Posh Raven

Outcasts Assembled (An AU X-Men roleplay)

Clementine sat on the mattress in her holding cell, a small orb of fiery plasma twirled in the palm of her hand. The warm glow of the flames cast dancing shadows on the cold, grey walls around her. She was mesmerized by the flickering light, a familiar comfort in the midst of chaos.

Ever since her powers appeared, she had always felt a certain draw to heat, an inexplicable connection that seemed to soothe her restless soul. It was as if the fiery energy resonated with something deep within her, offering solace in moments of uncertainty. Despite the fatigue weighing heavy on her eyelids, Clementine hadn't gotten much sleep, if any at all. For a brief moment, she had nodded off, her mind drifting into a restless slumber. But the sudden arrival of two officers, dragging a yelling and screaming man down the hallway to a holding cell opposite hers, jolted her awake once more.

The commotion echoed through the dimly lit corridor, mingling with the distant sounds of voices and footsteps. Clementine watched in silence as the officers wrestled with their unruly prisoner, the man's protests falling on deaf ears. the man's deranged screaming of blood and murder caused the young redheaded teenager to think back to her own first time she got caught.
She remembered how disappointed her brother Duncan was, while her other brother, Errol only added wood to the fire by defending their little sister's action of breaking one boy's arm and another's nose after they instigated some rather brutal teasing against a 16-year-old Clementine about her social stature and lack of parents.

The problem had been that one of the boy's parents was rather well-connected and wanted to sue, forcing Duncan to pull song strings putting the heat on him.

With the sound of shoes against concrete and a key unlocking her holding cell, Clementine was taken out of her reminiscing, the teenager knew one of her brothers or both, had arrived to pick her up, like a parent with their child after the first of school. The officer who stood in the doorway was an older gentleman and one of the few who every so often tried to offer Clementine help.

Clementine never took the officer's help.

Not because she hated him or anything of the like, she just didn't see the point, he couldn't give her, what she wanted...

"Hey there kiddo, your brothers are here to pick you up" explained the older officer watching Clementine get up from the bed and leave the holding cell.

The walk of shame down the hallways to the door leaving out of the holding cells was an all the well walk. At first, it bothered Clementine, but now it had almost become part of a routine for her. The officer led Clementine through another couple of doors until she found herself face to face with her brother, or a shitty-looking version of her brother, by the looks of it.

Oh, this was not going to be fun, so why not throw a bit of gasoline on, before heated lesions would hit her? "You look like shit" commented Clementine dryly, holding her oversized jacket under her arm with her hands shoved into her pockets. Looking from her oldest brother to Errol, the middle child of the three, a smile appeared despite the minor pain when smiling, as she gave Errol a tight hug. Letting go of her favourite brother, she glanced at Noa, having seen her a couple of times to know that her older brother trusted the woman. For a brief time, the teenager even thought they were banging.

Clementine faced her oldest brother again, "can we leave now?" She asked, crossing her arms.

Outcasts Assembled (An AU X-Men roleplay)

In the heart of the bustling metropolis of New York City, the pulse of urban life beats ceaselessly, echoing through the towering skyscrapers and bustling streets. The city that never sleeps thrums with energy, its vibrant spirit alive in every corner, from the iconic glow of Times Square to the tranquil beauty of Central Park. Amidst the cacophony of honking horns and bustling crowds, the skyline of Manhattan rises majestically, a testament to human ambition and ingenuity. The gleaming glass facades of corporate headquarters and the historic charm of brownstone apartments paint a rich tapestry against the backdrop of the cityscape.

Down below, the streets teem with life as diverse as the city itself. Business executives in tailored suits hurry alongside tourists snapping photos of iconic landmarks. Street vendors hawk their wares, filling the air with the aroma of hot pretzels and sizzling street food. Artists and musicians find inspiration on every corner, their creativity adding to the vibrant tapestry of urban life. Yet beneath the surface of this bustling metropolis lies a world of shadows and secrets, where danger lurks in the alleys and hidden corners of the city. In the underbelly of New York, criminal syndicates vie for control, their operations shrouded in darkness as they navigate the murky waters of power and influence.

As the sun sets over the bustling metropolis of New York City, the pulse of urban life takes on a different rhythm, weaving through the streets and alleyways of its diverse neighbourhoods. Beyond the gleaming skyscrapers of Manhattan, the city's lesser-known districts come alive with their own unique charm and character.

In these neighbourhoods, the skyline gives way to a patchwork of two-story, three-story, and four-story buildings, each bearing the marks of its own history and heritage. Here, the streets are narrower, and the sidewalks more intimate, inviting residents and visitors alike to explore the hidden gems tucked away in their midst. Businesses of all kinds line the streets, their facades adorned with colourful signs and bustling with activity. Mom-and-pop shops and family-owned restaurants share space with community centres and local markets, their presence a testament to the resilience and diversity of New York City's neighbourhoods.

As the day transitioned into night, the city took on a new energy, illuminated by the warm glow of streetlights and the neon signs of corner bodegas. The sounds of laughter and conversation spill out from open windows and doorways, blending with the music of passing cars and the occasional roar of a subway train. Amidst the hustle and bustle, residents gather on stoops and fire escapes, sharing stories and swapping tales late into the night. Children play in the streets, their laughter echoing off the brick facades of nearby buildings, while artists and musicians find inspiration in the vibrant energy of the city around them.

Yet even in these eclectic neighbourhoods, shadows linger in the alleyways and hidden corners, a reminder of the city's complex and sometimes tumultuous history. Here, amidst the hustle and bustle of everyday life, secrets are whispered and alliances forged, as the city's diverse inhabitants navigate the challenges and opportunities of urban living. Such inhabitant, a girl by the name of Clementine or Clem by her friends, moved unseen by the sleepless city as she walked with her hands in her worn and slightly oversized jacket. If you saw her, you might expect her on her way home, but nothing could be further from the truth. With a hood up, she made her way through the now mostly silent streets of the neighbourhood, only the distant siren and general city noise could be heard in the distance.

A near-full moon filled the sky, casting long shadows, and giving off a sense of spookiness. It didn't take long for Clementine to reach her destination, a corner in the poor part of the city, with many low-income residents.

