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Through a Glass, Darkly
Unrestrained Desires
Why is the wife always the last to know? I really must try to read The Prophet more regularly...
( Private to my Husband )
( Private to my Husband )
The Prophet is such interesting fiction it's a wonder the bookstores can keep their doors open.
( Private to my husband )
( Private to my husband )
(This thread is linked here)
The party had been a grand affair, even by Pureblood Malfoy standards. Millicent was entirely delighted with the evening so far, and most anxious to rejoin her fellow like-minded Purebloods as they decided on their next diabolical move. She had memorized the way here, in this very secluded and private spot, knowing that she might have use of the path again. She had been impressed with the space, and took a few mental notes of things she might like to add to the private area of the cellar at Morsus Mansion. One could never have too much fun close at hand.
"That Weasley person made an arse out of himself as the Lord of Misrule. We'll be able to lay any deed we wish at his door should there ever come an inquiry regarding actions from this evening." Millicent was always concerned with the safety of her own skin - first, foremost and always. Montague, too, of course, as it would reflect badly on her and her appeal if he were to be found conducting himself in a manner that...well, that he preferred. Her identity was known to most everyone standing around their unfortunate "guest" this evening, and yet she still wore her mask with the glamour in place underneath, not completely trusting the Imperious Curse Mrs. Lestrange's escort had inflicted until she determined for herself that this lesser of the species could not identify her.
"What shall we have him do?" She intoned sardonically as she walked closer to him, using one gloved hand to tap one of her spare wands against her other gloved palm. Beneath the fabric, her palms were itching to inflict pain, it was merely a matter of how much and how soon.
The party had been a grand affair, even by Pureblood Malfoy standards. Millicent was entirely delighted with the evening so far, and most anxious to rejoin her fellow like-minded Purebloods as they decided on their next diabolical move. She had memorized the way here, in this very secluded and private spot, knowing that she might have use of the path again. She had been impressed with the space, and took a few mental notes of things she might like to add to the private area of the cellar at Morsus Mansion. One could never have too much fun close at hand.
"That Weasley person made an arse out of himself as the Lord of Misrule. We'll be able to lay any deed we wish at his door should there ever come an inquiry regarding actions from this evening." Millicent was always concerned with the safety of her own skin - first, foremost and always. Montague, too, of course, as it would reflect badly on her and her appeal if he were to be found conducting himself in a manner that...well, that he preferred. Her identity was known to most everyone standing around their unfortunate "guest" this evening, and yet she still wore her mask with the glamour in place underneath, not completely trusting the Imperious Curse Mrs. Lestrange's escort had inflicted until she determined for herself that this lesser of the species could not identify her.
"What shall we have him do?" She intoned sardonically as she walked closer to him, using one gloved hand to tap one of her spare wands against her other gloved palm. Beneath the fabric, her palms were itching to inflict pain, it was merely a matter of how much and how soon.
Current Music: Monteverdi - Lamento d'Arianna
Current Music: Monteverdi L'Incoronazione di Poppeo
Knightsbridge beckons.