corda-comminuta

[corda-comminuta]

[AFSkjafhkafsl, OMG, I absolutely do recognize this <3 <3 <3 Just gawsh, all of the Grindelrose feels T_T T_T And it's so gorgeous and almost hauntingly atmospheric depiction of them too! I'm obsessed with your take on their expressions and the emphasis on the roses and snow these two are so fond of, especially as a respite from the cause-related burdens each of them had to deal with prior to that scene.

Now, excuse me as I stare at this for the rest of the month at least ]

Gellert Grindelwald and Vinda Rosier, Nurmengard Rose Garden.

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Gellert Grindelwald playing the violin in Nurmengard

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💬 + Nagini~~~

Send 💬 + [character name] for my muse to talk about that character!

"Ah, she is truly dear to me. Nagini." Voldemort said his hand had reach out to pet a head that wasn't there.

His fingers curl into his palm. Trying to hide that tender movement. Forgetting he had left her behide. Hooded and hidden he waited in a pub, getting caught up in small talk with his next victim.

"She has been with me for so long. A part of my family." A common phrase among pet owners. But little did his listner know how true this was.

Nagini had kept him whole. Her venom had given him a body. Nurse him like a mother he never knew.

"She kept me company at my lowest moment."

How the two commucated when he lacked a body. How she made him sane when he could not seek oblivion in a dreamless sleep.

"I can talk about anything with her. She is closer to me then a family member or even a lover." He smiles, unseen under his heavy hood.

Normally The Dark Lord would not talk about Nagini. Not her. Most only knew her as a serpent and not the woman she once was. A woman he had such a short time with. No one could know about her.

"Listen to me rattle on. Lovesick as I am."

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The Dark Lord has come to chase Nagini.

Nagini was still giving him the silent treatment, not even looking up from the book on her lap.

Deep down, she wanted to forgive him even without an apology, without any attempt on his part to make amends.

Old (obsolete) instincts encouraged such behavior around the man she loved.

And yet, he had taught her better than that, better than running after those who had betrayed and abandoned her far too easily with a mindset of sympathy and infinite patience.

If his lessons thus turned into an obstacle for him, that was his consequence to bear.

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Nagini just looked at him, the hint of a pout marring her otherwise stoic countenance.

(She'd never fault him for being admired by many. And yet, she had thought she was special to him, too.)

He's my raison d'être. The one who destroyed my shackles. The one who uplifted me, taught me I was not lesser, but superior. He also introduced me to the thrill of conquest. Everything I am, I owe to him. And I love him.

(Guess who? XD)

tell my muse what your muse thinks of mine on anon! Anything goes!

"Conquest, ah, this could be anyone. Or least narrow down to one of the choosen few, my Death Eaters." He said,

(I feel there is a hint in there that I am too slow to pick up on.)

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I dare you to kiss... Nagini (let's make it mine @corda-comminuta for old times' sake :D)

Send "I dare you to kiss..." with a url/name and my muse will have to kiss that person on the lips. //Closed

@corda-comminuta

"You heard them Nagini." He hisses in their shared tongue.

His hand slides around her waist and pulls her closer. All the while whispering in secert. "There, there...hush hush." His mouth finds hers and what was once a game became personal. How soft her lips are. How he kisses away her words. Going deeper with a raw need. His hand clawing at her flimsy dress. How lips turn to tongue then teeth running along her bottom lip.

He pulls back before he can loose control.

"There...wasn't so bad."