"Took you long enough Clem?" commented a young man in his twenties. He had thick long dreadlocks, gathered in the back, a pierced lip, nose and eyebrows. He wore a worn grey sleeveless leather jacket on top of a black t-shirt with a few holes by the collar and a pair of skin-tight trousers. Beside him, were two other teenagers, both 17 years of age, turning 18 by the end of the month. One was a girl, dressing much like the young man with dreadlocks, however, she had styled her hair into a sidecut reaching her shoulder with greenish-purple tips.
The last member of the group was dressed more like he had just finished basketball training, adorning a long jersey shirt, baggy pants and tightly styled cornrows.

"Not my fault you guys are living in an even shittier part of the city" counted Clementine with a shrug as the group departed their little meeting corner. "No cap, she got you there Jamar" laughed the teen in the jersey shirt. "Last I checked, that also counted you, Kwamin," said Jamar, giving Kwamin a raised eyebrow.

"Bitch, I ain't embarrassed of my neighbourhood, I'm keeping it real" Kwamin flashed a smile he knew would get on Jamar's nerves.

After a few minutes of bickering back and forth, both men were silenced by Clementine, "Fucking hell, at least blow each other, and make it interesting, than this tired repeating bullshit". Both Jamar and Kwamin were almost dumbfounded by their friend's comment and just made a face of disgust, which earned a good laugh from Lira, the girl with a side cut.

It didn't take long before the group of friends found their way to an empty construction site, locked off for the day. Kneeling by the fence, Jamar placed his backpack in front of him pulling out a wirecutter and proceeded to cut it. Meanwhile, the rest kept watch, making sure they weren't getting caught since this wasn't exactly legal.

Before long, the group found themselves freely walking around the construction site, looking around the place. The construction site had been there for about a month or two and the first couple of white walls had been placed. One could argue, that constructing a white building in this part of the city, would be a very stupid idea, but then again, without stupid people, Clementine and her friends wouldn't get so clean and white canvas'.

One by one, each member of their little group, grabbed a spray can and began to paint all manner of artistic randomness on a wall that probably had cost a lot of money. Sadly, the fun was quickly interrupted when a sharp, loud and authoritarian voice pierced the air from another part of the fence.

"Police!"

In a flash, the group ran, dropping the spray cans and running for the small opening they had made in the fence. Unfortunately for them, the police were waiting for the group the moment they ran out of the small hole in the fence.

They managed to capture Jamar and Lira, but Kwamin and Clementine.

A female officer had grabbed hold of Kwamin and Clementine's jacket, Kwamin forced himself from the officer's grip while Clementine promptly wrestled out of her oversized jacket. Clementine and Kwamin bolted down an alleyway. All they heard was the female officer call, "hey, stop!", but Clementine only flipped them off.

As Clementine and Kwamin sprinted away from the construction site, their heartbeats thundering in their ears, the sound of police sirens filled the air behind them. The flashing lights illuminated the dimly lit streets as they weaved through alleys and dodged obstacles in their path.

The chase intensified as police cars raced after them, their headlights casting long shadows against the buildings lining the narrow streets. Clementine could feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins, fueling her every stride as she pushed herself to her limits.

Kwamin followed close behind, his breath coming in ragged gasps as they cut through a small park, thinking they escaped the officers. Sadly, once they reappeared on the other side of the park, both Clementine and Kwamin were tackled to the ground rather harshly by two officers. Despite struggling fiercely and yelling some rather colourful curses, both teens were taken down to the station.

~Earlier in the day~

"Hello, Mr. Fraser. Hello, this is the principal of Rowling College, I'm calling because this is the fifth time this month Miss Fraser hasn't shown up to her classes. Yes, I know. No, we weren't able to contact her. I'm afraid if she keeps skipping out on her classes any more, she will be dropped from our college."

~Present day, late at night at the Police station~

"Hello, Mr. Fraser. This is Officer Jones, yes, we have your sister... What she's charged with? Breaking and entering, vandalism, fleeing and eluding an officer and resisting arrest. You too, see you tomorrow."

Clementine was sitting in a holding cell, a rather familiar holding cell. She had a few scratches on her face, after getting tackled to the asphalt. Honestly, it didn't hurt nearly as much, as the first few times she had her struggles with the cops of New York. The holding cell was mostly temporary though and was only there the keep her from running off and causing more vandalism.
Mainly, Clementine was waiting for her brother or brothers to pick her up like they usually did.. Clementine rolled her eyes, knowing she was in for a lesson about all manners of bullshit from her brother Duncan. Touching her scraped lip, she winced, it hurt a bit, even after getting her scrapes cleaned.

Outcasts Assembled (An AU X-Men roleplay)

General
Full name: Clementine Fraser
Age: 18 years
POB (Place of Birth): United States of America
Species: Human (Mutant)
Nationality: American
Ethnicity: Scottish-American
Affiliations: Corleone Family
Relatives: Giovanni Corleone (father), Aileen Fraser (mother), Errol Travis Acosta (older half-brother), Duncan Fraser (big-brother)

Physical Description
Hair color and style: Wavy hair that is a bright shade of red. Her hair is thick and has a lot of volume, and it is styled in a way that is both casual and flattering. Her hair is parted in the middle, and it falls in soft waves around her face. She has long, side-swept bangs that frame her eyes. Sometimes she puts her wild mane into a messy bun, but that's mostly when she's home.
Skin Tone: Fair complexion
Eye Color: Pale blue
Height: 5′6″ (1.68 m)
Weight: 110 lbs (49.9 kg)
Build: Lithe
Other features: (Scars/tattoos/piercings, visible mutations, or any other feature. if applicable)
Everyday clothing style: Clementine is usually wearing a black blouse with a white collar and cuffs. The blouse is untucked and slightly wrinkled. She is also wearing a pair of black pants with a belt. The pants are slightly baggy and have a low waist. She is wearing a pair of black boots with heels. The boots are scuffed and worn.
She is also typically wearing a black choker around her neck with a pair of silver earrings and rings.

