Hey Maxie, I'm trying to sneak in here quietly. I fear people get tired of seeing me everywhere, and I don't want to intrude, but it broke my heart when you said: So now you know, I am reading, and obviously Jessica is reading also. I think everyone was just trying to give you space so you could study. Hope to read a new post soon! Much love to you.

I'm a reeaaaading still! :glomp:

CONNIE! You are never, EVER an intruder. Iloveyou, and I don't think anyone gets tired of seeing you around. They all love you. <3

Thank you. *shnuggles* I have an update.

YAY! I likey. <333

Eep, it isn't!
Update coming right up!

:loved:

If Mageant Mansion had a history, it was not one that the pages of the noun saw, or would ever see. It was the kind of house that riches built, and riches see wither – hauntingly beautiful, in its final ruin.

It was rumoured that the town it - the mansion - had once affected, with both its glory and power, had fallen prey to an attack of werewolves – an attack that swept, away in the dust that it left behind, not only the civilization of the place, but the lives of the inhabitants of the manner.

Riches can, perhaps, strive to keep death at bay. But, when the final word is said and the final deed executed, they can not, for all their supposed pelf, destroy or even evade it. Money loves to pull, into illusion, those that own it. It loves, too, to ruin the illusions that it can create.

It is always indifferent – it is we, who are not.

But the town, the town had not withered away. It had lived on, inhabited by creatures of the dark and it was the area around the town, that had fallen into decay – the people of it were driven off by fear, by risk and by lack of security. Raids happened, to no avail. In the end, the city had moved away and on, and the town whose centre Mageant mansion was, had become a landmark of evil. Abandoned by all who believed – or liked to think they believed – in the ‘light.’

Voldemort, when he had decided that the Mansion in question would make yet another perfect stronghold, had found it easy to tackle the wolves – he had not driven them off, but driven them to himself. He had the metaphorical fangs of a snake, and a tongue of honey, and he could show both, and show none, simultaneously or when he wanted to.

It had been easy for him, to subdue the wolves into his will. The Mansion was clear of them, now – they were staged at other posts, where he found them more helpful. In the meanwhile, he had many other means to make the town impenetrable.

All this, in a way that none were aware that the evil of the wolves had been taken away, and replaced by a much more cultured, much more barbaric one.

In the dark of the night, Jenna’s milk-white gown trailed down to her feet as she apparated a little spot off from the Mansion and, an invisible shield drawn up not on purpose, but by instinct, neared the sprawling building, that shone like a point of darkness, in the distance.

From the outside, the place still lay in ruins – on the inside, she had seen it more than once, and knew how perfect, how cultured, how cold and icy each item was. Perfect in its make and model, and subtly heartless in its appearance. Only Voldemort could manage to make it so, and she wondered even now, internally fascinated, how that was possible.

Her heart beat faster than usual, partly from nervousness, partly from anger. Nervousness at what lay ahead – though she was, it may be said, not one to care for the future, often. Not ever, in fact, except where certain individuals were concerned – and anger at Varius Lestrange. She was, indeed, more injured by his words than she cared to admit. Indifferent to this – our perhaps as a reaction to it, as a sign of sympathy – the wind picked up, howling and crashing into things, scattering leaves and sending them through the air like flying kisses.

She paused, and glanced skywards. The moon was full, a point of brilliant, silver light. It cascaded down on her, filtered through her silver hair, and fell down her milk-white dress.

“Si,” she whispered. Si –you will understand one day, will you not? There was no other way, I was too fascinated. I do not want to practice this. I want to see his ways. I do not want to see how – for I already know that – I want to see why. Si – you will understand one day, will you not? You will not hate me, will you, Si? There is something either disastrous or vile, in me. It wanted to know why – and now it has other reasons. Reasons it can not escape, because they have nothing to do with the mind. I have fallen apart with what I initially sought, Si – the need to know why and I are barely friends, now. Other factors have come into play. I have no control over them, anymore. I can not be strong, in the face of what makes us strong.