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“You and your words obsessed with your legacy. Your sentences border on senseless and you are paranoid in every paragraph…”

▪️ Independent RP Blog ▪️ Multi Muse / Multi Verse / Multi Ship ▪️ Feat. Canons & OCs from; Harry Potter // Fantastic Beasts // Wizarding World && Batman // DC && Detroit: Become Human && Others (inc. Fandomless) ▪️ Written By Christina / Susan B. Perb (She / Her 30+) ▪️ Glacially slow && currently under heavy construction

                              Rules || Muses || Int. Checker

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face study with Poppy Corby-Tuech aka Vinda Rosier

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[Still around, just.... also elsewhere now? Since my main fandom before Wizarding World let me down HORRIBLY (the show in question turned into a grotesque parody of what it started out as after a STELLAR first season) aaaand WW proceeded to do the same with that disgraceful SoD movie (how DARE they butcher every single one of my four main faves??) y'all cannot imagine my enthusiasm when the one of the latest installments of my third fave franchise turned out to be GOD-TIER-AMAZING? *insert ugly sobbing*

Granted, I'm not happy about EVERY single decision (especially the more obvious kind of 'fanservice padding' - also defintiely not appreciating some of the writing decisions in the new mobile game), but the main bulk of it, especially when it comes to my main fave?

Pretty much spared me from further succumbing to grief-induced depression and actually undid the vast majority of that?

So, in other words: Find me here if you happen to be into FFVII (or curious about it): @hoshinierabareshimono

I'm up to my usual villainous shenanigans and I'm still very much into writing about human hubris, truth as a blessing and burden alike (and the duty of bearing it with grace), prideful intelligent pessimists with trust issues who are also major control freaks, man vs fate... yanno, anything that should be predictable for me by now :D

This is not a goodbye - as I do intend to post the occasional IC-post or two on my HP/FB blogs whenever my (low AF) energy levels permit me to, but more of a loooong overdue mun update :P]

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“Very well.”

Nagini found herself falling into step beside him far too easily. Once more, she was startled by herself, by her uncharacteristic negligence, and yet, there was this insatiable need, this compulsion to learn more about this enigmatic man, the source of his confidence, the reason they all backed away from him in instinctive fear.

Possibly, about herself as well.

“Some people like to believe they’re the only ones immune to whatever frightens everyone else.” Nagini stated. “It brings them comfort. Satisfaction too. But the lies they tell themselves will cost them. It’s impossible for them to outrun a threat they fail to acknowledge as such.”

There was neither compassion to be found in her voice nor was there a trace of righteous anger. Instead, there was only detachment, clinical and gelid.

For as long as she could remember, Nagini had been branded as other – an underbeing, a beast, a perpetual outsider in the magical and non-magical world alike. Why would the fate of a faceless crowd be of any concern her? In her eyes, they were all alike – arrogant, vain, and utterly replaceable.

(There was no doubt in Nagini’s mind that she would be forgotten long before her blood curse would permanently trap her in her serpent form.)

It was rare for her to offer her truthful assessment, even more so after Credence had left her behind without a single glance back.

And yet, in that moment, it seemed to her as though it were the most natural course of action in the world.

Voldemort gave her a slight bow.

“How serendipitous!” He switched his hand for his elbow, “I invited myself here. Perhaps we could take a walk around, and comment about the fussy show.”

Finding he would not take no for an answer. Not when her aura sang to him.

His eyes linger on the jetting bones of her collar. The slight stiffness of her body. The shallowness of her breathing. How on edge she seemed. Was it because of him? Or was it something else?

Of which he chose to ignore it.

Voldemort waves his hand, “Masks.”

“You would think they would be careful. Not with so many rebellious attacks.”

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Respectable Teachings

regretismyconstantcompanion​:

