Cecily Rambolt
Well-Known Member
- Messages
- 7,229
- OOC First Name
- Liv
- Blood Status
- Pure Blood
- Relationship Status
- Divorced
- Wand
- Tulip Wood Wand with Unicorn Hair Core
Cecily stirred her coffee, her green eyes a little dreamy, her mouth turned up in a soft smile. Her run in and subsequent date with Prodan Zhefarovich had been the most fun she'd had in years. Not since she was as young as the students milling about eating their breakfasts. She'd woken up in his arms the next morning, laughing at her stiff neck and his awkwardly bent long frame, as they'd passed out on his couch from sheer exhaustion. Swimming and having a run in with his demon of a father had wiped her clean out. A soft kiss, a hug, murmured words and she'd apparated back home.
An owl landing in front of her shook her from her thoughts. Her lips thinned as she pressed them together, absently fed the bird, then read the titles she'd ordered in post haste earlier this morning. They certainly hadn't wasted their time, just as she hadn't wasted her galleons; she'd more or less bribed a speedy delivery. The books enlarged to paperback size and Cecily studied their titles. No one but Cecily could read them, as they'd been charmed to read very mundane titles to anyone other than the owner.
Aparauh. A shudder ran through her and she gulped down the hot coffee before staring into its depths. He was a Death Eater, she was nearly one hundred percent sure of it. Her gaze sought out Kalif for a split second, bounced off him, then retreated to her cup. What did she know, really, about the man she'd hired? Yet he'd saved her life the other day on the cliffs; she owed him. One shiny Life Debt, to be collected by him at any time he so chose. The thought left her cold.
Picking up one book, its fake title reading Gadding with Ghouls, she began to leaf through the beginning. Bulgarian. It wouldn't be too hard to learn, as Cecily had a natural knack for languages. Growing up moving from port to port, picking them up had taught her quickly. She wanted to learn mainly because it was Prodan's primary language; the second, darker reason was because she didn't want to be caught with her pants down around Asparuh or his ilk.
The other two were geared toward self defense and Auror hand to hand combat. She'd sunk a pretty knut into them but she knew they'd be worthwhile. As, she thought, would the missive she'd sent to her grandfather. She'd gotten soft, lazy, drunk-stupid, in her opinion.
If she were to have any life worth living, it would be lived sober. And she would have to be on constant guard, even around Prodan. She could never put her faith into another human being again, not when it came to her life.
An owl landing in front of her shook her from her thoughts. Her lips thinned as she pressed them together, absently fed the bird, then read the titles she'd ordered in post haste earlier this morning. They certainly hadn't wasted their time, just as she hadn't wasted her galleons; she'd more or less bribed a speedy delivery. The books enlarged to paperback size and Cecily studied their titles. No one but Cecily could read them, as they'd been charmed to read very mundane titles to anyone other than the owner.
Aparauh. A shudder ran through her and she gulped down the hot coffee before staring into its depths. He was a Death Eater, she was nearly one hundred percent sure of it. Her gaze sought out Kalif for a split second, bounced off him, then retreated to her cup. What did she know, really, about the man she'd hired? Yet he'd saved her life the other day on the cliffs; she owed him. One shiny Life Debt, to be collected by him at any time he so chose. The thought left her cold.
Picking up one book, its fake title reading Gadding with Ghouls, she began to leaf through the beginning. Bulgarian. It wouldn't be too hard to learn, as Cecily had a natural knack for languages. Growing up moving from port to port, picking them up had taught her quickly. She wanted to learn mainly because it was Prodan's primary language; the second, darker reason was because she didn't want to be caught with her pants down around Asparuh or his ilk.
The other two were geared toward self defense and Auror hand to hand combat. She'd sunk a pretty knut into them but she knew they'd be worthwhile. As, she thought, would the missive she'd sent to her grandfather. She'd gotten soft, lazy, drunk-stupid, in her opinion.
If she were to have any life worth living, it would be lived sober. And she would have to be on constant guard, even around Prodan. She could never put her faith into another human being again, not when it came to her life.