Loyalty to Blood (Tag: Theion)

Knockturn Alley had a way of putting Dein on edge. As he passed people by who were either hiding under a hood or in the shadows, he kept his hand near his wand, prepared to defend himself at a moment's notice. It was entirely possible for Dein to run into the wrong person on this street, and it was even more possible for some random psycho to lash out at him. Here was where the scum of the wizarding community wandered, which indicated that he likely belonged here as well. Clovis had gotten on one of the neighboring store clerk's bad side after some explicit black mail, and that was why Dein traveled as himself today, hoping to draw less attention. He only planned to pick up some notes he left back at the shop, and then return to his place back in London, but unfortunately, Dein didn't realize his day was about to take a turn for the worst.

A woman grabbed him by the shoulder suddenly and muttered, "You look familiar, boy. Have we met somewhere before?"

He gave the old woman a cold stare, "No," and then brushed her off and continued down the alley. A man a few steps later chimed in, "You lost? Let me help you find yer way."

Dein simply walked passed him, and eventually took a turn and walked through a narrow space between two shops, and emerged on a back alley where he expected less resistance. He shoved his hands into his coat pockets and continued on, knowing that this detour would lead him to his shop within a few minutes.

Theion flicked his tongue, licking his teeth. A man, a supporter, had offered Theion some...compensation. A donation to the cause, perhaps is a better way to put it. His son was the object, now walking around like easy prey before Theion's eyes. He tilted his head, his eyes small slits as he watched, a hungry smirk crushing his cheeks. A boy who was a metamorphus, who would stay loyal to Theion and do as he bid. A good Death Eater, paid directly to him.

Theion had cared little for the offer. He was all he needed, himself and his own. All death eaters were disposable, a distraction to others as he reached his own goals. Goals, perhaps isn't the correct word. Desires were most accurate. The blood, the screams, the murder. It turned him on, and he needed nothing else in the world.

But his father convinced him otherwise. Or at least he proved that it wouldn't be a waste. There were Death Eaters that thought that they could overthrow him, and if Theion killed them all, he'd have no one to serve as his bait. And so Dein had gained his interest, only for that reason. Because he was put on a platter, and served to him.

The alley was deserted, washed over in a still silence. There was only the sound of his own footsteps and his rhythmic breath that told him time had not frozen over. Feeling somewhat more comfortable in his isolation, Dein shoved his hands into his pockets and watched his feet as he grew closer and closer to the shop. He stopped suddenly, and after a short pause, he turned to face the joining alleyway, where a man stood, eyes locked with his. This one was different from those who normally frequented Knockturn Alley: he was younger than the old bags back on the main street, and he had a glint in his eyes that warned Dein not to treat him with the same disrespect as the others.

"Hello." There was no denying the stranger wanted something from him, and if Dein had known who this man was, he would have acted very differently. But his tone was that of stiff curiosity, and warranted uncertainty. The man did not seem much older than Dein, but did that necessarily put them on the same level? For all Dein knew, a stranger in Knockturn Alley could be as dangerous as the Ministry's most wanted criminal; Dein could not afford to piss off someone he knew nothing about. He already felt uneasy having to come here in the first place; he somehow felt more vulnerable when he wasn't masked by the false identity that was Clovis Nacht. Dein Edrins had more at stake.

(Ahahah that's funny, he's on their most wanted list XD)

Theion stepped out and cracked his fingers, nearly breaking them as he did so. He watched Dein for a while, too long. He looked him over, his head, his eyes, his arms, his legs. Theion took in everything that was in front of him, and kept the time to it. The moments drew on, but Theion cared little about time. It could go on for as long as it wanted, and he planned to still be there.

"Is this the face you wear today?"

He was trying to trip Dein up, to test him. He just wanted to see the reaction, the contorting of the muscles in his face. A flush of blood that ran through his veins, climbing toward a surface. He licked his teeth at the thought, oddly sharp in their nature. His breath looked poisonous as he breathed out.

