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Post by Emilian Sota on Jun 19, 2008 8:42:50 GMT -5
Emilian nodded, letting his eyes roam once more over the guy's face, pausing a moment on his lips before meeting the guy's eyes for a moment. "So do you have a name?" he asked, grinning, "Or are you just a figment of my addict's imagination?" The guy wouldn't understand the second part, unless he knew who Emilian was. Although, he'd be glad to enlighten him. It must either be a new student or a loner, because Emilian would have remembered seeing a guy like him if they had met before.
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Post by Dare Blackwood-Hardt on Jun 19, 2008 9:09:14 GMT -5
Addict? Dare couldn't be certain, but he had a vague idea what the guy could be talking about, considering the way he looked at him. Considering the way he'd asked the question. Still..."Alasdair Blackwood," he said, dusting his right hand on the leg of his jeans before extending it over the edge of his notebook. "But people call me Dare. And you are?" He wouldn't put it past the guy to neglect to introduce himself if Dare let him.
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Post by Emilian Sota on Jun 19, 2008 9:18:05 GMT -5
Emilian leaned forward a fraction to shake Dare's hand, "Emilian Sota," he said, letting his palm linger for a fraction of a second and smirking again before settling back in his chair. The name Blackwood rang a tiny bell in his mind, he had probably heard it sometime in the past, his parents made it a point to know about many of the old pureblood families. Apparently Dare hadn't read that darned interview, or the scars would have given him away. "You probably don't want to know what people call me," he added, a slightly dangerous glint in his eyes.
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Post by Dare Blackwood-Hardt on Jun 19, 2008 9:30:36 GMT -5
Dare couldn't help the curve of his lips at that statement. The guy was purposefully angling toward the unsettling, but though Dare's palm tingled at the contact, though those icy blue eyes pulled, Dare neither gave in nor retreated. Only a moment passed before the name sank through Dare's mind to memory, and his eyes sharpened, taking Emilian in again. Michael had spoken little of him, but he'd said more than enough to fit. What were the chances? Close friend that thought himself an artist. Apparently the chances were strikingly high.
Dare decided to keep that information to himself for now. It wasn't his place to discuss Michael with others, especially if Dare wasn't sure of their relationship. Any of their relationships, actually. Dare's lips curved lightly, just a shadow of a smile now as he digested this new information. "I can imagine," he said at last, his own eyes glinting with amusement. This was entertaining to say the least.
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Post by Emilian Sota on Jun 19, 2008 9:44:09 GMT -5
Dare took just a little longer to reply than Emilian expected, an amount of time that most people wouldn't have noticed. So, while his gaze remained the same, his mind was calculating. He was trying to figure out if he had ever heard of the guy before, if the name had ever come up in conversation, but no, it hadn't. He searched Dare's eyes, trying to find a clue, "I have never seen eyes quite like yours," he commented, "Family trait or oddity?"
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Post by Dare Blackwood-Hardt on Jun 19, 2008 9:51:51 GMT -5
"Family trait," Dare said, inwardly smiling at the curiosity in Emilian's eyes. Dare knew he'd been caught, but the game still wasn't up. "Me and my brother both have them, dad has them. Mom always said they had something to do with the magic." A subtle declaration, but one he thought Emilian would pick up on. Mom was Muggle. Dare already knew Emilian was Pureblood, from the same pool of the powerful that Michael had come from. He knew Michael's reaction, if you could really call it a reaction at all, but what about his oldest, closest friend?
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Post by Emilian Sota on Jun 19, 2008 10:02:21 GMT -5
While Emilian couldn't take back his initial opinion of Dare's appearance, his interest, however much a passing fantasy it may have been, was gone. He couldn't stop the slight wrinkle of his nose. Surely he had met some mudbloods during his stay at Hogwarts, but as long as it wasn't mentioned he could generally ignore the possibility. When it was first mentioned, though, he couldn't help his gut reaction. "That's always a possibility, magic can do strange things to appearances."
