Descole's Office (The Ministry of Magic, London- Creature control/Auror area )

Cynder nodded and rose as well, looking at her hands, rubbing her right arm, the bumps of the scar on her arm rubbing against her fingertips.

Descole smirked and chuckled.

"What gave you the idea I've been sleeping, M'lady? ... And if you would, that would be much appreciated."

Descole nodded quietly, rather calm despite how upset he was over the issue of working with the Strayers.

"Very well. I'll keep the girl here while I gather my things. thank you, M'lady. Please, contact me if there is a definite decision on the true fate of.. Miss Dustypaws."

He inhaled quietly and turned to face Cayden, bowing to her.
"... yes, thank you, M'lady.."

Descole watched her go and closed the door after her.

He had his sword in his hand without a moment to loose, and had shoved Cynder up against the room wall, the sword at her throat.

She trembled, eyes wide, mouth dry of words or sounds.

"If you do anything," He spoke in a low, dangerous tone, "Absolutely anything to get those Strayers on my back, I swear I will kill you... deal or no deal, you're life is in my hands."

He let go and walked into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

It took a few minutes, but soon he had come back out with his cloak on and a suitcase in his hand.
He was muttering something about how the spell was weaker, and would take a little bit more time on his sword to strengthen to what he needed for any too-serious battle.

He used his free hand to grab Cynder's shoulder and wheel her toward the door, locking his office rooms behind him as they left.

Back to Hogwarts.
Again.

Descole had returned to his office, but he wasn't relaxing in any manner.

He had gone into his bedroom area, greeted by a whining and wagging of tails.
He latched the collars to the wolves, making sure the contraption on their ear was still secure.

After doing so, he let them from their crates and began to gather his things.
He left that room and locked it behind him, grabbing some mechanics and screws, and things of the like.

Yes, if his plan went without a hitch tonight..

Descole looked up at the voice, growling slightly.

"Come on in."

He spoke smoothly, returning his attention to fixing a few of his mechanics now, instead of later.
The wolves were growling and fighting over a large beef shank he had tossed them, the Alphas eating hungrily, the omegas trying to get a few bites.

Descole scowled and looked up.

"I thought I sent-"

A chirruping was heard, and he turned his face to the fireplace, where the robotic owl stopped moving, out of it's power for the time.

The man groaned.

"Damned... i told it-"

He cursed for a moment before plucking the letter from it's metallic beak.

"I meant to send you," He spoke with frustration, "But it seems the damned thing malfunctioned. Again.
My apologies, Cayden. But while you're here, I might as well jut tell you that Cynder's ill and bedridden because of it, and Pomfrey hasn't gotten her any better yet."

Descole felt a twinge of anger at Cayden, but he spoke what was on his mind.

"Neither I nor a Strayer are at her side because she's unable to move- hardly even able to talk."

A pause, he inhaled.
He didn't have time fore this..

The wolves had finished, and the Omegas of the group were gnawing on the bone for any marrow the alphas might have left over, licking their paws and yawning loudly.

He spoke smoothly, quickly, over their noise.

"She started with a mere cold, lots of sneezing and of the like. But just today she collapsed on a couch in her Common Room, hardly able to talk. She has a terrible fever, and she doesn't react much to sound now- as if she's going deaf."

Descole scowled.

He had many things on his mind, but nothing he wanted to say.
He strapped another belt to his waist- a tool belt with several things hooked to it and a bag of bolts and things of the like.
He slipped on his cloak and whistled to his wolves, who sat up and trotted to his side.

"No. Nothing, Auror Cayden. I apologize for the worry- I'll keep you more updated. Good evening."

And he walked past her, the canines trotting behind him with wagging tails.
And yet he had put something back on the fireplace mantel when he had gone over to the mechanical owl- a picture of a dancing woman. Clare.

But Descole had left his office in a rush, as if late for meeting a friend for coffee.

