| Opening Log

[shadowqueen]

Everyone's waking up at once, covered in bits of rubble, temporarily without abilities and with a lurking headache. The castle looms around them, irrepressibly gray, huge and silent. The only noises are the people, rustling as they extract themselves from their sarcophagi and look for exits along the arching walkways.

Better take a look around, and see if anyone else knows what's going on.

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[pridegoesbefore]

[Dusting herself off with her hands and looking highly irritated, her accent should be incredibly familiar to him - crisply English, just shy of Received Pronunciation.]

I think you'll find London has managed to lose us.

[feigns]

[ he recognises the accent, the way of talking almost immediately, and he turns to face the woman, a small smile present on his lips. whilst his upbringing was far from shameful — his family had money, after all, and it was a respectable lineage — he was welsh, and the english tended to take offence to that. or rather, the upper-classes; it had always seemed that the lower classes didn't care one way or another so long as their personal business and livelihood wasn't bothered, and shadowhunters picked and chose their prejudice with wanton abandon. most judged him on reputation and reputation alone, occasionally blaming the fact that he was welsh for the acquisition of said reputation.

the worst traits of both, as aloysius had said. ]

I wasn't aware it was sentient. Of course, that would explain a number of things — such as why my normally infallible memory often fails to lead me home after a truly exciting night, for example. I shall have to explain that to those I live with when I return: fear not! For the good city of London was leading me astray, and though it fought well, I eventually beat its wily charms and found my way back to my rightful place.

[ he drops the smile and regards her for a moment before continuing, irritation and disdain creeping into his mannerisms. ] Hardly.

[pridegoesbefore]

[The English take offence to all sorts of things, including but not limited to the Welsh, the French, the Antipodes, and Americans. But Narcissa is an English witch, so her prejudices are slightly more focused. Welsh is still British, so there's a start. And he dresses well, which is enough to have earned initial approval, if nothing more.]

The landmarks and whatever you've imbibed are in cahoots to rob you of your whereabouts, clearly.

[Having done what she can for the smart cloak covering her clothes, her hands move to her hair, fingers combing and taming the locks into neatness.]

This appears to be some sort of mass abduction. If, indeed, the city of London is behind it, I'd expect there to be tea. Since there isn't...

[feigns]

[ he laughs at that, although it's slightly strained and not without a hint of bitterness. it was ironic that on the one occasion he had gone out with the intention of forgetting everything, of having pleasant dreams, it had resulted in this. ]

It's a truly dastardly joining of forces. Next time, I'll ensure to be more vigilant. [ he watches her with a degree of curiosity when she starts fiddling with her hair, and for a moment, he's reminded of Camille. Beautiful and proper, although this woman is quite clearly not a vampire. For one, there's a scent to her, and for seconds, her beauty isn't the unearthly, disconcerting beauty of the undead. ]

—A cup of tea would do wonders for this headache. And a proper breakfast: toast, with eggs and bacon and sausages, as well as a nap in a bed that isn't made of stone and kept upright.

[pridegoesbefore]

[He'd gone out with intent. She'd taken two steps into Knockturn Alley and-- well, she's not sure of the rest.

The corner of her mouth quirks in wry solidarity.]

Caution isn't necessarily a bad thing, if exercising it results in not being here.

[Vanity, thy name is Narcissa - quite literally. He'd have been more curious had she been able to use her wand to tidy her appearance, but as things currently stand, that will remain a secret. After all, he could have a wand of his own - though she'd like to think she'd recognise him if he had. Best not to dwell on that just now.]

--oh, that sounds marvellous. [To the point that her stomach wakes up and complains with a quiet rumble - not audible, but she feels it.] Speaking of stone, I certainly hope there's more to this place than a mausoleum.

[feigns]

But dull.

[ there's a flicker of interest at the agreement with his idea of a good breakfast — not for the agreement itself, but for the fact that she hadn't commented on his claim of a headache. he was all too well-versed in pretence, in pretending he had one when he did not and vice-versa, but she'd said nothing of it, merely agreed with a proposed — and considering their surroundings, entirely fanciful — solution.

there was a possibility, then, that his headache wasn't the result of what he'd taken the night previous, but the result of where they were, what had happened to them as a collective. something, in other words, to keep in mind.

he hums in response to her comment, directing his attention to the room at large. he imagines that he'd be able to use his stele to draw and open an exit of sorts, but he feels wrong, weaker, both mentally and physically, and he's not convinced he'd be able to manage it at present. and then there's the fact that the woman in front of him is likely a mundane. ]

Buildings don't exist in a vacuum. There will be an outside, if nothing else.

[pridegoesbefore]

That depends entirely on how you like your excitement.

[Wryly.

And no, she didn't comment - but one hand has remained in her hair, gently rubbing the back of her scalp, near the nape. It could possibly be mistaken for further primping, as she's also not one to complain of a weakness to someone she's just met.

In this case, silence is agreement - and she's used to food simply appearing. His notion made perfect sense.]

Well, then. Prudence suggests we see if we can get outside, and from there, home.

[feigns]

With a lack of caution. [ he punctuates the remark with a sideways glance, as if to say that he imagined that had already been established. he spins on the spot, eyes raking over their surroundings and then upwards, looking for any hint of an exit.

a sigh — resigned — and a shrug, and he turns back to her. ] If nothing else, we have time.

[pridegoesbefore]

Apparently so. [For herself, she's always been one to look before she leaps.

Blue eyes watch dispassionately as he turns, and her mouth makes a small moue of irritation when he seems to see no way out.]

--wonderful. Abducted and trapped - just what I wanted to do this weekend.

[Finally removing her hand from her hair, those fingers run briefly over her sleeve, visible through the gap in her cloak. It could be construed as further straightening of her attire; really, she's double-checking that her wand really is there, despite not being able to use it.]

There has to be an exit. Nobody simply appears in room like this, and certainly not this number of us.

[feigns]

[ he glances at her sharply, a frown briefly marring his features. he's used to women complaining and doing nothing to help themselves, but it still irritates him. perhaps, he thinks, the comparison to camille was unwarranted; camille wasn't helpless, or useless. perhaps this woman was more like jessamine. ]

Then we must all be nobody, then, for that is what happened. Shortly, I'll renounce my name, and as the first of us to do so, I expect to be regarded as the chief nobody. [ it's muttered irritably, and quickly followed up with a determined walk away from her, towards the outskirts of the room. regardless of what she intended, he has every intention of searching more thoroughly. ]

[pridegoesbefore]

[...that sort of irritation reminds her of Severus. Of course, he has talent to back it up, and she's not sure what this young man has, other than a snarky comeback. Nobody, indeed. The Ancient and Noble House of Black does not produce nobodies.]

Speak for yourself.

[Narcissa watches him leave for a moment, then turns and picks her way carefully over the crumbling piles of stone. Her wand may not be of any use just yet, but she has eyes, and spent her formative years in a castle. At least some parts of the walls look to be patched, which means potential doorways.]