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Post by Dare Blackwood-Hardt on Jun 19, 2008 10:23:56 GMT -5
Burn. Dare's eyes glittered with laughter, and his lips threatened to curve further. Strange things, he inwardly scoffed. That momentary sneer, no matter how slight, was a blatant tell. And Dare was in the mood to prod the Achilles' ego he'd just exposed. "It can," he agreed, "But then, Dad never believed the story the family passed down anyway. What wizard, even in medieval times, would be stupid enough to let a unicorn gore him in the eye twice?" He rather hoped that threw Emilian off-kilter. He'd implied that he was of Muggle heritage, then jumped straight to the Olde and Pompous Family of Blackwood. Was Emilian stuck enough on the mixed blood bit not to chance having misinterpreted?
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Post by Emilian Sota on Jun 19, 2008 10:39:20 GMT -5
Emilian's eyes went flat, "There are some rather stupid people in this world." He was trying to recall if he had ever heard anything about the Blackwoods, but couldn't for the life of him remember. Since he had never needed to come in contact with them, he hadn't cared enough to listen. "Perhaps he didn't have a choice, or perhaps he was just mad." He ran a finger along the edge of his cup, watching Dare.
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Post by Dare Blackwood-Hardt on Jun 19, 2008 10:53:22 GMT -5
God, this was fun. Dare's lips twitched at the corner with the threat of laughter. "Maybe he was mad. Maybe the unicorn was mad and he was in too much shock to do anything. Maybe I'm mad. Maybe you are. Madness is as subjective as art." Dare let his eyes explore Emilian for now, memorizing the details, in case he decided to draw him later. He didn't bother being subtle this time; if Emilian wanted to play the sickened Pureblood, it would only add fuel.
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Post by Emilian Sota on Jun 19, 2008 11:10:39 GMT -5
Proof that mudbloods shouldn't be allowed to live, Dare really was insane. Emilian paused before replying, he wasn't the one that was good at that kind of thing, Michael was the one that could play back and forth with words. He almost thought.....he looked a bit closer, no, it wasn't Michael, couldn't be. Michael wasn't a prank kind of person. "I am mad, can't you tell?" he said, searching for words. He supposed that being a sex addict could be considered mad by some people.
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Post by Dare Blackwood-Hardt on Jun 19, 2008 11:30:39 GMT -5
Emilian was still trying to play along, but his comment didn't so much as sting this time. He'd directed it back on himself just to keep to the conversation. "I don't know about you, but all the great artists are mad. Maybe I aspire to madness." Or, the gleam in his eyes said, maybe I'm yanking your chain. Dare had a flickering moment where he wondered if Michael would approve, but it did nothing to lessen the moment, which was, unfortunately, growing less entertaining as it tapered off. So he took it up another notch and flipped over the page he'd been working for, took a long drink of coffee, and reached for his pastels again. "So, Emilian, is your coffee any good?" he asked amicably, starting a new drawing. Let him make of it what he would.
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Post by Emilian Sota on Jun 19, 2008 11:42:37 GMT -5
Emilian's eyes narrowed slightly, annoyance more obvious in his expression than he would have liked. At Dare's prompt, he took another drink, "It was better before this girl took over," he said, glancing up and catching a glimpse of, of all the people, Gabby. "She's barely a fourth year," he commented absentmindedly, glad to be rid of the previous topic. He turned his eyes back to Dare to see him drawing again. The sight reminded him almost uncomfortably of Michael.
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Post by Dare Blackwood-Hardt on Jun 19, 2008 12:00:12 GMT -5
Dare glanced up at Emilian. He seemed strangely incomplete without the game. He shrugged that thought aside, though, and went back to his drawing. "Shouldn't you be in 7th year?" he asked. Michael was, anyway. Technically he should be, but he hadn't bothered talking to the Headmistress about it yet. "I don't read the Daily Prophet," he explained. "If there's anything important, I'll hear about it through the grapevine." Dare started thinking of what Michael had told him about Emilian. Rapist was what came to mind, and popular with both sexes, but little else. Michael stayed away from Emilian, wondered if Emilian had had feelings for him. And then Michael had kissed him. Dare's lips curved at the memory.
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Post by Emilian Sota on Jun 19, 2008 12:10:16 GMT -5
Emilian shook his head, "Not technically, they just kind of stuck me in there, I'm 19. Suppose it doesn't really matter, now," he ended with a grin. The year didn't matter to someone who was expelled. He wrinkled his nose when Dare mentioned the Daily Prophet, "The Prophet's run by a whore," he said. "You're better off not reading it. It's mostly truth, but then she'll throw in some bull, they need to keep their noses out of other people's business." Of course, the majority that had been written about him was right.
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