Post by Deleted on Jul 29, 2013 22:21:36 GMT -5
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The stuffy summer air weighed heavy against the door to The Coffin House, making the usual hazy London evenings even more so. The sun had just started to vanish behind the horizon, and the night life of Knockturn Alley already stirred, not even waiting for the last sunrays to flee from the infamously sinister street. Wizards and witches with shady wear and, often shadier intentions began their leisurely haunting stroll down the Alley, off on business of their own. Mortals: lives wreathed in warm flesh and blood, probably not remotely aware or caring that just behind the stout oak door of the Coffin House existed a being so similar to them, yet entirely separate. Emilio Armand Rosier, 24 years young, 25 years damned, stood perfectly balanced on a step ladder, tending to his latest wares. The wares of today were tame, compared to his usual stock. A store on Knockturn Alley, almost by law of nature, had to be filled with items and resources leaning to dark magic, from the greyest to blackest of intentions. His Rosier family connections, and own acquired gifts through his damnation made Emilio a prime procurer of such artefacts, which he bought and sold without prejudice; a good balance to his seemingly innocent dealings on Diagon Alley. The vampire was well known among his family and peers for his moral ambiguity, which lent to selling potions to “good” wizards by day, maleficent arts to “dark” wizards by night, and the occasional kinslaying in between. The last point he did cautiously, as it was the highest outrage for an immortal to kill his own kind, especially for profit…and he was beginning to be noticed. Still, Emilio was safe currently enough within his double identity to be able to stand in his own store with his back to the door, wand on the counter several yards away, and no one but two house elves for company. The chandelier above his head currently held his attention. The “Canto Candelabra” was its list name; an elaborately crafted, gorgeous thing. It shone reddish gold in the flickering candle light, apparently wrought in Spain, with gold from Mexico, back when it was a colony ripe for harvesting by the Spanish Empire. It’s signature feature, the ability to produce melodies and arias when candles were placed in its holders. Different types of candles produced different songs. Emilio deduced that it had been bewitched further to lull listeners into a deep, disarming sleep, if the right type of candle was burned. Currently both house elves stood at the foot of the ladders, a stack of candles in their arms towering well over their bald heads, assisting their master with learning the different songs the candelabra issued with each matchup. The house elves shifted from foot to foot, partly from the cumbersome weight, partly from nervousness. They were among the few that knew the true nature of their master, and, though they respected him, a sense of fear was ever present. This was especially true after recent feeding, which dilated his pupils for a day or two, and gave them a deep red sheen, unnerving to look upon for such ligt hearted creatures as the elves. Presently, the oak door creaked open, causing both elves to jump. One spilled half his pile of candles onto the floor in his excitement, making the other snort and stifle a giggle. A candle throwing fight would have commenced, had Emilio not deftly snapped up one of the heavier candles and bopped both of them soundly on the head. The effect was more comical than cruel, as he made a point of not applying to much force to the silly creatures. Emilio did not turn to look at the newcomer in his store, but rather let his gaze move back up from the now partially starstruck elves, to the large mirror on the wall before him. Another oddity, yet rather benign compared to its companions on the wall beside it. The mirror was wrought of stout silver, with an highly detailed carving of a leopard crowning the top. “Menagerie mood mirror” was this one’s designation on the stock list. It’s signature trait was to show any looker’s reflection in the form of a beast. The specific beast depended on the person’s mood. As such, if one were to learn all the beasts it could portray, and their corresponding moods, the mirror proved to be an effective way to studying a subject; even revealing true intentions, by the mood the mirror betrayed. Emilio’s red sheened eyes looked back through the mirror from the sockets of a Manticore, presently, as he studied his still silent visitor. “Like what you see? Luckily I do not charge for the spectacle alone. How may I help you?” |
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