Biography:
Born into the shadowy underworld of organized crime, Clementine Fraser's life began with tragedy and turmoil. Her birth shrouded in mystery and darkness, claimed the life of her mother, casting a long shadow over her tumultuous upbringing. Clementine's arrival into the world was marred by the loss of her mother, a devastating blow that haunted her father, Giovanni Corleone, which he never really managed to overcome.

From her earliest days, Clementine was burdened with the weight of her father's hatred and blame. Giovanni, a formidable figure in the criminal underworld, saw in his daughter not a blessing, but a curse—the spitting image of the woman he had lost. Reminders of her mother's presence echoed through the corridors of their home, Giovanni's disdain for his daughter a constant presence in Clementine's life.

Despite his animosity towards her, Giovanni saw in Clementine the potential heir to his criminal empire—a legacy left vacant by her oldest brother's departure to the school for the gifted. Duncan Fraser's abandonment was a bitter pill for their father to swallow, his disappointment in his eldest son fueling his determination to mold Clementine into the successor he so desperately desired.

Yet, Giovanni's efforts to groom his daughter were marked by cruelty and indifference. Clementine, bearing the physical resemblance of her late mother, endured his harsh treatment in the hopes of earning even a sliver of his affection. Her world shifted once more when, at the age of seven, she met her second brother, Errol Travis Acosta—a half-sibling taken in by Giovanni at the tender age of thirteen.

With Errol's arrival, Giovanni's focus shifted entirely, his attention consumed by the promise he saw in his newfound protégé. Clementine, once the object of her father's ambitions, was cast aside and forgotten, left to fend for herself in the shadows of her family's legacy.

At sixteen, Giovanni's rejection became final as he cast Clementine out of his home and his life. Alone and adrift, she found an unlikely saviour in Duncan Fraser, her estranged brother, who provided her with a meager lifeline—a modest apartment, sustenance, and a sense of stability amidst the chaos of their fractured family.

Now, as she navigates the treacherous waters of her own identity and the legacy of her family's dark past, Clementine is faced with choices that will define her future. Will she succumb to the shadows that threaten to consume her, or will she rise above the darkness to forge her own path in a world fraught with danger and deceit?

Personality
Clementine Fraser possesses a multifaceted personality shaped by her tumultuous upbringing and the complexities of her family dynamics. Despite society labelling her as a delinquent due to her occasional truancy and involvement in petty crimes, Clementine's inner self reflects a mixture of rebellion, resilience, and a yearning for familial acceptance.

She exudes an aura of defiance, often pushing against societal norms and authority figures, yet beneath this rebellious exterior lies a conflicted soul. Clementine harbours a deep-seated desire for her father's approval and attention, despite his resentment towards her for her mother's death. This longing for validation fuels her actions, leading her to engage in questionable activities in an attempt to win her father's favour. Despite her involvement in petty crimes, Clementine maintains a moral compass, refraining from actions that could cause serious harm to others. She possesses a sense of empathy and compassion, particularly towards her brother Duncan, whom she admires and respects despite their strained familial relationships.

Clementine's personality is characterized by a fierce temper, which is a side effect of her mutant gene. This temperamental nature can cause her to lose control or slip up in her management of her plasma manipulation powers, especially when her emotions run high. The stronger the emotions, the greater the risk of her losing control if she's not careful. Despite her and her brother's strained relationship, Clementine holds a begrudging respect for her brother Duncan even though she might not show it very often. Their interactions are often marked by tension, with Duncan frequently needing to bail out and lecture Clementine for her actions. In response, Clementine pushes back, viewing Duncan as an annoying older brother whose attempts at guidance feel overbearing and intrusive.

Despite their differences, there's an underlying bond between them, born out of shared experiences and familial ties. While Clementine may resent Duncan's attempts to steer her onto a more path from their father, she ultimately values his presence in her life, recognizing his efforts to keep her out of trouble, even if she doesn't always show it. Their relationship is a complex mixture of frustration, loyalty, and begrudging affection, reflecting the nuanced dynamics within their family.

Additionally, Clementine has another brother, Errol, the middle sibling, who despite his distance, formed a somewhat close relationship. She often sees him as the "cool" brother and often asks to join her brother's gang yet receives a no every time because deep down Errol knows she only wants to join out of an attempt to gain their father's attention.

Morality:
Clementine Fraser's morality is complex and heavily influenced by her tumultuous upbringing. Society would categorize her as a delinquent due to her occasional truancy and involvement in petty crimes with her friends. However, beneath this rebellious exterior lies a conflicted soul. Despite lacking a positive father figure in her life and facing her father's resentment for her mother's death, Clementine yearns for his approval and attention, much like her half-brother received when growing up. However, she surprisingly doesn't harbour any ill will towards her brother and often sees him as the "cool" sibling in the family.

Despite her involvement in petty crimes, Clementine's moral compass remains intact. She doesn't harbour ill intentions toward others and refrains from actions that could cause serious harm. Her desire for her father's approval may drive her to engage in questionable activities, but she's not inherently malicious. Deep down, Clementine wrestles with the disparity between her longing for familial acceptance and her innate sense of right and wrong.

In times of trouble, Clementine's big sister, Duncan, plays a crucial yet complicated role in her life. Duncan doesn't particularly like her family, but she still feels a sense of duty towards Clementine, often bailing her out after she gets arrested. This act of sibling support adds a layer of complexity to Clementine's morality, as it underscores the importance of familial obligations amidst the strained relationships within her family.

Clementine's father, Corleone, from her birth, groomed her into becoming his heir to his criminal kingdom, since Clementine's oldest brother left to get away from his family. While Corleone harbours a deep hatred for Clementine (as he sees her as having killed his wife), he still groomed her because he had no one else to take up the mantle as heir. However, his grooming of his daughter Clementine was out of desperation more than an ounce of pride. When Clementine's half-brother came into the picture when she was 7 years old, Corleone was happy to discard his wife's killer (daughter) and pay no attention to her.

Mutations: Plasma Manipulation
Potential Mutant Power Level: Omega
General description: Clementine Fraser possesses the extraordinary ability to manipulate plasma, a superheated state of matter consisting of charged particles, thanks to her mutant gene.

