I Think I Was Just Born With Something Dark And Ugly Inside Of Me. Always Waiting To Be Found Out.

"Well, someone ought to teach you some manners," Daphne replied, though her tone was light and teasing now that she knew the face belonged to someone familiar, not a stranger. Taking the handkerchief, she cleaned up the last of the blood pouring from her nose. "Thank you."

"No need for a Healer, unless you know one that prescribes a month long holiday as cures?" She joked, before casting a quick Cleaning Charm on the affected area — as she finished, Daphne gestured for Lucius to take a seat. "If you're not meeting someone else, of course."

Lucius was meeting with a wizard to handle business. Curious if the outcome would aid in their cause, insistent that they would get great allies, and though the man wished for a night to think, he was quite certain they would come around to his view. There were other ways to get what he wanted and he kept those for last resort.

The blonde did a double take, the face familiar, snorting at her words. "I was never one to be polite," Lucius teased, pulling out a handkerchief from his inside pocket for her. "Do we need to get you looked at?"

If there was one virtue Daphne luckily possessed, it was that of patience. Years of tip-toeing around the Avery estate, needing to pick the exact moment when to move and when to stay silent — she had never been rustled easily, and today was not when she was about to start, not when she needed a drink. Still, that didn't mean she was going to give in easily — especially not when someone wanted her to.

"I don't care to fix what is your problem, not mine. If you wanted to sit somewhere by yourself undisturbed, you should have chosen a less busy pub," Daphne spoke in a matter-of-fact way, little indication of emotion in the words, However, at the sight of the cigarettes and smoke blown directly towards her, she couldn't help the small laugh that escaped her.

Picking a slim menthol cigarette from her purse, she demonstratively put it to her lips. Though she did not intend to be very petty about this situation — showing that she was the mature one in this conversation — Daphne felt something take over about half way through her smoke. Head tilted to the other side, she 'accidentally' dropped her cigarette into the witch's drink to extinguish. Doe-eyed and innocent looking, she turned back, feigning an apologetic expression. "Oops."

The witch was going to be a pain in Georgette's ass. It was obvious from the first words out of her mouth. Not that she would expect anything less. It was an example of why she never wanted to interact with other people. She may have had an attitude but that didn't give others license to have one, no matter how hypocritical that sounded. If approached the right way then maybe Georgette wouldn't be such a bitch but that's not how anyone greeted her.

"I'll close my eyes where I please," she said looking at Daphne, a witch she didn't even know. Obviously a no one. "Sounds like a problem you need to fix. Has nothing to do with me." Georgette rubbed her temples as Daphne didn't speak. At least wasn't speaking for a moment but of course her annoying voice perked up again.

Georgette took out her cigarettes. Maybe the smoke would make her go away. She lit the cigarette, inhaled and exhaled, making sure smoke went in Daphne's direction without blowing it directly in her face.

"Liar," Daphne responded with a look at the sight of his eyes roaming, though the effect it was meant to have was significantly diminished by the sudden nasal quality of her voice — caused by the tissue pressed up against it. The nosebleeds were a byproduct of some experimentation with spell invention during her youth, and her father had discouraged her from getting it fixed — what better way to support the family blood curse with evidence like that, after all?

Once the blood had stopped, Daphne finally had a hand free to reach for her wand, casting a simple Tergeo to take care of the blood on her paperwork, though small pink-toned splats still remained, already seeped through too far for her to clean. With a sigh, Daphne accepted the drink, raising it to Rabastan in cheers before taking a sip.

"Thank you, I did need that, yes," She responded after savoring the drink, nodding towards the mountains of paperwork before her. "Germans do so enjoy doing everything by the book, which means endless proposals to file and documents to spit through." It was a miracle Daphne wasn't nursing a migraine yet. "And what has gotten you drinking this early in the day?"

Having just spent too much time on the wrong side of the Leaky Cauldron, Rabastan determined he deserved a firewhisky or two. Muggles repulsed him. He could practically feel their filth tainting his existence. It was most undesirable. But he would not complain about such things, and had completed the task assigned to him by the Dark Lord efficiently.

