``Before I'm Dead || Morgana

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``Before I'm Dead || Morgana Apr 10, 2013 18:46:13 GMT -8

Post by Deleted on Apr 10, 2013 18:46:13 GMT -8

Joram curled his fingers around a letter held so tightly in his hand. Rabastan had made mention of a few people to someone and after that a letter came. It held some very valuable information and he couldn't let it fall into the wrong hands. Making it to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, Joram looked over his shoulder and slipped into the shadows disappearing with the darkness. Breaking through the barrier as to not be late. The young vampire didn't make his presence known , but instead stayed still within the shadows to not draw unwanted attention. Slipping through the door to the after making absolute certain he wasn't being tailed, Joram's senses were high as he didn't want some bloke following him seeing as that was the last thing he needed.

Finding himself standing in a rather well kept shop of quills. Joram was taken aback by the quality, in fact he was astounded. If he were any other normal wizard he may not of been able to see as clearly as he had in the dim lights. A wall of journals had caught his attention, they reached to the ceiling to his left. All of them empty and ready for a new owner. Eager to be written in and used. Maybe he should start keeping a journal or maybe he should really keep a record of the songs he's written. A light smile crossed his lips as he moved toward the wall that nearly towered him. Joram was a lanky individual who stood at six foot one minus the hair. Pulling his black hair out of his eyes as he looked more in detail at the empty tomes. Letting his fingers brush the spine of a very fine purple leather bound piece. Quickly the boy reeled his hand back as he heard the sound of a door cracking open.

Violet eyes scanned the room until they rest upon a woman with long orange hair. Clearing his throat, Jorrie moved cautiously and nearly soundlessly toward the counter she stood behind. "I'm looking for Ms. Schrivenshaft," his voice was as cool as ever and as usual he adjusted the strap of his messenger bag. The urge to drink was ever present in his mind, but not for the usual spirits everyone was entirely fond of. Instead he craved the sweet liquid from the infamous black bottle. Fingers still playing with the envelope in his left hand and the strap of his bag snug in the clutches of his right, Joram looked across the span to the woman who stood almost elegantly. "I'm Vicente Joram Mortelle the Fifth, I was asked to met with her in a few moments." Certainly when it came to business the boy used his entire name as an introduction. Once he was more comfortable with the elder individual he resorted to being called Joram Mortelle. Since he's never met Morgana before this night he wouldn't mind her calling him Vicente, or even Cinque, which he was so used to being named.

Last Edit: Apr 10, 2013 20:19:13 GMT -8 by Deleted

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``Before I'm Dead || Morgana Apr 13, 2013 5:48:33 GMT -8

Post by Deleted on Apr 13, 2013 5:48:33 GMT -8

For the second time in a row, she recounted her till to ensure that she her nominations were perfectly accurate. Perhaps it was an unnecessary act, as Morgana was the proprietor of the business, but she preferred to keep rather precise records, if for her own peace of mind, if nothing else. The family Quill shop had always been a lucrative shop, but recently sales had reached an all time high. The influx of parents arriving for Hogwarts' for the Familia Visitandum, in conjunction with the Wizarding Championship and the arrival of the holiday season had ensured healthy profits, to say the least. Students only purchased what was absolutely necessary as far as school supplies went, but dotting parents always bestowed a plethora of miscellaneous products upon their offspring. Her calculations arrived at the same result as the first time, as they always did. Morgana was a very methodical person, and as such miniscule errors were few and far between. Carefully, she settled the coinage into a deposit back, placing it in the magically enhanced safe below the register. Later that evening, she would transfer it to her own residence- though she made a mental note to order a mass pick-up from Gringotts on the morrow.

The little bell signaling an entry into the quillery rang softly, interrupting the fiery red heads train of thought. She looked up from her bank ledger, and took in the figure of the lad before her. Rabastan Lestrange had come to her a little over a week ago, and made a request of her. She obliged for multiple reasons, one being that the Lestrange's and the Scrivenshafts had familial ties, they had always run in the same circle of pureblood society, and as such it was only proper. Morgana was also eager to meet all new possible participants who yearned to join their cause, and utilize her own strategy of interrogation and investigation on them. Then, of course, Riddle had instructed her to assist in the training of incoming recruits, who had yet to master the nebulous art of dark magic. She had been particularly curious when the surname surname Mortelle had been mentioned, and she had done a bit of background research. This Joram, as she had ascertained he was often called, was the son of one Mr. Vincent Mortelle, Head of Vampire Affairs at the Ministry of Magic, and also open of his vampire 'taintblood'. She had met Mr. Mortelle on multiple occasions, and had found him rather pleasant, regardless of his off-putting rebellious nature. It appeared that his son had inherited those similar qualities, though it was rather befitting image. His long, dark hair framed his visage in a lovely manner, and though he was still in his teenage adolescence, he was quite attractive in his own right.

