- Messages
- 472
- OOC First Name
- linda
- Wand
- the dead don't need wands
The moon shone high in the night sky, barely a star visible which she found strange but not as strange as the news she had discovered. Goia had returned the week before telling her about her new manageress at the Leaky being pregnant. At first Thorine had wanted nothing more than to scream blue bloody murder and taken care of her but the blood lust had eventually waned and she pardoned the girl instead. Isabella Ormonde would never know just how close she came to dying that night. It was hard to find a decent worker these days and business had doubled if not tripled since she had started there, they would work something out concerning the care of the baby but keeping her new manageress was paramount. Especially now as she would be out of circulation again for another few months.
Pacing the floor of the gallery she listened to the whisperings of her ancestors.
'Are you sure?' 'This is most fortuitous' 'Another! So soon'
Her grandfathers reaction had been to remove himself from his portrait for well over two hours now, Thorine might have been apprehensive at another time in her life but not now. She felt surged, filled with a renewed vigor she had not experienced in a long time. Knowing that she had been so utterly exhausted in her first trimester with Christian and Vixen, she wondered at this one. Why was this child different? Why was she not exhausted or craving strange foods? All she seemed to want to do is torture, maim, kill and relish the moment. Her hands went instinctively to her stomach, caressing her womb. Would Arnost be allowed return to her when Asparuh discovered that he was no better than his brother, that he too had fathered a child with her.
Her eyes gleamed in the dim light of the moon shining in the window, a movement behind her letting her know her grandfather had finally returned.
"This is your third child, your third pureblood child. I am... proud. Though both the last two men are as old as I am, that I am not so proud of".
Thorine swung around and glared at him.
"Antonin Dolohov, you are my grandfather and my childrens great-grandfather but I am the matriarch of this family. I am the head. I will not stand to be critized any longer by a portrait. Remember your place old man, a portrait can be burned."
with a sneer marking her beautiful features she strode out of the gallery removing her wands from her gown as she apparated into the night, hell bent on damnation of any soul she could get her hands on.
Pacing the floor of the gallery she listened to the whisperings of her ancestors.
'Are you sure?' 'This is most fortuitous' 'Another! So soon'
Her grandfathers reaction had been to remove himself from his portrait for well over two hours now, Thorine might have been apprehensive at another time in her life but not now. She felt surged, filled with a renewed vigor she had not experienced in a long time. Knowing that she had been so utterly exhausted in her first trimester with Christian and Vixen, she wondered at this one. Why was this child different? Why was she not exhausted or craving strange foods? All she seemed to want to do is torture, maim, kill and relish the moment. Her hands went instinctively to her stomach, caressing her womb. Would Arnost be allowed return to her when Asparuh discovered that he was no better than his brother, that he too had fathered a child with her.
Her eyes gleamed in the dim light of the moon shining in the window, a movement behind her letting her know her grandfather had finally returned.
"This is your third child, your third pureblood child. I am... proud. Though both the last two men are as old as I am, that I am not so proud of".
Thorine swung around and glared at him.
"Antonin Dolohov, you are my grandfather and my childrens great-grandfather but I am the matriarch of this family. I am the head. I will not stand to be critized any longer by a portrait. Remember your place old man, a portrait can be burned."
with a sneer marking her beautiful features she strode out of the gallery removing her wands from her gown as she apparated into the night, hell bent on damnation of any soul she could get her hands on.