Chance vs. Fate

[Bonnie Blackmoore]

Bonnie was having an extremely pleasant evening before the following occurred to ruin her day. She had been shopping in the afternoon and was buying up on clothes for Artemis overseas. Then it had been on to a bar and a nice light pasta meal in an Autumn evening. Bonnie had to admit, some company would have been much welcome since the bar was mostly filled with male patrons; loud male patrons. If only she had asked some of her girlfriends out with her. She sincerely regretted not doing so, now that she was almost crushed against the bar by sweaty bodies that she had the misfortune to get stuck between. The more private sanctuary of the more elegant tables where she had sat seemed very far away.

Then a good shove dislodged her from the pile up and Bonnie fell forward, still clutching her glass of butterbeer in one hand. She came down on it hard and it smashed between her fingers, peppering the floor with shards and blood speckles from her cut hand. She let out a sharp gasp and stumbled to her feet. Where on earth was the utter b*stard who had pushed her like that? Bonnie had fallen out of the group and was sure the man in a green plaid shirt was the culprit, but he had meandered away in amongst the group of men so quickly that Bonnie was sure it had been deliberate. Now there was no sign of him and she was bleeding like a stuck pig. She held the hand to her chest and began searching her pockets. Now where was her handkerchief? Bonnie was hopeless at healing spells; in her desperation, she moved to seek out a sane human being. It was strange that she happened to choose the tall, handsome man in the back of the bar where her original table had been. She hadn't paid attention to him in the slightest before; maybe it was simply because he stood out. Bonnie padded up in her tiny shoes and hesitantly interrupted him.

"Excuse me, sir?" said Bonnie, sweeping her hair from her face with her good hand while the other bled onto her white blouse. "Ye wouldn't perhaps have a handkerchief on 'ye? I was pushed 'ye see, and..." she held up her small hand with a shrug. Then something knocked into her back, and Bonnie turned her head. Him! "Oh flummox me, that's the b*stard!" she hissed to herself, removing her wand. In an instant her face had gone from pale and shocked to pure malicious intent. Aiming her wand between the man's legs as he passed, Bonnie sent a well-shot stinging jinx at him. It hit straight and true. There was a loud howl and the Checkered-Shirt Man began clutching at his nether regions and stumbling towards the rest room where his friends followed in drunken bewilderment. Extremely satisfied, she turned back and her face fell to mild distress again. Oh, this was her nice top.

 

[Arnost Zhefarovich]

Things were never going to return to normal in Arnost’s life. Thorine was dead, he wasn’t able to raise Vixen yet, and he couldn’t seem to get this rage out of his chest no matter how many fell at his hands. Arnost could not satisfy that hunger deep within that Thorine could have easily done with her presence. Things would never be the same again. Arnost had retreated to a bar, and sat down at a table where it was next to the window. He did not wish to associate with his family, or with anyone really. It was much too soon. He had been everywhere, even Carrow Hall, before he had returned home. Of course, he attended the get together where he received the newest family title, but Arnost knew that would not last too long anyway. Not with the way he had been acting.

There seemed to be a chaotic event occurring in the bar, but Arnost paid no mind to it. His eyes were focused on the sky, all the killing flashing before his eyes. So many people had to die, just because of this wrath that Arnost had. He couldn’t take out the Auror that killed her. He didn’t know who it was. He couldn’t just kill every Auror in the New Zealand Ministry. Not only would that be improbable, but knowing him, it would end up with an orphan Dolohov. He would not put Vixen’s life accountable for his own foolish actions. Arnost heard a voice directed at him, and slowly, he inclined his head to the woman, his black eyes meeting with hers. His eyes went to her hand, and he did not show any emotion. Instead, his hand went into his black robes, and he conjured up a black handkerchief. But after Arnost had pulled it out, it seemed that the woman was attacking another man. Arnost could not help but chuckle low in his chest. “That was rather cruel. Would you still like this to wrap around your hand?” Arnost spoke softly, ice decorating his Bulgarian accented voice.

 

[Bonnie Blackmoore]

Bonnie went very pink at the blonde man's dark gaze, especially when he mentioned that her actions had been cruel. Perhaps she had been rather harsh ... No, that was complete bollocks. The drunken loudmouth had deserved every inch of the spell she had sent, and good riddance to him. She'd scar for a time now! "Why I -" said Bonnie, taken aback. "Well I suppose it was, but he should have thought twice about pushing a lady. I don't have much of a hand as it is!" she exclaimed as she held it out before taking his handkerchief gratefully. She compared their hands inwardly; Bonnie noticed with a jolt that his hand was almost twice the size of hers. Slightly intimidated by this but used to people being significantly larger than her (though not to her niece's extent), she sat herself down next him without another care. He was rather a formidable fellow, Bonnie thought to herself. Lots of people could be tall and have foreign accents, but she'd never heard a voice carry such a tone like that. She wondered what on earth she could have said to cause it, then reprimanding herself for the self-blame. Of course she'd done nothing wrong; after all, he'd 'laughed' to himself. Then he must simply sound like that naturally. Oh dear, thought Bonnie. How uncomfortable it must be to sound so frightening.