The cheek to not be alert, and to think – when on an errand for him – of a sister opposed to his very actions, would cost her. Jenna ought to have realized this, but the place her twin occupied in her mind and heart, made her overlook the little unsaid detail, perhaps even law.

She gave the broken gate of the mansion a gentle push – it had never been repaired, was still a ruin; and was, as far as her information went, never locked – and let the wind force her into the courtyard. She did not know where she was going, now: her feet seemed to be on auto-pilot, well aware of the path that led to the iron-wrought front doors.

It happened, very suddenly – to her right, a pair of scarlet-tinted, orange eyes gave a sudden glint. Less than half a second later, a scream had ripped out of her throat, and the wind seemed to carry it everywhere, let it magnify, echo and then plummet into a startling, hauntingly indifferent darkness.

oh no...what happend!!!???waiting for more...caught up reading the last two posts after long time...glad to come back and read your posts...Maxie...as always waiting for more...:)

Hello Maxie. So good of you to give us a new chapter. I can't believe it is so scary!!!! It does the same thing to those who don't have it, but thinks they have to have it to be happy. This sounds ominous. She needs to get out of there. Beautiful! But she is in danger. It's a full moon! Maxie, your writing is spectacular! Oh, I was so afraid she would loose the power her hate gave her. Now she is caught up in his 'appeal?' and has no power over what she sees happening. Oh No! My heart is thumping out of my chest! There are things "stationed" here Jenna! She would realize this, if she hadn't been so deep in thought about her sister, and her own admittance that she's lost control over her own will. But, I guess this is what has drawn her here. Time to pass out.

Maxie, what a talent you have! Tremendous post! Best of luck with your many well deserved nominations! Much love to you., and I'll catch you later.
Oh and this: Thaank you Maxie, you are very kind and sweet. I love you too.

Please delete. >_<

Guess! :shifty:

Glad to see you here again, luff. I missed you!

Hope you've enjoyed the updates. <3
It is. =[

Like they say, easier to cry in a BMW. Then again, money can't wipe away anyone's tears, in actual and... and I could go on forever. But I think, ultimately, love and belief are always the most important.

Clever of ze Connie to notice! =O

Exactly. Ily. <3

Thank you SO much. You make me feel like a writer, Connie. You're too sweet. <3 Iloveyou. <3


:loved:

I have.

... and thank you. I'm glad people are still reading.

:loved:

AHHHH! I wanna know what happened soooo bad! I love it Maxie!

She could be dreaming.

Thanks, luff! =D

Thank you! :]

Yes, he's more than clever - he's a logician, and a cold-blooded one at that. He isn't afraid, which helps.

Exactly. If an average Joe or Jane went there, they would actually be relieved to know that there are no more active wolves, or dark creatures there, now. But his evil is, like you say, far worse.

I'll let you be that, for a while. =p

Guess! xD

Aww, you did. I'm glad you guys are still reading.
-cling'age-

MAXIELUFFYAY!

Sorry I haven't been posting! I'm usually really good on that too. :yes:
I'm catching up on all your stories and I have been reading. ^_^

PAMS! :)

Jess(:

JeshLuffYAY!

Welcome back, babeh. Take your tiiime. ^________^
But I did miss you HEAPS.

Did you miss me, too? xD

:loved: ^_^

He is. But if you consider that more than what we've seen in the books, I would have to disagree. We know he's afraid of Dumbledore. That he's afraid of being mortal, of fire, and so on.

But, yes. There is a point to this story. -coughSHIFTYcough-

:whistle: xD

I'll try to, in a bit. Or early tomorrow, if not right now.

:loved:

“Nicola,” Antonin repeated.

The word might have sounded clumsy, had the person behind it been different, but his intonation gave it a certain class, as if he was attempting, in some very subtle way, to get a feel of the name; and gauge, from the sound, the personality that could lie behind it.