As he waited for his drink at the bar, he considered that he would visit Gringotts next. He desired an assignment from the goblins; something that would permit him to practise as much magic as possible, to remove the smear of muggle inadequacy from his day. Turning, glass in hand, he noted Daphne attending to a wealth of work so impressive it rivelled even his own overzealous tendencies.

"I was not staring," he asserted, as he did precisely that. His eyes roamed her features, noting the nosebleed and the crimson smatters on the parchment in front of her. "Miss Avery," he drawled, sitting beside her without an invitation. "You appear to have greater need of this drink than me." Pushing it towards her, he then gestured for the barmaid to send another firewhisky to their table.

"In my defense, I thought you were one of the bar hangers back there, spotting a moment of weakness and deciding to take their chance to save a damsel in distress," Daphne shrugged apologetically, gratefully noting the fact that Emma's stance provided a barrier between her and those previously mentioned bar hangers. "I would be very grateful for your help — I'm running out of tissue to soak through and I really do not have the energy to redo this paperwork because of the blood."

"Is that how you greet all your friends?" Emma raised an eyebrow unfazed by the glare directed at her. She didn't take it personally, standing in front of Daphne as if blocking her from other people's view. People loved to gossip after all. "I guess you don't want my help then?" As a quidditch player she was used to getting blood out of various things, but Emma would step back if Daphne didn't want her input.

being in yr 20s is abt experiencing the worst thing you can imagine & then having to go to the grocery store

✧ a child weaned on poison considers harm a comfort

— gillian flynn, sharp objects

Is that DAPHNE AVERY stepping out into Diagon Alley? Ministry records tell us that they were born on AUGUST 9TH and are a 24 year old, PUREBLOOD who works as a INTERN at the INTERNATIONAL CONFEDERATION OF WIZARDS. Some have said that they can be described as being TENACIOUS, POISED & ERUDITE, however, they also see themselves as being DISINGENUOUS, SELF-INDULGENT & DESENSITIZED. Apparently, SHE look(s) a lot like DAVIKA HOORNE, whoever that is, and if they had to pick a side in the war, they would choose to JOIN THE DEATH EATERS (PUBLICALLY NEUTRAL).

𓆩　𓇯𓇯𓇯𓇯﹒ㅤBASICSㅤ﹒𓇯𓇯𓇯𓇯ㅤ 𓆪

FULL NAME : Daphne Lucretia Thidarat Avery.

NICKNAMES : Daph.

AGE : Twenty-four.

BIRTHDAY : August 9th.

GENDER & PRONOUNS : Cis woman, she/her/hers.

SEXUALITY : Bisexual, biromantic.

RELATIONSHIP STATUS : Single.

AFFILIATION : The Death Eaters (publically presents as neutral).

FACECLAIM : Davika Hoorne.

OCCUPATION : Law student, socialite & intern at the International Confederation of Wizards ( United Kingdom envoy ).

𓆩　𓇯𓇯𓇯𓇯﹒ㅤPERSONALITYㅤ﹒𓇯𓇯𓇯𓇯ㅤ 𓆪

POSITIVES : Tenacious, poised, erudite, charismatic, observant.

NEUTRALS : Analytical, ambitious, detail-oriented, resourceful, calculating.

NEGATIVES : Disingenuous, self-indulgent, desensitized, spoiled, paranoid.

MORAL ALIGNMENT : Lawful neutral.

WESTERN ZODIAC : Leo sun, Capricorn moon, Gemini rising.

HEAVENLY VIRTUE : Diligence.

DEADLY SIN : Pride.

TAROT CARD : The Chariot ( reversed ).

𓆩　𓇯𓇯𓇯𓇯﹒ㅤFAMILYㅤ﹒𓇯𓇯𓇯𓇯ㅤ 𓆪

FATHER : Horatius Avery ( Avery conglomerate head, political powerbroker ).

MOTHER : Pimchanok Avery ( deceased ).

SIBLINGS : Achilles Avery ( deceased ), Sybella Avery ( deceased ), Caius Avery ( disowned ).

CHILDREN : N/A.

PET(S) : A cat named Iago.

𓆩　𓇯𓇯𓇯𓇯﹒ㅤMAGICAL PROFILEㅤ﹒𓇯𓇯𓇯𓇯ㅤ 𓆪

HOGWARTS HOUSE : Slytherin.