Though the youthful Ms. Scrivenshaft ran her families Quill Shop by day, it was a known fact among the wizarding community that she was a historian and an ancient artifacts enthusiast. Given her access to the Ministry Records, she easily traced a plethora of bloodlines in her research- but she also had an ulterior motive, as most do. She often conducted investigations for Riddle himself, discovering individuals backgrounds, pinpointing their locations, looking into supposed myths...such as her current project, claiming the Peverall Brothers artifacts. In fact, in a few short weeks, she would be brining several Death Eater recruits on a bit of a...field trip, to tutor them on the proper methods of torture and blackmail involving the task. She would have to delve deep into Joram's mental state to observe whether he, too, would be joining the outing- not to mention, training would have to start relatively immediately. "Oh yes, I am very much aware of your name, Joram. I'm far more curious to decipher who you are, as it happens. Ms. Scrivenshaft is my deceased mother, I implore you to call me Morgana, thank you." she introduced herself before silently flicking her wand at the entry, thus securely locking the door. "Please, follow me." she instructed, leading him out the back door and through a winding corridor, before arriving at a solid mahogany shelf, covered top to bottom with mysterious objects in glass display cases- a portion of her private collection. She tapped a few select locations on the shelf, and it opened to reveal a large hall of sorts. To the left of the door was a serving station and parlor area, adorned with several couches and headed by a massive bar. In the center, a long, intricately decorated dueling platform highlighted the chamber. "Please, have a seat. Can I offer you a refreshment?" she inquired, heading behind the bar to whip up a batch of hot peppermint tea, laced with cinnamon schnapps- one of her personal favorites.

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``Before I'm Dead || Morgana May 1, 2013 16:05:19 GMT -8

Post by Deleted on May 1, 2013 16:05:19 GMT -8

His violet eyes shifted over the soft young skin of the shop keeper. She was beyond beautiful, but he knew where to draw the line. The last thing he wanted to do was fuck this meeting up and he knew it was important for his future. "My apologies, Morgana." Keeping his current appearance up was something he needed to do, he needed a place in this world and being the drug and alcohol peddler in Hogwarts wasn't going to cut it for much longer, especially since he only had one year left within the walls.

Without further question, Jor followed his instructions from the woman before him and thus stayed close behind, through a back door and into a somewhat dark corridor, but still it wasn't so horrible. Soon he scanned over a larger room that that they stepped into. A long bar caught his eye and soon he felt the urge to jump behind the counter in order to mix a few of his own drinks. Surprisingly for being only sixteen, Joram was very skilled at bartending, something he had learned on his own, and from his grandmother. Once offered a seat he did as he was told.

"I'll take whatever you're having, if it's not too big of a deal. Would rather not dirty up another mixer if at all possible." Joram struggled with the thought of dirtying more dishes than necessary, it was something Vivian had instilled within him to the very core. Antoni was well, it was something that stuck and even when he was partying it up and mixing drinks for his friends, the boy managed to keep a meticulously clean bar counter. Staying silent while he lounged back in the comfort of the couches. Joram watched Morgana with a very observant eye and kept a soft smile locked onto her as she peeked up every once in a while.

Trying something on her would be idiotic, Rabastan told him to keep on his best behaviour and to not ruin what it was he had been offered. It could have been anyone, Rab could have picked anyone out of their group, but he chose him. Joram Mortelle, of all people. Granted it could have been that he needed guidance or some sort of companionship. Maybe it was Integra's idea. Or perhaps his actions had been witnessed by others. Casting Caitlin aside like a bad habit hurt at the beginning, but slowly he was starting to recognize that it was feeling much better.

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``Before I'm Dead || Morgana May 17, 2013 10:13:45 GMT -8

Post by Deleted on May 17, 2013 10:13:45 GMT -8

Morgana nodded politely, retrieving a second porcelain cup and filling it to the very brim with the alcohol laced tea, taking a brief moment to inhale the spiced aroma that the delicious concoction offered. She placed both beverages gingerly on a pure silver serving tray, and lightly padded over to take up a seat directly across from her young companion. The refreshments followed behind, as M had opted to use magic for the transportation of the vessels in order to avoid spilling any of the precious liquids they contained. Once the drinks arrived at the table between them, she immediately raised her glass to her lips, blowing gently to cool the substance within. She took a slow, elongated sip, viewing this Joram boy over the brim of her glass. Her hand pointed to the other cup, a gesture that suggested he should join her in the consumption of the amplified herbaceous mixture. "Shall we delve into the subject of your visit swiftly, then? I do so detest awkward introductions and frivolous chatter." Morgana began, having no intentions to waste even a single fraction of a moment on trivial conversation.