Or perhaps, that did lie behind it.

He looked up, then, with eyes that she found were cold but not indifferent, and gave a smile. It was not hard to tell that it was a rare one – but there was something - something what, she could not have defined in words, but perhaps special - even in that, because it made it all the more valuable, like a diamond in the rough, when finally revealed for what its true worth, is carefully stored and cherished.

“I have not heard that name before, but it is a pleasant one, madame.” If it had been completely dark, the voice could have fooled an expert – there was nothing in his tones to suggest that his eyes were not warm; his voice was - there was no other word for it - charming.

Nicola, forever one to ignore subtleties, forever one who can not read that which is not obvious, would have allowed the intonation to sweep her off her feet, that very instant, had the initial surprise of his ‘entry’ still not been fresh in her mind. She was not a fool, at least not when she had solid facts placed right in front of her, to deal with [she was certainly a fool when she had solid facts placed a little away from her, and did not realize she needed to pick them up, before she could deal with whatever they led to] and, when she spoke, her tones were reserved.

“Not madame, please – Nicola will do.”

He inclined his head. Nicola reflected on the fact that he looked, quite looked, a perfect individual, one with a combination of looks and charm, and further wondered if he was, by any chance, a pureblood. To extend conversation would be a shot in the dark, otherwise; and she had little time to waste. That considered, it was also beginning to get colder. Quite by impulse, she stepped closer to a tree, as if for warmth, and momentarily wrapped her arms around herself.

The action did not escape Antonin’s notice. She did not notice his gaze settle, for less than half a second, on her; and then the same gaze direct itself where, in the near distance, stood the gateway to the grounds that were the Castles’ inherited property of quite a few centuries.

“Perhaps you will care to go in, Nicola?” he asked. His intonation was casual, rather negligent, as was the style he adopted, when he put the question forward. The change would have caused one with a good perception to raise an eyebrow – it only reminded Nicola of the fact that she had come here with the purpose of gaining, one way or the other, entry into the ball. “You must be feeling cold, here. It shall be easy to obtain a wrap, once we are inside.”

Nicola registered, more than any other word, the one “inside.” That must mean, she inferred, that he had invitation, to the Castles’ ball. No wonder, of course – he looked, she affirmed to her own self, a downright gentleman, the kind that only a very fine family can produce --- and she, Nicola Shlyre Miller, ought to know quite well, having so defiantly mingled with the 'good' - or rather, rich - lot, despite the fact that the ‘finer’ they tended to be, the more pronounced [as a general rule] was there dislike of muggle-borns.

That made her decision, of course. It barely mattered, anymore, whether he looked good, or could hold down his food, or even knew how to talk, much less talk well. Or dance. If he was rich enough to guarantee her safe passage into the gardens that were, otherwise, quite beyond her; he was good enough to be momentary company.

It would be easy to get rid of him later on, of course. She did not expect he would pursue her but, should she manage to hold his attention as well as that of someone who preceded him in terms of looks or – more importantly – money, she would kindly excuse herself. He would have no reason, to follow her.

“It will be a pleasure, Antonin,” she said, quite confidently.

“The pleasure is all mine, mademoiselle,” Antonin – he, for whom it was like child’s play to read her face, someone who was more amused, than anything else, by what he perceived went on, in her mind – returned warmly.

He held out an arm, and Nicola hesitated only a moment before taking it.

These two make me want to fall on the ground and die of laughter! Your writing is amazing Maxie! As are your characters and how you portray them..

Nicola makes me think of ditzy blondes.. :whistle:

Awesome job on the new update! Love it!

Gabbeh

Antonin: You won't dare to laugh at me. -eyes-

Me: Err... *locks him up* :P

Thanks a bunch, luff. I'm super glad you likey. <3

Nicola says she's hiighlyy offended. xD

Thanks, Gabberz! <3