Post by DAMIAN SEBASTIAN LOCKE on Nov 10, 2014 20:18:40 GMT -8
Damian felt a rush as Bellatrix spoke of dreams coming true. He took a deep breath and felt the nerves release from his body, this was going to be where it happened. His mark. The sign of his everlasting support and pure power he would possess moving forward. The Dark Lord may not know his name yet but he would. He and Bellatrix would be the thing of legends, partners who know no boundaries. They would pick off and destroy the decrepit pieces of the wizarding world. Cleansing the world in the purest of bloods. His sister would understand his true cause and join them. He was ready for this all to begin and now all he required was the mark itself. The true sign of the beginning.
Damian took the outstretched hand as he raised his eyebrows to the butler or whatever he was. Bellatrix was in control and the little man didn’t intimidate Damian in the slightest. If he’d had spare change he would have tossed it to the poor chap, but alas the dig would have to go unfulfilled. When they entered the room, he recognized the man at once. He had never seen him in person or even a picture but rather the description alone was enough. This was three. Vicente Mortelle III. He was in the company of royalty amongst the Dark Lord’s men.
Damian knew when to speak and when to stay silent. No one in the conversation had spoken to him directly thus he was to stay silent and aware. Following the conversation with his eyes, a slight smirk on his face throughout. He licked his lips as his partner pulled back his sleeve to display his bare flesh, wanting desperate to be filled with the mark of its lord. She spoke of his display of loyalty and he watched Three’s face for any sign of intrigue or decision. There was none, the man was like stone. When he was addressed he spoke. “I do. I want the mark of the Dark Lord. I swear my loyalty here and now, until the lights release from my eyes” He stared at Three with confidence, he meant what he said. Now he wondered the cost of such a deed.
Damian took the outstretched hand as he raised his eyebrows to the butler or whatever he was. Bellatrix was in control and the little man didn’t intimidate Damian in the slightest. If he’d had spare change he would have tossed it to the poor chap, but alas the dig would have to go unfulfilled. When they entered the room, he recognized the man at once. He had never seen him in person or even a picture but rather the description alone was enough. This was three. Vicente Mortelle III. He was in the company of royalty amongst the Dark Lord’s men.
Damian knew when to speak and when to stay silent. No one in the conversation had spoken to him directly thus he was to stay silent and aware. Following the conversation with his eyes, a slight smirk on his face throughout. He licked his lips as his partner pulled back his sleeve to display his bare flesh, wanting desperate to be filled with the mark of its lord. She spoke of his display of loyalty and he watched Three’s face for any sign of intrigue or decision. There was none, the man was like stone. When he was addressed he spoke. “I do. I want the mark of the Dark Lord. I swear my loyalty here and now, until the lights release from my eyes” He stared at Three with confidence, he meant what he said. Now he wondered the cost of such a deed.