(( thank you, Mer~ That was fun. c: ))

its fine, i need to leave now because our house just got struck by lightning and scared the crap out of me, night c:

(( holy- ... er... okay. Stay safe. :O ))

Descole paced back and forth, frustration filling the air.

He had a glass of wine in his hand, but he didn't seem to have even tried to drink it.
A screaming headache poured into his mind, forcing him to sit.

And yet he continued to mutter, thinking over what he'd say in nearly any situation.

Yes, the Trial was going to be today... it had to be- that is, if the mind fight hadn't fried Cynder out of her own body and left it a shell.
The man set his glass down and hunched over, rubbing his temples, thinking over what Artisan had told him at the Grounds yesterday.

Cayden actually didn't trust him then?
The sour sting of betrayal twinged in his head, forcing him to groan in frustration and stand again, resuming his pacing and muttering.

The headache began to fade, the nervousness and frustration dying down to pure sorrow and exhaustion.

He hadn't slept in weeks, and he rarely ate.

Even his custom suit seemed to be too big now, a sign of how much weight he was loosing from this sickly state.

He sank back into his favourite chair, snapping his fingers to set a large, hot, crackling fire in the fireplace.
The wolves looked at their master before curling up by the heat of the fire, yawning and falling asleep in a mass pile of fur and metal earcaps.

The man looked at them sadly, his eyelids droopy from under his mask.
He took up his glass of wine and took a drink, the warm alcohol seeping into his throat, bringing more exhaustion and fuzzy relief into his mind.

And when he spoke to himself, the emotion was full of utter sorrow, hurt, and befuddlement.
"Cayden betrayed me..."

Work always seemed to get his mind off of things.


Descole was in the office-like area of his office, tools set to the side, and a tall and strange machinery.

He screwed in a few loose bolts and pressed a new cog into an empty slot before standing and dusting himself off to wind up the thing.

It took a moment, but with a few clicks it began to move, becoming clear what it was.
It's human like shape shifted, turning it's head to Descole, it's shiny mossy green eyes unblinking in a stare.

Descole moved and grabbed what appeared to be a rubber suit that was thrown over a chair, exhaling.

"There you are, my friend. All fixed again. Now, hand out. It's time to get this damned suit back on you."

Returning at last from the Malfoy Manner, Descole slumped into his sofa-like chair and exhaled slowly.

That was... interesting...

The Dark Lord didn't seem that powerful, though he was glad he kept his wits about him.
Dying tonight would do Cynder no good.

He looked lazily at a clock on the wall, and nodded to himself.
Yes, just about time.
Which meant he had a few moments rest.

He greeted his wolves, poured himself a nice cup of herbal tea, and relaxed by the fireplace.

Silence.

Nothing but silence.
Silence that had disappeared whenever Cynder came, due to what Descole's business was.
But now, silence.

It was nice, but... missing something.

The man let himself relax at his desk, the stiff wood chair uncomfortable but forcibly unique and fit to his likings.
Descole filed through paperwork, scowling as he did so.

Well, this was it, wasn't it? Climbing up the ladder meant more paperwork. And anyway, it didn't matter.

Sighing, Jean took a sip of his tea and continued his lazy work, looking tired yet rested in such a was as he hadn't looked in months.

(( if anyone wants to interact as an Auror, or just your character, that would be lovely~ ))

The three-roomed office, custom made for the man, was filled with the eerie candlelight as it usually was.

A soft music echoed around the room from the gramophone.

The living-room waiting area had the crackling fire, with the five wolves curled together by it.
The bedroom remained locked, as always.

And the door to the real office sat propped open, where Descole sat lazily at his desk, filing through paperwork, eyes tired under his mask.

walks in but stops abruptly when she sees who it is-

Jean heaved a quiet breath, allowing his shoulders to tense as he realized someone was there.

he wasn't fully aware who, yet, but he knew she was there.

".... I'm sorry, but do you have pre-set business with me....? Or are you here to request my work..?"