raising_cane (raising_cane) wrote in snark_n_bark, @ 2008-05-04 20:15:00 |
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Entry tags: | complete, lucius |
Not all returns are happy ones
Character: Lucius
Summary: Unexpected happenings are definitely unpleasant
The searing pain in his arm caused Lucius to drop his wineglass, the fine crystal tumbling as though in slow motion, drops of red wine shining in the candlelight before they spattered the cream and blue Aubusson carpet like an obscene spray of blood. The glass landed amidst the carnage with a muffled tinkle, and for a moment Lucius wondered wildly if he actually had managed to cut himself. But no, this pain was a burn, an increasingly familiar one which causing him to yank back the sleeve of his dark green velvet robe and stare at his forearm in disbelief.
"No... it can't be. It can't!" He wasn't certain if it was the pain or a rising tide of hysteria that made him sway on his feet, but he managed to catch himself on the edge of the sofa and hold himself upright. Barely.
"Luc, what in the world is wrong with you?" The pretty young Pureblood he'd picked up in Paris looked up at him in shock, blue eyes wide in his lovely face. In a moment the younger wizard was on his feet, wrapping an arm around Lucius' shoulders in a familiar gesture, one that Lucius would have rejected from a casual lover if it weren't for the fact he was so deeply in shock.
"Nothing... nothing!" he gasped, the shudder which wracked his body as the pain began to fade belying that reassurance. Hastily he lowered his arm so that his sleeve hid the obscene tattoo which had flared to life on his skin. "It's nothing. A twinge. My arm hurts from too much polo, that's all."
"Hmm... yes, that makes sense."
Robere was as stupid as he was attractive, a fact which Lucius blessed for the moment. He wasn't interested in the young man's mind, after all, and at the moment he wasn't interested in him at all. "Go, now... I have things to do."
"What?" Robere stepped back, frowning, but he must have seen something in Lucius' eyes, for he shrugged and moved toward the Floo. "Call me when you get a chance, Luc... you're fun when you're not being all moody."
Lucius didn't even bother to acknowledge the comment, and he didn't glance toward the Floo even when green light flared and the room fell into silence. Instead he lifted his arm again, moving the sleeve aside so that he could examine the newly freshed Dark Mark, the symbol he'd thought gone from his flesh forever. It could mean only one thing, one totally mad and impossible thing, something which made him both furiously angry and horribly, desperately afraid.
"No, not again, damn you," he snapped suddenly, clenching his teeth so hard that his jaw popped. He turned and strode toward the bedroom of his luxurious hotel suite in Brighton, his mind made up. He'd go to Albania, or Russia, or China, or even the horrible frozen waste of the South Pole if he had to, but there was one thing he would definitely not do, and that was serve Voldemort ever again.
Things that died should remain dead. And that went triple for Dark Lords.