"I'm Bonnie." she said, tying the cloth around her hand in a neat little bow. She pronounced her name 'Bonneh' in her thick English accent, and spoke decisively as if she didn't give a fig whether he wanted to know or not. "Might I ask the name of the gentleman who's been such a nice bloke and given me this handkerchief, here?" she said brightly, tilting her head and smiling at him. Her red hair, done in sweet curls on this night, drifted to the side and revealed her pointed ears.

 

[Arnost Zhefarovich]

Arnost could not help but notice the strangeness from the hand sizes. Well, she took the handkerchief at any cost, and Arnost was about to look back out the window but the beauty spoke. Arnost kept his cold eyes upon her, noticing just how beautiful she appeared with a touch of…could that be a touch of feistiness? Well, she had tortured a man’s nether regions. “I suppose he did deserve such punishment for shoving a maiden.” Arnost’s voice was rather crisp and cold, still. It showed that it was not about to change either. That was just a quality he had. Arnost didn’t move but he did tense up quite a bit when she sat down next to him without inquiry. She really was a feisty one. Arnost admired that, but she wasn’t a Thorine. No one could compare to her… Arnost forced Thorine out of his head. She was dead. There was nothing he could do about it.

Bonnie was her name, but Arnost took note of her not giving her last name. It would be best if he had done the same. He did not ask for her name, but he wouldn’t care to know it either. It just meant that either Arnost astounded her or she was just really friendly. Either way, it could turn into a rather interesting evening. “Arnost,” answered the Death Eater with a touch of a smirk upon his lips. The smile she gave was rather intriguing. Could this woman have a single drop of what other’s in the family referred to as ‘darkness’ within her? It was possible. Some were able to turn the brightest beings into ruthless killers. All it took was a little push. And a lot of talking. Arnost didn’t have that much effort. The one he loved was already evil. He was lucky; well, at the time. “What brings a person like you to a place like this?” Arnost’s black eyes glanced at her pointed ears and he thought, What the hell? She…has inhuman blood in her. Goblin? Huh… Arnost wouldn’t mind exploring into this one.

 

[Bonnie Blackmoore]

"Shopping!" answered Bonnie cheerfully, taking careful note of the man's name. Arnost. Huh. she thought. Now that's something you don't hear every day. At the same time she wished she had asked what his surname was as well, but she doubted that she would have recognised it anyway. It was probably some foreign name. In some ways Bonnie thought that she might have done well to recognise it regardless; someone like him would surely have made his place in the world. Thinking back on what she had said, Bonnie pursed her lips and furrowed her brows. "But the real answer to that would be 'I have no idea.' This is no place place for a lass like me," she said, her eyes lifting and giving him a mischievous look. "There's not much around this town. I must have just drifted in with the wind." Another patron opened the thick doors of the bar and let in a long gust of snow and ice. Instantly her skin prickled and she shivered visibly. I say, it cuts right through me! she lamented inwardly as she clutched her injured hand. That's what came from being so fine framed.

Bonnie regarded Arnost out of the corner of her eye as they sat in a brief silence. He was giving her the willies right enough, but it was a lot better then sitting with the smelly folk singing raucous songs some ways down the bar. In truth, all she wanted was a bit of intelligent company who wouldn't squeeze her backside on the way past. She wrinkled her nose. "Ye not here with someone else?" she asked suddenly, frowning and glancing around as if looking for his companion/s. No one seemed to know Arnost, at any rate. If no one else came to join them then she planned to stay here for a while yet. "Lonely nights need company," she said vaguely as she smiled, quoting her mother.

 

[Arnost Zhefarovich]

Arnost was still curious as to how this woman came to be in this place. Shopping? He doubted that, and no humor crossed his features. Nothing like that would bring even a mock snicker out of him. Sure, he was not as serious as Asparuh, but he wasn’t always taking things to a light heart either. There were times when he looked and acted just like Asparuh and things were just creepier. But there was something Asparuh held over Arnost, and that was the lack of love. Arnost could, but Asparuh could not. To Arnost, Asparuh was missing out on the power it could hold. The partnership, the blood, the intimate nights, everything was so darkly wonderful. If only Asparuh could experience it. Arnost smirked a bit when Bonnie said the real answer. “Ah, I see,” responded Arnost. “I too seemed to have drifted into here, more or less like a shadow rather than like wind.”

