Skŭpa maĭko

[Ivaylo Zhefarovich-Dolohov]

Asking his father where to find the place, since his father had only been there a handful of times, Ivaylo Zhefarovich-Dolohov went to find the one person who had frequented it many a time in his days of living. Arnost Zhefarovich told him where to find it, and did not occupy him for the time being. Seeing as Arnost was connected to his children, which Ivaylo was not. He apparated to the long since abandoned Carrow Hall located in New Zealand. Ivaylo needed some guidance, and being around his family did not help. He held his daughter, Tempest, close to him. She was already two, and no longer asked where her mommy was. Ivaylo hated hearing that since he did not know the answer to it regardless. Ivaylo stared at the door to the Carrow Hall, unsure if what he would find would be located here. Would he find the one person that he required in order to speak to, outside of the family that had a thousand rules, and a million ways to die? Tempest squirmed in her daddy's arms, before the former Slytherin prefect finally gave in to her demands. He got out his wand after setting his daughter down. He waved his wand and the door opened on command.

Tempest let out a small squeal before Ivaylo rolled his eyes. He lifted her by the arms and set her on top of his shoulders, while entering Carrow Hall. Ivaylo wondered through the vast hall, while his daughter held tightly to his hair, what little there was to grip. Ivaylo smirked slightly, "This is where your grandma used to live, Tempest. Before she was struck down." Tempest nodded a bit, listening, as Ivaylo held her steady with his arms. He did wonder if his sister ever came around here. Then again, she latched her claws into another man from what he heard. She just gave birth to her third child, named after their mother. As far as the oldest of his mother's children, he had no idea what he was doing. If he was still alive, even. Ivaylo continued to walk until he found a room with a crib within it. Was this... This was his old room. Ivaylo stood by the doorway, his silver eyes narrowing slightly.
​

 

[Thorine Dolohov]

Her company these days were paintings on walls, dust mites scurrying along floors, spiders creeping up walls and mice squeaking through doors. No one came anymore to the hall that had once been so busy with life, life she had given to it body and soul. Goia her house elf had died a few years before and her children did not seem to want to view this part of their lives any, their inheritance. She was chained to this place in death as she had once been to her grandmother while living. Thorine smirked recalling the day that woman had died ... history changes itself for the victors and Thorine Dolohov could think and say what she liked regarding the death of that odious woman. She could say what she liked now not simply because the woman was dead and long since but because Thorine was also dead. Her grandmother, as had her grandfather had all passed on, spirits willing every so often to garner themselves into paintings to speak on occasion to her when she willed it.

She clearly she knew had unfinished business but could no more finish anything when her spirit was tied to Carrow Hall. What she would give to see Arnost, to see Christian, Vixen and her baby Ivaylo. She had no sense of time anymore, days and nights blurred, months and years passed and sometimes to her it felt as if it had only been yesterday when the auror had killed her. Even the portraits of her family were no good and distinguishing the passage of time for her as their portraits hung nowhere else but Carrow Hall. A hazy mist of what she once was swept silently and slowly through the upper floors when a noise sounded.

Thorine stopped and turned her head in the direction it had come. Was in more muggle intruders, more stupid teenagers trying to break in and use Carrow Hall for their drinking parties. She would make short work of them as she had previously done. Her form disappeared from the upper floor and reappeared downstairs near the front door in time to watch the figure of a man walking with a baby in his arms up the stairs. His words floated down the stairwell to her, grandma ... Tempest, struck down.

She knew this person, she was certain of it, she could feel it but who was he and who was he talking about? This had been her home, that she had made for herself when she had moved to New Zealand. No one else had lived here even after she had died. Fading into the darkness she watched the pair go up the stairs to the floor where her children had once slept. Ivaylo's room was still as it had been when he had been a baby, dust and cobwebs attempted to settle on much of it but Thorine would not allow that, not in that room or the rooms of Vixen and Christian. She blew through them every so often but only enough to scatter the dust, never enough to knock anything over ... at least not again, not after the first time when Ivaylo's photograph had fallen to the floor. He was only a few days old in it and nestled in her arms. It still lay now on the floor, she had been unable to pick it up all this time.

If she had a heart it would now be hammering in her chest as she reappeared on the landing, the man and baby were at Ivaylo's room.
"Trespasser" she declared, her voice decidedly eerie and calm and yet as she said the word, she knew that this man was no trespasser, nor was the babe in his arms.