(sorry for the lameness...he doesn't really talk haha)

(<3)

The reaction was very subtle: the slight widening of the eyes, the stiffening of the shoulders, and his fingertips brushed the handle of his wand. It was a moment of surprise, which would have gone unnoticed if this man hadn't been looking so obsessively for Dein's reaction. Dein cursed himself up and down in the moment of weakness, knowing this confirmed what the stranger already seemed to know. How could he know about Dein's secret? There were only three people alive who knew Dein was a metamorphmagus, unless... could Aries Lestrange be involved? But Dein couldn't see why she would send someone after him; it had been months since their last encounter.

The wizard's behavior seemed abnormal, disturbing even. Dein couldn't really get a read on him; he was so different. Dein had no idea what he was dealing with here. He gave a long pause, before he finally asked, "Who are you?" Dein had made it a priority to remain out of reach from anyone who could be looking for him. He never made a habit to visit a place more than a few times unless he was disguised as Clovis, and most of his time spent as Dein Edrins was limited to his hideout back at the clocktower in London. It had to be a coincidence that this man found him and recognized him, and perhaps the man's comment meant something entirely different.

Still, the danger of someone else knowing of his capabilities was too much of a risk. He didn't have any control back when Aries learned about it, but he couldn't stand anyone else knowing. Even if this guy was stronger than him, Dein had to deal with him somehow, if not by eliminating him, then removing him as a threat. He just needed to be sure the freak really did know his secret before he took that chance. "Did someone send you?"

Theion flicked up his chin as he looked over Dein, turning his own head to the left and to the right. He was taking every moment, every second, as hours of experience. He wanted to know the boy inside out before accepting the offer that his father gave to him. Deals were worth nothing unless they were in Theion's favor.

"A father sent me for a prize, and I'm just trying to see is I like the gift."

He spoke with heavy eyes, watching the twitches in Dein's muscles. If the Death Eaters were meant to have new members, they had to be worth the investment. There were already too many who were weak, and Theion would have no more of them. They make good distractions, and sacrifices, but too many made them weak, too, and Theion needed more pawns to play his game before him.

"Father... My father?" Dein's hand moved away from his wand. He hadn't spoke to his father in months so to have something finally happen now seemed random. Part of what made the Edrins family so unique was also their most treasured and safe-guarded secret. Dein's father wouldn't have told anyone unless for a very important reason. In that case, it was not too big a leap to assume that this stranger was also very important. Perhaps his father had created an opportunity for him. And, well, he certainly wasn't going to learn anything if he didn't go along with the situation.

"Then I suppose I shouldn't disappoint then. But if it's all the same to you sir, might we retire to my shop? There are too many eyes and ears out here."

Once Dein was sure the man would oblige, he lead the way down the alley, took a few sharp turns here and there, and they arrived at the back door of Dein's pawn shop. Dein took a glance around his surroundings before he withdrew a key and unlocked the door. "Right this way," Dein motioned for Theion to enter as he held the door open.

Theion followed Dein, not caring about the eyes, but obliging anyway. The boy would have walked without him anyway. The passion in his eyes, though, at the mention of his father was intriguing. As Theion stalked behind Dein, he couldn't resist the gratifying flick of his nail to the skin on his fingertips, creating divots that bled where scabs had sat before.

Any sane man would have been cautious to enter Dein's shop, another man's territory, but then again Theion wasn't sane. He felt that he always had the upper hand, no matter the environment, and no matter the opponent. He felt unstoppable by all who may oppose him, and felt the necessity for no one to side in his victory. It was the decision of others to think that.

He waited for Dein to talk, needing to say nothing from his own mouth.

Once Theion stepped inside, Dein followed and locked the door behind him. "If you already know about my... skill, I don't need to play stupid anymore. What reason does my father have to share that information with you?" Dein moved across the room, setting his keys on the table and pulling a chair out as an invitation to Theion. Dein sat on the other side of the table and rested his chin in his hand.

"You're not from the Ministry, are you?"

It was the safest way to question him without sounding accusing, though Dein had a feeling this man was tied to the Death Eaters. Dein's father must have been presenting him with a way to 'redeem' himself.

Theion licked the blood from one of his fingers, but allowed the rest of it to drip on the floor.