She gave him another once over, observing both his expression and his perfected posture. He obviously understood how to properly conduct himself in the presence of pureblood society, a trait that was only slightly surprising. The Mortelle's were both an infamous and influential family, one of the few prestigious vampire bloodlines in existence, to be exact. It should not have shocked her, then, to view such pristine manners- and yet, she knew much of the lads father. He was customarily jovial and amiable, and had the reputation of being rather rebellious. When she had completed her visual diagnostic on the subject at hand, she began to debrief the teenager. "The Lestrange brothers seem to have quite a bit of respect for you, Joram, and offered nothing but compliments in your honor. However, I am not one to be easily impressed, nor do I judge characters based on the opinions of others. The one individual standing between you, and the endless, all-encompassing power that most could never even fathom in their most exaggerated dreams, is me. Do you know why you're here, then? Do you comprehend what, exactly, I am? What the likes of Rabastan and Rodolphus, and possibly even you, could be, in the future?" she inquired. Before she probed his mentality, Morgana needed to assure that Joram had a formal understanding about who the Death Eaters were, and what their utmost desire was. In short, she needed to believe that they had common cause, and that he would be a useful tool in the Dark Lord's army, in the battle against blood impurities and those barbarous muggles.

Of course, it would require more to convince Morgana than mere words, for the forked tongue is the most wicked of weapons- one that Morgana valued, and utilized on a regular basis. There were many reasons why Riddle required all recruits to be screened by Morgana before they begun their training in the most unsavory of magics. First and foremost, she was one of the reigning authorities on magical history- an expert at tracing bloodlines, if you will. On top of that, she had acquired the skill of Legilimency and Occlumency at a young age, and her talents had been augmented by the Dark Lord himself. She had every intentions of delving into the delicate, intricate web that was Joram's mind, all in due time, of course.

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``Before I'm Dead || Morgana May 26, 2013 10:42:15 GMT -8

Post by Deleted on May 26, 2013 10:42:15 GMT -8

Awkward was something Joram had never been capable of even in the presence of an adult. He was social kid and he talked to nearly everyone, but the boy always knew when to listen and when to talk. It was something his grandmother taught him and made him completely aware of. "You as well as I Morgana." Once the glass was in his hand,Jor looked up at the red haired woman and smiled lightly trying to relax and feel a little, trying to get into the zone.

"They have taken a liking to me yes. Ever since I met Rodolphus in my third year I suppose. Rabastan is a little more difficult to get through to, but he's a very very intelligent man. I honestly wouldn't be surprised if he were to be the next one to create an uprising." Joram found himself shaking his head in thought with only a slight smile his violet eyes moved to the right examining the woman who sat next to him. There was nothing that could stop him, but the lack of trust he was getting from her would only be something common from people meeting the boy for the first time. Clenching his jaw as she spoke Joram nodded when he needed to nod and shook his head where it was apparent.

Eyes opening a little wider as she finished rambling on about the Death Eaters and he nodded once more. "I have been surrounded by Death Eaters my entire life Morgana, I'm not new to the information about them nor am I sensitive about what it is you, they, even possibly myself are capable of. Pureblood Elitism at it's finest in its greatest form. A group of exclusive individuals who are thought to reign terror on the public, on the innocent. But that's not the case. I know that what the others believe is just what they want to see. My Grandfather is a death eater, he believes in preservation of the pureblooded lines, be they taintblood, wizard or otherwise. Protection of lineage is important with my family and it has been for centuries." Looking up from the glass he gave her a smile.

"What is it they say? Family is important and they come first, preservation is number zero in line. It is bred into us from birth and built from our very core. I would be a fool to deny that. Deny my family and breaking down one of the entirely pure vampiric lines in history. It would take and idiot to defy what is in my chest, my head or my soul." Joram wasn't about to admit that they did happen to do a few things the muggle way, but some of the family weren't born like he was, they were created. His uncle Lucien, for instance, he was not a wizard therefore he was cast aside as if he were nothing by his own father. Instead of marrying Vivian, his grandmother, Vicente III was given that option even though he was the younger of the two. It's brutal and cruel the way of life, but it was necessary.