 

[Ivaylo Zhefarovich-Dolohov]

Ivaylo felt his daughter squirm so much that she nearly fell off of his shoulders. Ivaylo reached up to soothe the disturbed child before he saw the source. It was a ghost. Tempest had seen many, mainly since the Zhefarovich Manor was home to many. This one was new, so it perturbed the child. Ivaylo moved her from his shoulders and held her on his hip as his eyes narrowed at the ghost of his mother, unable to recognize him. His eyes averted as he saw a photograph resting on the floor. Ivaylo approached the photograph, as his words murmured, "How much time has passed..." He lifed the frame off the floor, as he set the picture of himself and Thorine onto the proper place. Ivaylo held that statement in the air, as Tempest asked in her tiny voice, "Who dat" His daughter commanded as much respect as he had when he was that young. It was a family trait, considering who his parents were. Even though he was conceived with a potion, a mistake, it seemed that he was destined to be. He fought to find his own path, whereas his sister was lost on hers, and his older half-brother, Christian, was just lost altogether.

"I believe you should recognize your grandmother, my love," Ivaylo purred as his smirk spread across his lips. "Struck down by the now dead Auror, Nicolas King. This is why we hate Aurors, Tempest. They separate us from our mothers, fathers, beloved friends and family." Ivaylo soothed his blonde child. Her green eyes seemed to match the hue that Vixen had, which she inherited from her mother. Ivaylo, however, inherited his father's. "I am your youngest child, so by no means am I a trespasser. This is my daughter, also of the purest bloods, Tempest." Not wanting to overload her so quickly, he kept his nieces and nephews quiet for now. If needed, he could have his sister come by. Only if needed.​

 

[Thorine Dolohov]

Before he had turned she had a sense of who he might be, of who he could be and very slowly the ghost of Thorine Dolohov moved forward inch by inch. She heard his conversation with the babe in his arms, watched as he picked up the photograph and as he did so a thousand lost images flitted through her as if an old movie reel was being played. It was more a sense of being, she recognised an underlying scent, the face seemed eerily familiar as if she were looking at a young version of herself and Asparuth rolled into one. A gurgle, a laugh, a first word all came rolling in upon her and she could no more stop them than she could night and day.

His name sounded like an echo in her head and her weary look, turned into curiosity, into longing, into incredulity. This was... her son. Her second born son, her third born child but ... her son. He was so grown. How could that be? How much time had passed? His smile even now reminded her so much of her own and his eyes ... those eyes were so his fathers that there could be no doubt as to his lineage. She heard him tell the child that the auror that had killed her was now dead and she felt elated at that, wondering who had done the deed and hoping it was one of her own.

He spoke to her, telling her who he was and then telling her who the child was. Thorine was before them in the blink of an eye. Eyes wide as she drank them both in, her mist like hands raised as if she would touch the cheeks of them both and it made her angry that she couldn't but this was her line, her pureblood line that she had desired for, that she had done all in her power to ensure would continue .. and it was beautiful.

"My son ... my Ivaylo" she whispered the words as she looked at him and then turned to look at the infant and smiled triumphantly, "my grand-daughter ... Tempest, I adore your name my beauty".

This was as far as Thorine was concerned worth dying for, worth everything she had ever endured. Purity continued and it was perfect and absolutely glorious.
"Tell me all about you ... and your daughter, are there more?" she asked of her beloved son, for to her he was most assuredly that.

 

[Ivaylo Zhefarovich-Dolohov]

Tempest stared in wonder toward her grandmother, as Ivaylo continued to hold on to his daughter, and wait for the look of recognition that would flow toward his mother. She seemed to understand, bit by bit. Her ghostly hands came so close to touching them both, but even so, fate was so cruel. Ivaylo gave a short nod as Thorine spoke, then looking to his daughter. Tempest gave a small wave toward the ghost, laughing as she did so. She seemed so full of life and love, it was hard to tell that she was of Zhefarovich and Dolohov line. Yet, she seemed to demand so much respect at the same time. She was definitely Ivaylo's seed. "I am 21 now, mother. I graduated from Hogwarts as a Slytherin, dueling specialist, and now an assassin for the Zhefarovich family. Tempest is my only child, which her mother was not exactly... She was too kind." Charlotte was not cut out to hang around the Zhefarovich family. "Unfortunately, I don't know much about Christian and what he is doing nowadays. Never bothered to seek him out. But Vixen just had her third child. All three are of pure linage. I believe, if memory serves, one is named in your honor."

Ivaylo adjusted Tempest on his hip, who seemed eager to go off and play. She was a toddler and practically screamed for things to go her way. Since Thorine didn't know what all happened, he figured that he should inform her of some other happenings. But first, he did need to know one thing. "Do you still harbor feelings for Arnost?" He would need to know the answer before he would tell her that Arnost was still around. He was a ghost but he was still about. If she did, he could bring her a gift, the love of her life, or afterlife, back.​