He looked at the chair and scuffed his lips, seeing no need to sit, not unless it were on his own throne. It was the name of the Ministry that caught his attention, not the nonsense that came before that. He smirked at the thought, recalling his escape. He had no intention of destroying the place, because he felt no regrets. Theion enjoyed the monster that they had turned him into.

"I could never forget the place I was born." His smile, though, was sinister, and lacked the sentimental qualities that his words may have suggested.

He pulled at the skin around his eyeball, exposing more than the average person or child would, before letting his skin slip back into place.

"He said you'd be of use, to my death eaters. I came to claim what use there were of you." He smiled at the thought, twisted as though he were about to laugh at a joke, though none had been told.

The blood staining the floors turned the wood black, only in the small circumference that it touched, molding three miniscule holes into the floor.

If there hadn't been enough evidence before, Dein was almost certain now that this man was mentally unstable. And what he said about the Ministry confirmed that he wasn't normal, even in the slightest. Dein could dismiss the nail biting, but the way this man talked was unnerving.

'My death eaters.' Dein froze up. This man was Theion Gaengry. Dein had heard the name a few times, mostly from his father. Theion had taken over the Death Eaters, and they were all afraid of him. Now Dein knew precisely why.

"Lord Gaengry," Dein stood up, "It would be an honor." He gave a curt bow of his head. His hands were trembling. His heart was pounding. He could have said all the incorrect things had they continued the conversation without Dein knowing he was speaking the the leader of the Death Eaters.

But now Dein understood why Theion acted the way he did. Dein was reminded of Aries Lestrange, and the way she treated everyone like her playthings, because it was a fact that she controlled everything. Theion was like a King much like Aries was a Queen, and to them, Dein was no more than a pawn. That was fine by him; better a pawn than an enemy.

Theion showed no movement toward Dein's new found "respect". He didn't care, for or against it. The boys words were meaningless. He cackled a smile, though, at the thought that they boy could display his use for him. Although, even if he proved useful, there were a few questionable acts that Theion couldn't accept. Everyone was disposable to him, practically meaningless to him, but there was one thing that turned those people into a rot is distaste. Trickery he couldn't stand for.

"Show me."

He demanded, wanting proof of the abilities that Dein had, and the extent that they'd move. It was the first thing to many that would lead Theion to accept the boy. He wasn't just going to take his father's word for his ability or his character.

Dein looked up hesitantly as Theion demanded a show. The look in Theion's eyes reminded Dein all to well of his father. All those hours spent at home, honing his skill, merely to gain the approval he could never have. With a short inhale, Dein gave a curt nod, and started to change form. The bridge of his nose curved in, the structure of his face became more angular, and his hair turned brown as he swept it to the side with his hand. He also grew a few inches taller, and was now eye level with Theion. He'd taken the form of Clovis, as it was his most practiced alias.

Clovis also had a much bulkier, well-muscled build, and did not seem so afraid of Theion as Dein was. He felt like a circus monkey.

Theion watched as the boy morphed, creating a new identity. He was quick about it, and the appearance was effectively different from Dein's original features enough to be unidentifiable. One thing was good, but Theion needed another. For the use that this boy may have meant to him, he'd have to be willing to kill, and a mudblood or muggle should have been no exception.

He played with a piece of paper in his hands, having it practically dance in his fingertips. He grinned at the thought that he had to play at after, before tossing the paper before Dein. He felt that there was no need for him to ask questioned, as the old prophet article prompted them all.

Clovis caught the paper and it only took the date on the paper to know what it was; it wasn't like this shitty article hadn't been thrown in his face a thousand times before. He couldn't have concealed his anger even if he wanted to, "This article's bullshit," He said as he tossed it onto the table, "and so are the writers working at the Prophet. There isn't an ounce of truth in it."

He glanced back at Theion, but the man was looking at him expectantly. "I'm no blood traitor." He said forcefully.

Theion played around with his fingers again, this time as he spoke, "Prove it."

He became silent, a faint thumping able to be heard not too far behind him. A girl, gagged for the moment, was tied to a shelf. Her hair was blonde and curly, her eyes filled with fright and skin stained from tears. The muggle still had her waitressing uniform on, now dirty with small splatters of blood from the small bit of fun that Theion had before taking her here. Not to worry, though, the damage would be done by another.

