each painfully slow quill-stroke, Jasper felt the rage swell in his gut — he wanted to reach across the table, slap her, curse her, something. He stood suddenly — — slamming the door behind him, pausing at the wall just outside the door to the interrogation room. He breathed short, shallow breaths, trying to quell his rage. He had an answer to the question that had driven him for years now. Evelyn Mulciber killed his mother. Evelyn Mulciber ripped her away from him, from Amethyst, from Octavian. Evelyn Mulciber left his father lonely, desperate for affection, left a hole so deep he’d fill it with anyone willing to tell him they loved him, like Zabini. Evelyn Mulciber was going to live, the rest of her days, never tortured by the unknown. He straightened. The answer, and the charges, had to be enough. He’d done his job. And now he had another. |