Her plasma manipulation abilities are incredibly versatile, allowing her to generate, control, and project plasma with remarkable precision and power. She can create intense plasma blasts, construct protective barriers, and manipulate the temperature of her surroundings with ease. In correlation to her control over plasma, Clementine's mutant gene gifts her with the remarkable ability to absorb solar radiation. Exposure to sunlight enhances the potency of her abilities, providing her with a renewable source of energy to fuel her plasma manipulation. The intensity of sunlight directly correlates with the strength of her powers, allowing her to reach unbelievable performance under clear skies and direct sunlight.

What sets Clementine apart is her unique capacity to absorb the sun's radiation with potentially no limit. Clementine's mutant gene grants her an almost boundless capacity to draw upon the sun's power. This limitless reserve of energy ensures that she can maintain her plasma manipulation abilities at peak levels indefinitely, regardless of the duration or intensity of her exposure to sunlight.

However, while sunlight amplifies Clementine's abilities, her plasma manipulation remains independent of external factors. Her mutant gene grants her the innate ability to generate and control plasma at will, regardless of environmental conditions. This independence allows her to utilize her powers even in the absence of sunlight.

Limits & Weaknesses:
Emotional Control:
Weakness Description: Emotional Control refers to Clementine's ability to regulate her emotions and maintain focus while utilizing her plasma manipulation abilities. However, strong emotions can destabilize her control over her powers, leading to unintended consequences.
When overwhelmed by intense emotions, Clementine may struggle to control the intensity of her plasma manipulation abilities, resulting in erratic or uncontrollable bursts of plasma energy.

Sun Absorbtion:
Weakness Description: Clementine Fraser's unique capacity to absorb the sun's radiation with potentially no limit, does have a sort of limit, in the sense that her own body has implemented mental blocks, to keep Clementine safe from going nuclear. Without proper guidance and training, Clementine may never learn her full potential and reach her supercharged form or ascended form. Exceeding these limits without proper training can lead to exhaustion or even internal damage causing bleeding from her nose, eyes or ears.

Dusk Deterioration:
Weakness Description: Clementine's powers are intrinsically tied to the sun, drawing strength from its radiant energy. However, in the absence of sunlight or prolonged periods of darkness, her abilities wane, leaving her significantly weakened. If Clementine goes without exposure to sunlight for more than 48 hours, her plasma manipulation becomes increasingly difficult to control, and her powers diminish until she can once again bask in the sun's rejuvenating rays.

Hydro-Disruption:
Weakness Description: Hydro-disruption refers to your character's vulnerability to water-based attacks or environments, which can disrupt or weaken her plasma manipulation abilities.
Exposure to water, particularly in large quantities, can interfere with Clementine's ability to generate and control her plasma effectively. The presence of water molecules in high quantity will disrupt the ionization process necessary for her plasma manipulation, diminishing the intensity or precision of her powers.

Outcasts Assembled (An AU X-Men roleplay)

A Wizard's Shadow

Nerissa watched the unfolding chaos with a twisted grin of sadistic delight, her dark eyes twinkled with a malicious glee that sent shivers down the spines of those around her. As Percy attempted to defuse the situation, her voice became almost hissing as she held her wand raised at the four figures.

"What are you doing? Kill them!" she screeched, her words dripping with venom as she gestured emphatically with her wand, her gaze locked onto Percy with an intensity that brooked no argument as multicoloured sparks exploded in the hallway. The two remaining, that Percy hadn't taken on, became more than busy with the dark witch, as she kept them from helping their comrades in battle.

With a frighteningly fast reaction, she flicked her wand with absolute precision, unleashing a barrage of hexes and charms, her movements fluid and precise as she danced amidst the chaos with a manic energy that was both exhilarating and terrifying to behold. Each spell was imbued with a dark laughing crackle, a testament to the sadistic joy she took in the heat of battle.

Nerissa's movement was so incredibly fluid, like water but with an intensity like fire. Her long, jet-black hair whipped around her as she twisted and turned, her form a blur of dark magic and lethal precision. It was as if she were a force of nature unleashed upon the unsuspecting foes, her primal instincts driving her forward with an unstoppable ferocity.

With each spell she cast, the air crackled with dark energy, the very atmosphere around her pulsating with her malevolent power. It was a sight to behold, a dark symphony of chaos and destruction orchestrated by the hand of a masterful witch who revelled in the chaos that had unfolded before her.

And as Percy's desperate plea echoed in her ears, urging her to hold the line against their relentless adversaries, Nerissa's lips curled into a savage grin, her eyes blazing with a whirlwind of a void that would swallow up the light.

With a flick of her wand, she disarmed one of the two she fought and was about to turn her attention to the second, but as Percy crashed into a small trophy cabinet, on the other side of the hallway, Nerissa's focus briefly shifted to the Frenchmen. Their Unbreakable Vow made his survival, her survival as much as she hated that. Seeing Percy thrown harshly into the cabinet, was enough to briefly distract the dark witch. Enough so, that the second opponent took a chance and went for the door to Topsy only to witness a green flash illuminating the entire hallway and Nerissa's face.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Slamming into the door with his shoulder, the killing curse struck true as the now limbless body crashed into the room where Topsy was. The door's hinges had buckled from the weight and partially came loose while the body of a dead man slammed like a ragdoll on the floor.

In a snarl, the one that had been disarmed held his wand again and returned his own killing curse at the dark witch in a fit of rage. "You will pay for that!" he screamed, only to watch Nerissa with a lightning-fast reaction pull a crescent hallway table between her and the killing curse, shattering the table. The only thing he heard was the high-pitched crackling laughter from the dark-haired woman.

Nerissa's grin twisted into a sneer, her dark eyes flashing with manic hatred as her last opponent dared to use the killing curse on her, his Better in every way of the sense. "Tell me where my brother is!" she spat, venom dripping from each syllable like acid. "My brother wouldn't waste his time with mere pawns for this. Where did you meet him?"

Her voice crackled with an unsettling blend of hatred and twisted pride, a testament to the complex web of emotions that bound her to her treacherous sibling. "How pathetic, did my dear brother really think you were enough to kill me. ME?!" she continued, her tone laced with bitter resentment. "Let me guess, you were happy to spill your blood if it meant earning his favour."