Theion eyed Dein, not taking his gaze off of the boy. He wanted to watch him, his every muscle, for his reaction. If the boy was emotionally attached, it would only be a slight problem. So long as he still killed the girl. But if it were extreme, or if he refused entirely, Theion would move on. There were plenty more waiting for him outside.

Spoiler:

With his jaw clenched, Clovis's gaze fell upon the girl, and his hands balled up into fists. The young woman was bound the shelf's support bracket, and by the look of it, Clovis could only assumed she'd been trying to force it off the wall during their absence. This meant that she had been sitting here, alone for quite some time, and that Theion planted her here long before Clovis started on his route here. It also meant that a muggle had just witnessed him using his metamorphmagus ability.

Dein's father had always raised him to hate filthy mudbloods, and the ignorant muggles who walked a world they couldn't even begin to understand. Dein's childhood had been comprised of strict lessons and tests to prove over an over again that he shared his father's pureblood views on the world. Any indication of the contrary resulted in severe punishments until he wised up. They were small tests, but always great in number, and due to his father's manipulative parenting methods, it was all too easy for Dein to say and do the wrong thing. Most of his childhood had been like walking on a tight rope.

Growing up the way he did, Dein shouldn't have been shocked by Theion's order, and yet he stood there, stiff and unable to move. He was angry that Theion found the pawn shop so easily, and he was even more pissed off by the fact that Theion broke in so easily. He could feel Theion's gaze burn into his forehead, observing his every move. Clovis couldn't do a thing about it- Theion was untouchable. Slowly, Clovis stepped towards the girl, so that his back was facing Theion, hiding his face. He took the time now to study the girl's features, though it was obvious her blonde curly hair was a reference to Lacetta, and her waitress uniform had a certain likeness to the nurse uniform Lacetta would be wearing around Hogwarts. He ran his finger along a dried drop of blood on the woman's sleeve, and she cringed and attempted to pull away from him. Clovis drew his wand, and slowly turned it in his hand. He hadn't ever killed before, and muggle or not, the woman was still a person. There was something in him telling me that he couldn't do it, and there was the man behind him, telling him that he had to.

Theion remained behind Dein, unmoving. His gaze held hard against the boy, as though he could see through the back of his head. The boy had moved closer and closer to the young woman, but was slow to act. He kept to himself for far too long, testing Theion's patience.

His breathing became frustrated as it quickened, his skin crawling with a dislike for his posture. Theion was not the type to wait on another. Not the type to let another do a job, even if it was a test. He wished for blood. The smell of blood as is skittered across the room. The taste of blood, like sweet vanilla to a hummingbird. Theion twitched at his thoughts, his desire too controlling. He needed to hear the sound of blood, the screams that brought it to life like birds in the morning.

He shook with impatience.

As tears welled up in the girl's eyes, Clovis directed his wand at her throat. She was trembling, but didn't seem to understand what he was about to do to her. It was pitiful really, she wouldn't know until it was too late. Though as he looked her in the eyes, his hand shook, but he knew what would happen if he refused an order from the leader of Death Eaters. It was all too easy to picture Lacetta in front of him, rather than this blonde stranger. After proving his loyalty here, how much longer until Theion tested him again, next time with the real Lacetta and not some lookalike?

He had no choice here, he imagined. His fate was sealed the moment his father offered him up on a silver platter. He had been outplayed for now. He would become a Death Eater, or likely die right here and now. If he wished to continue with his plans, this was the only option. He looked down reverting his gaze from the girl as he muttered, "Diffindo." And she started writhing and screaming through the cloth in her mouth. Dein didn't look at her, but forced her still with his free hand. The spell at first seemed too weak to actually kill her, despite it grinding into her neck, a vital are, but the more pain she seemed to suffer, the stronger the cutting spell became, as though his will pushed through simply to end her misery.

Finally, silence fell on the room, and she had stopped moving. As did Clovis, at first, but then he slowly pulled away, some blood dripping from his left hand as he turned back to Theion. Clovis wouldn't look at the remains of the body, and instead asked Theion, "Anything else, Lord Gaengry?" It was a wonder his voice didn't shake, but he felt cold and stiff under Theion's gaze.