Albus was ready to assure her that he would be quite fine without his scarf and ask just what type of gentleman would he be if he allowed her to remain cold, especially given that it was his own misstep that had landed her out here without suitable attire. But the gentle reassurance died on his lips as he watched her withdraw her wand, wondering in soft amusement if she might hex him after all. He could hardly complain and he did always delight at her display of magic, with its hint of darkness. But instead of a hex, she turned her wand and attention to her beautiful rose garden. They were such a lovely addition to their home. He often enjoyed taking tea out here, sometimes alone, sometimes with company. The beauty of the various shades of petals, combined with their wonderful scent made this a perfect spot to clear ones head and just indulge in the beauty of both nature and creation. A snow covered mountain top was not a natural place for roses, just as it was not natural for witches and wizards to hide their true nature. It wasn’t a crime to be born with magic and yet the corrupt Ministries demanded that they hide themselves and their gifts away. Just as Vinda had cast enchantments to protect the stunning blooms and ensure their survival, he and Gellert, alongside Vinda and many of their brothers and sisters, were going to forge ahead, ensuring wizardingkind could thrive in the new world they were going to create. He watched as the rose she cast the spell upon delicately melted the blossom away, the petals twisting themselves into a beautiful scarf of equally stunning colour. The warm shades of red instantly warmed him, before he had even touched its fabric. It made him recall the colour of his beloved Fawkes, his House back at Hogwarts and Vindas roses that had long ago become a symbol for coming home to Nurmengard.  “Oh Vinda.” Albus took the offered scarf, his fingers stroking the soft fabric reverently. “It’s beautiful.” It was thoughtful in so many ways and he knew that he would wear it often, despite her gifting it as only a temporary replacement. He reached up to drape it around his neck, before he magically tied it into a half bow epaulette. “It’s perfect Vinda, thank you.” Albus reached out, taking her hand in his and gave it a soft squeeze before he leaned in and pressed an affectionate kiss against her cheek before he pulled back. He noted her blushing cheeks but put it down to the chill in the air. “Now that we are both suitably attired, shall we begin our lesson?”

Having expected Albus to evaluate the quality of the transfigured scarf and her spellcasting first and foremost, Vinda was perplexed to notice that Albus appeared to be treating the object as if it possessed a sentimental value.

Granted, she had chosen the exact shade of the original rose with Albus himself in mind and she would have never insulted him with sloppy wandwork, but in the end, she had still merely improvised, intent on shielding him from the cold in return before he’d experience any significant discomfort.

She had thus neither spent enough time on its creation for it to qualify as a present qualified to be regarded as a token of significance, nor had she presented it to him as such.

Accepting his praise with a graceful incline of her head and squeezing his hand in return, Vinda had every intention of steering their conversation towards a more prudent (towards a safer) topic. But then, Albus took her by surprise once more, striking where she was most vulnerable.

Nothing could have prepared her for being kissed on the cheek with such open affection, the way his soft lips seemed to be searing an invisible mark into her skin with brutal tenderness.

Her breath hitched in her throat, her eyes fluttered closed once more, and she was mesmerized – confounded. Had she succumbed to his spell for an instant longer, she would have touched her cheek in that very spot and condemned herself irreversibly.

“You’re welcome,” she uttered stiffly and a moment too late. “And gladly. But let us take another step away from the roses. Mending charms or not, they have a penchant for holding grudges.”

Not that she could blame them. After all, Vinda herself was quite tenacious in her vindictiveness and thus experienced a sense of kinship to the Rosiers’ namesake flower.

More than anything, she needed him to conclude that he had simply caught her off-guard. It was, after all, no longer a secret to Albus that she was anything but spontaneous.

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*pets nagini* are you a good noodle girl?

"You will be the judge of that. Crucio!"

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La Danse des Âmes

@tmvoldemort, continued from here: X

The vast marble hall was lit by white taper candles. Their light bounced off mirrors and crystals, setting the world into a golden shine. A temple to wealth and influences set in a Rococo finished. There, looking cozy with a socialite was the Minister from France. Trying to keep up with her more dance savvy partner was the fame MACUSA Auror.  Each guest donned a mask. Some had a theme going among them. A Merlin here. Morgana with her date in a Raven mask. A pair with matching silver and gold gilded masks. More than most went with Venina styles. All unaware of the interloper.   Slithering between the throne. His gaze was limited by his plain mask.  How safe they believe themselves to be, Voldemort thought. Foolish to allow masks. Not when a group dons them to wage war against them. Still a few sense something off about it. They shiver as Voldemort slithers by. A chill of moral danger. But Voldemort wasn’t here for them. Spying his intended overlooking the dance floor on a balcony. He came up from behind her. Smelling the fragrant she wore on her neck. Merging into her slight shadow.  Leaning over to whisper in her ear; “Mademoiselle you are not dancing. Surely your date has not abandoned you? Least for someone else to take your fancy.”