With a flick of her wand, she unleashed another curse at the downed but still moving man. Her movements were fueled by a potent mixture of fury and determination. "But he underestimates me," she hissed. "I may be trapped in this wretched bond, but I will not be defeated so easily. Not by him. And not by his fucking lapdogs!" Nerissa's high-pitched manic voice pierced the air, her wild eyes ablaze with fury as she screeched a curse:

"CRUCIO!"

In the temporary respite provided by Percy's charm, the corridor echoed with the agonized cries of the helpless man, whose only recourse was to writhe in torment. Nerissa's hatred burned brighter than ever, a consuming fire that fueled her every action in pursuit of her brother.

Her piercing dark eyes had turned almost black as she walked with fastened steps over to where the man was lying and kicked the man's wand away. She kneeled in a flash, grabbing the man harshly, and digging her nails into his cheeks as she dropped her curse over the man.

"Does my dear brother think, this was enough to kill me, HUH?!" She screeched, not even giving the man a chance to respond. "CRUCIO!" She screamed again, letting go of the man's face with her hand, just to watch the little lapdog's pained screams silence her own deafening voices clawing inside her mind.

"WHERE IS MY BROTHER HIDING, YOU FILTH!"

A Wizard's Shadow

Nerissa opened her mouth, ready to retort with her trademark sharp wit. Still, when Percy mentioned they would uncover information about her treacherous brother, she let out an exaggerated sigh and leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms in a sulky manner. "Ugh, fine, you're no fun," she muttered under her breath, clearly displeased.

She rolled her eyes dramatically at Percy's refusal to use the Imperius Curse. "Percy, such a killjoy," she remarked in a tone that conveyed both disappointment and frustration, her eye-roll a perfect display of her impatience with his principles.

As Percy scanned the crowd, Nerissa seemed utterly disinterested in the mundane antics of the other patrons. She sat in a bored slouch, occasionally glancing at her perfectly manicured nails as if they held more fascination than the show. When Percy mentioned the group of four, she shrugged nonchalantly. "Acquaintances? Hardly. But it seems we might have some uninvited guests for our evening's entertainment," she remarked with a sly smirk.

When Topsy's gaze met theirs, Nerissa responded with a sly smile, leaning back in her chair in a relaxed, almost nonchalant manner. She blew Topsy a kiss with her sly smile and purred, her dark eyes glittering with mischief.

As the grand finale approached and the applause erupted, Nerissa reclined in her chair, her posture exuding boredom. With one leg casually crossed over the other, she leisurely extended her fingers, their tips gently and meticulously cleaning beneath her manicured black-coloured nails. She seemed utterly unimpressed by the theatrics unfolding on the stage as if the performance were nothing more than a mudblood distraction.

When Percy handed her the invitation, she spared it a disinterested glance, her dark eyes flitting across the words with an air of indifference. The prospect of visiting the backstage world held little allure for her at the moment, overshadowed only because the woman backstage held information about her brother's operation.

Nerissa locked eyes with the bunny girl, her own gaze steady and unyielding. In response to the woman's piercing stare, her arched eyebrow gave a hint of subtle amusement. A condescending smile danced upon her lips as she prepared her retort.

"My, my," she cooed, her voice dripping with mock sweetness, "that icy glare of yours is positively enchanting. I suppose it's useful for chilling drinks," she mused, her tone filled with feigned admiration, "but I do hope you don't turn the entire theatre into a frozen wasteland with your frigid attitude."

With a dismissive wave, she added, "Ta-ta, mudblood."

While her words carried the veneer of mockingly sweet sarcasm, her eyes told a different story. They had transformed into dangerous, bottomless pools of black, exuding a predatory intensity that pierced through the air like a dagger.

Nerissa's predatory stare remained unwavering, trailing the bunny girl's every move until the woman almost seemed to vanish into the very scenery of the theatre itself.

As Percy handed her the wand, Nerissa's reaction was far from casual. She accepted it with a sense of eagerness that bordered on greed. Her long, delicate fingers wrapped around the wand's sleek, polished surface, caressing it with an almost primal hunger.

To Nerissa, her wand wasn't merely a tool; it was an extension of herself, a lifeline to the magical world that had been cruelly snatched away during her years in the nightmarish confines of Azkaban. As her fingers traced the familiar contours, she could feel a connection rekindling, a long-lost part of her identity returning.

The dark glint in her eyes, which typically carried a sense of sinister intent and malevolent superiority, now hinted at the profound depths of her attachment to this instrument of her magic. It was as though a missing piece of her soul had been restored. For a fleeting moment, a rare vulnerability surfaced beneath her cold aristocratic exterior, but it vanished almost as quickly as it had appeared."

When Percy's words reached her, a condescending smile played on her lips. She nodded slowly, the corners of her mouth curling into a sly yet confident smile. "Of course, Perceval," she replied with a purring tone, her honey-brown dark eyes locking onto his in a way that left him uncertain of her true intentions. With a flirtatious tilt of her head and a sway of her hips, she leaned in slightly, her finger lightly stroking under Percy's chin before she smoothly skipped past him, heading backstage to Miss Thompson, leaving him to wonder just how far she'd bend to his requested desires.

A Wizard's Shadow

Nerissa reclined gracefully in her seat, exuding an air of elegant boredom as her eyes lazily roamed over the extravagant show unfolding before them. Her voice carried a subtle tinge of disinterest as she replied to Percy's remark about drinks.

"Oh, do spare me the tedious tales of ancient wizards and witches and their pitiable choices of Mudblood-made alcohol," she retorted with taunting disdain. "Wine, butterbeer, it matters little to me. Mundane libations for mundane palates."

Her gaze returned to the stage, where Topsy continued her daring act. The showgirl, adorned in a provocative uniform with playful rabbit ears, executed her routine with precision. Yet, to Nerissa, the lengths Mudbloods went to experience a semblance of "magic" were pathetic and laughable. In her eyes, it all amounted to a mundane display of theatrics, a performance aimed at appeasing magicless individuals, offering them fleeting moments of joy in their dreary lives.