He could not help but notice when she shuddered at the snow and wind or whatever enter the pub. Arnost was used to harsh weather, and it did not phase him. The brief silence was pleasant. It gave him time to think about what he wanted, and why he didn’t just walk away from this woman. There was something keeping him there. The tightness and rage in his chest seemed to have subsided for now. Perhaps it saw potential in this woman. Who knows. “If you are cold, then I would offer my robes, but…” Arnost gazed her body in a decent manner. “I fear you would get lost in them. As for your previous question, no I am not here with anyone. I am simply traveling.” This was just a resting point. A drunkard let out a holler and Arnost rolled his black as night eyes. Arnost glared at the man, and with wandless magic and murmuring, “Silencio,” under his breath, the man was silenced. “If you wish for company, one that isn’t like those morons over there, I would suggest dwelling in my presence. However, if things get out of control, I will find myself leaving and seeking a more quiet proximity.”

 

[Bonnie Blackmoore]

Bonnie was pleased to note that he didn't have any company with him that night; she could keep him all to herself. However, she did not think this in a possessive or selfish manner. It was simply more comfortable to her to stay in the presence of one person rather than have to integrate herself amongst more. Despite her fearless manner, Bonnie was exceedingly displeased with large groups of people. Frightened, even. As she may well be, since by her stance she could be lost among a crowd. She thought Arnost very kind for offering his robes, but she had to agree with his sentiments. Bonnie would disappear beneath the rich folds of fabric.
"Oh, not to worry," she said, getting an innovative flash of inspiration. She took the moment where Arnost was busy silencing one of the hoons at the bar to unwrap her hand from its makeshift bandage. The blood had long since congealed and the cut was no longer bleeding and so, taking out her wand and giving it two waves, Bonnie cast a Scourgify and an Engorgio on the black cloth. The resulting fountain of material was just large enough to wrap her from shoulders to ankles, and though thin it was a much better protection against the cold in conjunction with her white woolen jacket. "There," she shivered in a delighted fashion, tucking the corners between her elbows and snuggling into the cover.

"I hope 'ye would permit me to accompany 'ye if such an eventuality occurs. Though it had been my intention to hole up in one of the rooms above, I'd much rather take a walk with 'ye and seek out better accommodation on th' way." said Bonnie. "We'll see where the wind takes the shadow," she said softly to no one in particular. It made her smile, none the less. Perhaps she had gotten the wrong impression of Arnost, because in her opinion he had been nothing but kind to her, despite his cool mannerisms. But she would learn that there was more to him than this. A lent cloth and an offer of a cloak did not necessarily equal a gentle spirit. Bonnie looked up at the tall man and opened her mouth to speak, but suddenly she was doused in thick wine, the liquid soaking into her top. One intoxicated female had ambled past and spilled her drink all over the seated woman. Bonnie's mouth turned from from a part of impeding speech to an offended 'O'. Furiously she began a different sentence. "Please do me a favour and take me away from this place!". The wine was turning cold on her already and Bonnie swept herself to her feet and removed the dark shroud from her shoulders.

 

[Arnost Zhefarovich]

Arnost turned his gaze to someone who had just rudely spilled a drink all over Bonnie. He did not even have a chance to speak to her again when he stood up and pointed his wand at the drunk woman. Arnost fired a 'Reducto!" at the woman, sending her flying back into the crowd of people. "They need to keep away, if they know what is good for them," growled Arnost. He shook his head in a disapproving manner. People really disgusted him from time to time. Arnost glanced down at Bonnie, and though he did not register what she had said before the woman, he caught on to what she said now. Arnost put a hand on her shoulder, and while everyone was distracted by his spell thrown at them, he apparated them to another block in the area.

Removing his hand off of her shoulder, he stared down at her. He was fully aware of how tiny she was. So fragile looking compared to him. Arnost motioned with his head toward the hotel. "If you need a place, there is one that should be suitable. The rooms are pleasant, and you should not come across a single idiot running on alcohol." Arnost granted her some of rare generosity that rarely appeared in Arnost. Right now, he was nothing more but a shadow, a stranger in the wind. Arnost put his wand away, and did not attack anymore. Instead, Arnost leaned down and just barely grazed his lips with hers. It lasted a fraction of a second, before he turned and walked toward the shadows of an alleyway. Just like that, Arnost had departed, off to continue roaming the country before he would even think of returning to his home. All the stranger needed was time.