Had it been any other soirée dansante in Paris, Nagini would have felt exposed and vulnerable and dread would have clung to her like a second skin. Over the course of her wretched life as an Underbeing, she had seen too much to entertain the delusion that she belonged for a mere instant, not when she was acutely aware of the wand she was barred from carrying, of the power, dignity, and agency she thus lacked compared to the witches and wizards surrounding her.

The relative anonymity granted by masquerade balls such as the one she attended that night did not dispel her discomfort in its entirety, yet at the very least, she did not feel quite as naked with her features concealed behind a plain mask of sufficiently convincing faux silver.

There had been rumors that Credence would be there – or rather Corvus Lestrange, the boy who had (mercifully) died in Credence’s stead and who was still falsely rumored to be his true identity.

Expecting to be dismissed a second time without a glance back, Nagini foolishly found herself aching to know he was at least all right, that – despite her fear and disapproval of Grindelwald and his pureblood supporters – he had found a home, the sense of belonging she had been unable to offer.

Minutes of discretely surveying the masked crowd from her vantage point on a balcony, however, soon turned into two agonizing hours, and despite knowing that her chances of finding him her had been infinitesimal at best, her heart nonetheless sank at her inability to detect a whiff of his familiar scent, the hint of ash and charcoal emanating from his pores.

‘Half an hour,’ she decided. ‘I will stay for another half an hour, but then, I’ll give up.Leave before they notice I’m not one of them.’

But then, all of a sudden, there was a subtle shift in the air, a lone masked wizard weaving his way through the crowd, who was different from the others, different and infinitely more dangerous.

It was evident that even those not cursed with a beast’s enhanced senses intuitively responded to that truth, shivering and angling their torsi so as to facilitate his passage.

It was with a vehement surge of dread that Nagini realized that the stranger was heading towards her, pinning her in place with his eyes alone.

She couldn’t move a single muscle, overwhelmed by the dizzying assault on her senses.

His deep, melodious voice caressed her ear in a tantalizing whisper; the pitch-black magic he exuded ensnared her, its distinct flavor rich on her tongue like expensive dark chocolate.

Nagini had to summon every ounce of her willpower to adopt an air of stoicism.

“I apologize for the misunderstanding, Monsieur, but I’m an interpreter, not a guest,” she lied, her tone polite yet distant. “As my employer no longer requires my services, I intend to take my leave.”

Despite the wariness and caution ingrained in her every bone, Nagini found herself lingering for just another moment, granting the enigmatic stranger an opportunity to persuade her otherwise.

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Vinda could sense the smile gracing Albus’ features as well as his acceptance of her reminder, of her touch.

Had she suspected the contrary, she would have pulled back immediately. The last thing she wanted, after all, was to cause him further discomfort, disrespect his boundaries or humiliate him in a manner anything but conducive to her efforts at their core.

Instead, Albus’ quiet confession encouraged her to give him a gentle squeeze and direct her attention to his face.

“Your best has always been enough,” she reassured him, rubbing slow circles into the soft skin of his temples. “You have us for the rest. Before you protest: it has been a privilege to offer you just that. And it will always be.”

Along with Gellert, Albus had given her a home, a sanctuary where even when the rest of the world was in a dismal state, she was free to be herself, free to thrive, free to contribute to a cause most sacred to her.

Her gratitude to them both, together and as individuals, was inexhaustible and all-encompassing.

Albus felt the slight heat creep into his cheeks and Vindas gentle admonishment. Both Vinda and Gellert always called him out for his tendency to be self-depreciating. He was often barely conscious he was even doing it until one of them spoke up. It was something he knew he needed to work on but sometimes it was difficult when his own self loathing twisted so deeply within his gut that he felt like he was chocking on it. He was about to try and push aside her concern, turn his words into a feigned joke or two. But before he could Vinda had suddenly moved across to him and wrapped her arms around him from behind. He smiled softly at that, appreciating her gentle affection. "I...I know." It was something Gellert often reminded him about and Vinda now did so in Gellerts absence. He appreciated it, even though he also felt like he was letting them down each time he would slip up. But sometimes the self hatred became so loud in his own mind, the words tumbled out of their own accord. "I'll try. I can't help it sometimes." It was a quite confession

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“For still being self-deprecating, after everything you’ve accomplished? Why, I’m of the same mind, of course,” Vinda remarked with a knowing smile, for she was just as perplexed by it and had been so ever since Albus and her had grown to understand and care for one another.