"The Mistress of Mayhem, they call her," Nerissa muttered mockingly, her voice dripping with derision. "A title as shallow as the puddles on the street. Where is the true magic, the kind that can twist minds and shatter souls? This performance is but a sideshow for simple minds, nothing more."

Resting her head on her fist, her elbow gracefully resting on the armrest, a twisted grin slowly spread across her face. "Tell me, Percy, dear," she purred, her tone suggestive of mischief and challenge. "Wouldn't it be far more thrilling and entertaining if this act were to go mess up? I dare say it lacks the element of danger, that delicious edge of uncertainty. Imagine the succulent chaos, the fear, and the sheer desperation in all the Mudbloods if her little trick were to backfire."

Her dark eyes sparkled with a wolfish gleam, and her tone took on a twisted cheerfulness, undercut with the sinister undertone of her desires. "Come on, Percy-wercy, prove you're not just the Ministry's lapdog that has a stick up his ass like all the other little doggies, and knows how to have a bit of fun" she taunted, her grin widening into a mischievous expression. "Add a subtle twist to her routine, just a bit of "suggetive magic" to spice things up. Imagine the fun we could have, you could make her do anything you want."

With a honeyed whisper that dripped with a hint of seduction, she leaned in closer, her breath caressing his ear, "It'll be our little secret, Perceval." Her voice carried a flirtatious undertone, thick with tantalizing innuendo that could send shivers down one's spine. Her dark eyes locked onto his, holding his gaze captive as if to convey a world of unspoken possibilities.

Her lips curved into a sly smile, hinting at the forbidden desires that lurked beneath her composed exterior. Nerissa toyed with her own intentions, leaving Percy unsure whether she meant the use of the Imperius Curse or something much more intimate and personal. The tantalizing invitation was there, waiting for Percy to interpret her words and embrace the thrill of the unknown.

A Wizard's Shadow

As Percy took a firm hold of Nerissa's arm and guided her through the corridor, her eyes roamed over the elderly pair standing nearby, their expressions filled with curiosity and judgment. Nerissa's lips curled into a wicked smile, her voice dripping with a hedonistic implication as she couldn't resist the urge. "Nothing like a good rumble!" she sing-songed, her words laced with childish carelessness. She revelled in the shock that crossed their faces and couldn't care less what some filthy mudblood thought about her as she knew her remark had struck a nerve. It pleased her to assert her present, even in the most mundane of encounters.

That was how they had always worked, her brother and herself, bound by a shared history of pain and survival. From their early days, their childhood had been marred by a relentless storm of sadness and despair. Their father, a man consumed by his own demons, inflicted beatings and spewed venomous words at young Nerissa, leaving scars that ran deeper than any physical wounds.

But in the midst of that darkness, her brother became her guardian, a shield against their father's wrath. He protected her with unwavering determination, shielding her from the brunt of their father's abuse. Through his acts of defiance and sacrifice, he forged a bond with Nerissa that transcended their troubled upbringing.

Their heated arguments, although tumultuous, were born out of a shared pain and a desire to break free from the chains of their traumatic past. In those moments, their voices clashed like thunder, but their bond remained unbreakable. However, on that fateful day, the day when the Aurors cornered them, her brother made a choice that shattered their fragile equilibrium. In a cruel twist of fate, he sacrificed her like a lamb for slaughter, leaving her to face the consequences alone.

Nerissa will never forget those final words he uttered, right before he vanished from her sight. The realization pierced her heart with a feeling of deep sorrow, profound grief for the loss of the protector she had relied on for so long. In his absence, she felt a profound sense of abandonment and a lingering ache for the childhood they had both endured. Haunted by the memories of their shared pain and her brother's desertion, Nerissa's path took a darker turn. The wounds of their past now reopened, fueling her hunger for power and her thirst for vengeance. She would make her brother understand the depth of her sorrow, the weight of his betrayal.

As she walked the path of darkness alone, the echoes of her childhood sorrows still lingered. But instead of finding solace, the depth of her sorrow twisted into a thorned hatred for her brother. The wounds of their past, once tender and raw, festered with resentment and betrayal. Every painful memory, every act of protection turned manipulation, fueled her burning rage. The love she had once held for her brother transformed into a twisted desire for retribution. No longer would she seek his understanding; she would make him suffer the same anguish she had endured.

With an air of twisted satisfaction, she continued walking alongside Percy, her gaze fixed ahead. The insult lingered in the air, a reminder of her unapologetic nature and her disdain for those she deemed beneath her. She relished in the discomfort she had caused, delighting in the power she held to provoke and unsettle those around her. Nerissa's eyes gleamed with a mix of cruel amusement and predatory anticipation as they made their way to their destination. She revelled in the chaos and unpredictability of the situation, her mind already racing with possibilities and schemes. She was determined to seize every opportunity in this twisted dance they had been thrust into, savouring the intoxicating blend of danger and desire that swirled around them.

As Percy inquired about the use of actual magic by Abigail Thompson, Nerissa's amusement deepened. She leaned back in her seat, crossing her legs and fixing him with a smouldering gaze. "Oh, dear Percy," she purred, her voice dripping with a seductive undertone. "Magic can take many forms, can't it? Sometimes the most dangerous and thrilling magic is the one that hides in plain sight."

She let the implication hang in the air, a knowing smirk playing at the corners of her lips. However, her infectious smirk quickly faded as a wave of revulsion washed over her. "Trusting filthy mudbloods with the art of mixology? How utterly revolting," she added, her tone filled with a toxic superiority that oozed contempt towards everyone around them. "But, by all means, indulge yourself with their filth." And just like that, the honied words that had been spun with such velvet passion showed a glimpse of the venomous darkness that lurked beneath the surface. Nerissa revelled in the duality of her nature, relishing in the power she held to charm and cut, to entice and repulse. In this twisted dance of seduction and disdain, she was the conductor, orchestrating a symphony of manipulation and cruelty.

With both legs crossed, she placed them up on the table in front of them leaning her head on top of her fist as her elbow rested on the armrest.