Rising from her chair, she stepped towards Albus and embraced him from behind.

“You need to stop that,” she chided him with the utmost affection. After all, she had long come to regard the act of reminding him in Gellert’s absence a duty she refused to shy away from.

"I'm certain Gellert thinks I'm quite mad at times." Albus chuckled softly. He knew that his husband love and adored him but he wasn't so sure he always agreed with his optimism. He understood Gellert and Vinda and why they were as cynical as they were. But he refused to only see the bad in the world because he had seen so much of the good in people too. He needed to cling some hope and optimism at times, despite the world they were surrounded by. He smiled warmly at her words, hearing her sincerity. "Thank you Vinda. It's not always easy, to remain hopeful and seek the good in people." He had known so much evil. So much corruption. The Ministries were full of it. There were magical and non magical alike that performed the most wicked of atrocities. Perhaps there wasn't good in everyone but he couldn't afford to think everyone was bad because of some. He had made that mistake once, when he had held prejudice against all Muggles for the actions of two. He had been young then and he didn't want to be that person anymore.

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“And I do appreciate those efforts – as does Gellert, I am certain,” Vinda replied, warmth seeping into her expression and chest as she allowed herself to give a voice to sentiments she’d normally conceal from Albus’ discerning eyes.

All three of them had acquired an intimate familiarity with the very worst of wizardkind and non-wizards alike before their bodies had fully matured.

And yet, while Gellert and her had grown cynical to their core, there was a part of Albus that, despite all this remained innocent and untainted.

Just like Gellert, Vinda had grown to profoundly cherish that disarming sincerity and warmth, no matter how unnerving it could be to be coaxed into being authentic and vulnerable in return.

“Our society will always need a man like you,” she thus stated with unshakable conviction.

"I must maintain some optimism in these dark times. Especially around you and Gellert." Albus teased her lightly with a warm smile and a wink as he turned his attention to pour them some fresh wine. A third glass remained empty, awaiting Gellerts arrival. Not that he also couldn't be incredibly manipulative when it suited him, for he had recruited many a witch and wizard and sought to further their loyalty toward the cause, as well as himself and Gellert and now Vinda too. Abernathy. Queenie Goldstein. Percival Graves. They were each cogs in the wheels of their movement. Replaceable, certainly but useful. He and Gellert were powerful but it took more than mere magical prowess to make their revolution a success. They needed supporters and they were collecting them in significant numbers now.

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Christmas at Schloss Nurmengard

@regretismyconstantcompanion, continued from here: X

"Only that I fear there might be too much food that I won't be able to eat it all." Albus assured her with a soft chuckle. Vinda knew he had a sweet tooth and she ha certainly gone about spoiling him this holiday season with all kinds of delicious food. They'd already had a gathering of followers within the castle but now had retreated for a more private celebration. "As for Abernathy, I'm certain Gellert might petrify the man himself if he doesn't let him leave. He knows we're waiting on him and he was trying to get away from him when we slipped away."

“I’m pleased to hear that,” said Vinda, but Albus’ next words made her arch her brows. “Ever the optimist, I see. My prediction is that he’ll seize the opportunity to further nurture Abernathy’s dedication to the cause – and to him. I am loath to admit that I would have done the same.” Gellert had been the one to warn her not to succumb to the same vulnerable sentiments inspired by dates of subjective significance. And following his example, Vinda had soon begun to prey on that very weakness in others.

For that reason, she had spent the majority of the official festivities with the American Legilimens.

Having steeled her resolve, she announced, “If he doesn’t return within the next ten minutes, I’ll take over from him.”