The room itself exuded an air of opulence and extravagance. Bathed in warm, golden hues, the walls were adorned with luxurious tapestries that depicted scenes of ancient myth and wonder. Soft, ambient lighting cast a magical glow, adding an ethereal ambience to the space. The stage, expansive and meticulously designed, commanded attention at the centre of the room. Its polished wooden floor reflected the light, creating a mesmerizing shimmer. Intricate patterns and symbols adorned the stage, hinting at the arcane secrets that would be unveiled within its confines.

A backdrop of cascading curtains in deep shades of red, velvety and alluring, added a touch of theatrical flair. They whispered tales of hidden realms and uncharted territories, captivating the imagination of all who gazed upon them. The stage itself was flanked by imposing pillars, their surfaces embellished with intricate carvings of mystical creatures and magical sigils. These pillars seemed to possess a life of their own, emanating an aura of ancient power and mysticism.

An array of colourful and ornate props, carefully arranged, awaited their moment to shine. Gleaming crystal balls, elegant top hats, decks of cards adorned with intricate artwork, and various other tools of illusion were strategically placed, ready to be woven into the tapestry of the performance. As the audience settled into their seats, anticipation filled the air. The room hummed with palpable energy, and shared excitement for the wonders that were about to unfold. The stage was set, the room alive with the promise of extraordinary feats and captivating illusions.

In this enchanting Las Vegas stage, reality blurred and dreams came to life. It was a space where ordinary boundaries faded away, and the extraordinary took centre stage, leaving the audience spellbound and awestruck.

A Wizard's Shadow

The Azkaban prisoner's dark predatory gaze remained fixated on her newly bound partner, a wicked glimmer burning within her eyes. A cruel smirk etched its way across her lips, forming a twisted canvas of satisfaction. Despite the fact that she had been shackled to serve as nothing more than a servant to this lapdog of the ministry, the horror reflected in his eyes painted a vivid portrait of her triumph.

As Percy strode toward Killian, Nerissa's smile vanished, instantly recognizing the presence of the bounty hunter. The dark witch's predatory gaze never wavered, locked onto the bounty hunter's form with an intensity that pierced through the very depths of his soul. If glares could manifest into deadly weapons, she would have torn his very essence asunder a thousandfold.

It had been no secret that Killian had become one of Nerissa's most loathed enemies since that fateful day. While her brother held the pinnacle of her endless reservoir of hatred, Killian had managed to claw his way to a close second position in the ranks of individuals she vowed to unravel and reduce to mere fragments of their former selves.

As she was forcibly dragged toward an open doorway, her gaze emitted poisonous daggers, emanating from the depths of her bottomless dark eyes. Each piercing glare held a promise of retribution, a silent declaration of the torments she yearned to inflict upon those who dared to cross her path.

When Percy finally stepped into the room housing the portkey, a scene greeted him that mirrored the one before. The same six Aurors, their wands gripped tightly within their hands, formed an informal circle around Nerissa Wyrmstone. A sense of tension hung in the air, their gazes darting warily between the witch and their newly arrived ally. However, amidst the familiar faces, there stood a seventh Auror, assigned with the sole task of holding Nerissa's wand until Percy's arrival, a precautionary measure to ensure control and security in the presence of such formidable power.

And then there was Nerissa. Standing at the heart of the makeshift informal circle, Nerissa Wyrmstone, once a prisoner of Azkaban, had swiftly shed the vestiges of her recent confinement. Though her time outside the notorious prison had been brief, a remarkable metamorphosis had taken place. The woman who now stood before them was a stark departure from her former self, exuding an air of nonchalant detachment.

Having cast off the weariness and desolation that had plagued her in captivity, Nerissa appeared utterly disinterested, as if she had grown weary of waiting for Percy and the mission they were begrudgingly bound to undertake—to halt the actions of her older brother. Her transformation spoke volumes, despite the brevity of her newfound freedom.

Her pale complexion, once drained by the oppressive atmosphere of Azkaban, now possessed a vibrant lustre. A renewed vitality seemed to pulse through her, revitalizing her features. Where once her countenance had borne the weight of her past transgressions, it now showcased a resolute strength and an understated elegance.

Nerissa's long, dark locks cascaded down her back in luxurious waves, a striking contrast to the dishevelled and unkempt state they had been in during her imprisonment. The freedom she now savoured breathed life into her hair, infusing it with a radiant sheen. Obsidian strands tumbled gracefully around her face, framing her sharp and captivating features with an air of casual confidence.

And then there were her eyes, a captivating transformation in themselves. Once veiled in darkness, they now gleamed with a warm and captivating hue—honied dark brown. They held an allure that was both captivating and unsettling, drawing others in while subtly warning of the enigmatic depths that lay beneath her composed exterior. The change in her eyes reflected a rekindled warmth and a reclamation of her humanity, as if the burden of her past had been partially lifted, allowing her true essence to shine through.

Adorned in a meticulously chosen ensemble, Nerissa embodied an undeniable presence that blended authority with a touch of rebellious elegance. Her attire, a stark departure from the torn and smudged uniform she had worn in Azkaban, now bespoke her newfound agency and determination. Clad in a Victorian-inspired gown, she exuded an aura of mystery and power. The predominantly black fabric enveloped her form, accentuating her statuesque figure, while subtle hints of dark purple added depth and intrigue to her appearance.

The gothic aesthetic of the gown was enhanced by delicate lace detailing, which danced across the fabric, lending an ethereal and delicate beauty to her ensemble. Ruffled sleeves cascaded gracefully down her arms, a testament to her restored grace and poise. The corseted bodice emphasized her commanding presence, symbolizing the strength that now coursed through her veins.

Completing her ensemble, long black gloves extended to her upper arms, exuding a sense of regal elegance and a hint of mystique. These gloves, once utilized to conceal her actions and intentions, now served as an outward manifestation of her mastery over her own destiny and her unwavering resolve.

Yet, despite her remarkable transformation and newfound presence, Nerissa managed to exude an air of boredom. She nonchalantly rested her hand on her hip, leaning to the side, casually checking her nails, as if the imminent mission held little interest for her.

As Percy stepped into the room where the portkey awaited, she casually flicked her gaze toward Percy, her tone tinged with a touch of derision. "Well, if the Ministry's prized lapdog is done dawdling, perhaps we can finally get a move on." Her voice carried a mix of boredom and an underlying insult, suggesting that Percy's presence was more of an inconvenience than an asset.

The six Aurors, attuned to Nerissa's every movement, remained on high alert, their stance poised and ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. Their eyes darted between Percy and Nerissa, silently communicating their readiness to intervene should the dark witch attempt any treacherous act.

As Percy approached, the seventh Auror, his gaze unwavering, extended Nerissa's wand to him with a measured caution, ensuring to maintain a firm grip. The exchange was conducted with precision, conveying an unspoken understanding of the dangerous forces at play.

Nerissa, ever observant, kept her predatory gaze fixed on Percy, her lips curling into a sardonic smirk. "Don't get any ideas, Perceval," she taunted, the use of his full name laced with a hint of disdain. "I may be bound by this... alliance, but I assure you, I'm not one to underestimate."

Her words hung in the air, a veiled reminder of the potent threat she posed, both as a dark witch herself and as the sister of a notorious figure during the Second Wizarding War. The Aurors, cognizant of the danger, maintained their unwavering vigilance, prepared to quell any act of defiance from Nerissa with decisive force.

Once Percy held on Nerissa's wand tightly in his grasp he would be a naive fool if he didn't know the risks involved in this mission with Nerissa by his side, the delicate balance he had to maintain with a formidable ally who was equally likely to be his greatest adversary. Once Percy was ready, the seventh Auror, a veteran of the second wizarding war, nodded more to himself than anyone else, "Once you're both ready, grab on to the port key and it will take you to Las Vegas where you will meet with Miss Abigail Thompson." explained the older Auror.

The room bristled with tension as Percy and Nerissa, bound by circumstance and a shared objective, prepared to embark on a perilous journey. The six Aurors stood ready, their instincts honed, a testament to the gravity of the situation. With every passing moment, the stakes grew higher, and the dance between trust and caution began—a delicate balance that would define their dangerous alliance.

Before seizing the portkey, Nerissa's lips curled into a sly smile as her gaze lingered upon the assembled Aurors. With a hint of mischief in her eyes, she couldn't resist the urge to deliver a biting insult. "Look at you all," she taunted, her voice laced with subtle disdain. "A group of brave wizards, ready to stand guard like a common street dog with a bone. Well, except for you, my dear seventh wheel. Perhaps you should stick to holding wands and leave the real work to the professionals. It's for your own safety, of course." Her words dripped with veiled mockery, leaving a lingering sting in the air.

Their transportation by portkey happened so fast that neither Percy or Nerissa got to hear what the seventh auror said, but it most likely wasn't kind words that were cursed from the older man's lips.

As they materialized in the cramped confines of the janitor's closet, Nerissa couldn't help but revel in the closeness between herself and Percy. Her body pressed intimately against his, their proximity igniting a wicked fire within her. She could sense his tension, his unease, and she delighted in playing with his desires.

Leaning in, her voice low and filled with a seductive undertone, she whispered into his ear, her breath hot against his skin. "Oh, Percy, we find ourselves in such a deliciously tight situation, don't we?" Her voice carried a hint of primal desire, twisted and tinged with a dark edge. "I wonder, would you like to be one of my conquests? To taste the forbidden fruit and revel in the thrill of surrender?" she asked, sensually caressing Percy's lower jaw with a gloved finger.

Her words hung in the air, charged with an intoxicating blend of dominance and vulnerability. Nerissa relished in the power she held, knowing full well the effect her words would have on him, whether he wanted to admit it or not. She awaited his reaction, her eyes gleaming with a mixture of cruel amusement and predatory anticipation, eager to see how he would respond to her twisted seduction.

@MightyHorus@Algarus

A Wizard's Shadow

The dark witch's almost black eyes never left Percy, watching him like a cat, ready to pounce. A haunting smile spread across the porcelain white skin as she willingly pushed her whole arm out of one of the holes in the cage as far as the spikes would allow her. During their entire exchange, the prisoner remained quiet, keeping her haunting smile, never leaving her sight from Percy's eyes until her wand became visible to her.

It was strange to watch, the dark witch, known for having little to no love for anything or anyone, even those who knew her from school years, always commented on her utter indifference toward everyone with the exception of her brother and wand. And seeing her wand again, felt like seeing part of her soul, just out of reach.

When Percy spoke the vow, he got her attention back, the pale hand twitched so violently that Percy would feel a surprisingly strong grip, one might think the dark witch would break their hold. While Nerissa's nostrils flared and her gaze burned so harshly, the Aurors around Percy and her, instinctively began to raise their wand, but then the other woman stretched her lips with pure distaste into a thin line.

"I will," she hissed between clenched teeth and the magical band pulsed brighter.

The Auror placed the two wands, placing the tips again against their clutched hands, letting Percy speak the second condition. Hearing the second condition spoken, Nerissa snorted and gave Percy a raised eyebrow indirectly asking him, "really?".
But after a second, she spoke. "I will".

And yet again, the magical band pulsed bright once more.

Then the third time happened and it was clear the dark witch was getting tired of all these conditions bound to her soul, but nevertheless, she agreed.

Nerissa held on tightly to Percy as she never left her dark eyes on his. "Should my life be snuffed out beyond the confines of our binding vows, your demise will follow swiftly in its wake?" This was Nerissa's best bet to make sure she was completely safe, and that no trial would sentence her to death. It would make sure no friend of Percy or ministry officials would accidentally let loose a killing curse in her direction after Percy had completed his mission. No, they would have to protect her even if they didn't want to lose "one of the good guys". Not to mention, Percy's death by the British Ministry would no doubt cause a public outcry for a hero in the eyes of the public. Of course, Nerissa had no idea who Percy was, but it was her only chance to get her revenge.

And a fourth and final time, the magical band pulsed brightly, before disappearing completely. Despite disappearing completely, Nerissa could feel an invisible tether connected to this man... That was for sure something she had to get used to.

As Nerissa let go, a wide wicked yet honied smile spread across her lips. Because what this really was... was Percy doing a devil's pact with an imprisoned Death Eater. A pact with Satan him-... or herself.

@MightyHorus@Algarus