ABILITIES : Skilled Occlumens.

WAND : Elm wood, veela hair core, 11", rigid.

PATRONUS : Occamy.

ASSOCIATED MEMORY : A distant memory of when Daphne was eight, on a setee in her chambers, with her mother gently brushing her hair while humming the childhood lullaby she sang for all the Avery children. The memories of scent of her perfume and pure and utter comfort of it never fail to make her smile

AMORTENTIA : Daphne smells the floral but earthy scent of walking through a lavender field most powerfully, with undertones of the dusty, parchment-like scent that comes from opening ancient tomes, and a light hint of methol.

REVERSE AMORTENTIA : When thinking of Daphne, burnt cherries is the most powerful scent that comes up first, but underneath lingers the scent of firewhiskey, freshly washed bedsheets, and a light hint of vanilla.

BOGGART : A wall of family portraits, all depicting gruesome mutilations or murder scenes, but still featuring the members of her family itself.

𓆩　𓇯𓇯𓇯𓇯﹒ㅤBACKGROUNDㅤ﹒𓇯𓇯𓇯𓇯ㅤ 𓆪

[ trigger warnings for : violence, murder, child abuse ]

Daphne was the youngest of the Avery siblings — and has since realized that has been her saving grace. The Avery estate has it's own mausoleum, to preserve the family history, and in her twenty-four years, she has seen three of it's tombs filled with the bodies of her mother, brother, and sister. And while society grieved with the Avery family for the blood curse that had struck all three of them down, Daphne quietly withdrew into herself — she knew the only curse that had touched them had come from her fathers' wand.

There is a certain amount of delusion necessary to survive in the Avery family, as well as a healthy dose of paranoia. Disappointing Father enacted a heavy price toll — but Daphne was lucky enough to have seen the mistakes made by her siblings, first. Once she was old enough to be paid attention to, she had already taught herself the steps necessary in the dance that her family had painstakingly learned. She would be perfect — and Father would love her.

She was ten, the first time she felt the burn of a Crucio on her skin. She had lasted longer than most of her siblings, and perhaps in that, became too overconfident. When her mother passed away that year, the occurrences became more frequent. The shield was gone — and Horatius Avery had free reign to turn his children into the clever vipers he desired, by any means necessary. Sybella comforted her about mother's death one night, and it was the first time she learned that her siblings were in conspiracy — murmurs of "he did it" first reaching her ears. And just before she left for Hogwarts, Sybella joined her mother in the family tomb.

Daphne knew not to disappoint father, so she would excel in Slytherin, just like her siblings. With a sharp mind and withering glare already taught to her, she managed to climb into the role her father wanted for his children to fill — but cruelty did not come with ease, or enjoyment for that matter. However, the first skill Avery children learned was deception, and Daphne practiced it exceptionally well. A nonchalant, wealthy, spoiled brat — nothing mattered ( everything mattered ), always down for a good time ( debauchery numbed the fear ), and with a shallow demeanor ( faked so no one ever expected her to truly participate in the violence of her pureblood peers ).

It was in her fifth year, just before winter break, that Achilles died. When Daphne came home from school, she found Caius in a fit of rage — confessing everything to her. Achilles wanted to leave, filled with anger over the deaths of Sybella and their mother. When Father found out, his rage was earth-shattering. Achilles the heir, dead at twenty-six. Daphne turned even further into a shell of herself, animated and extravagant on the outside, but terrified on the inside. When Caius showed up in her room at night, saying he was leaving — that she could come with, she was paralyzed with only one thought: I don't want to die. Caius left, unable to get her to move. She doesn't know where he is, but father publically disowned him for marrying a Muggle — so she hoped that meant he was alive.

There was only one Avery left, and all her father's attention was on her. It seemed there was a realization in Horatius at that — he was getting older, and there was no guarantee that he would be around long enough for a new wife and child to be raised in his exacting demands. Daphne was the last option — and it meant that as long as she met his biggest demands, she would have more freedom than her siblings. After so many years, Daphne was already conditioned to please — but having that extra attention, the freedom, it was enough to twist into her mind. This was good — she did good, she proved herself worthy.

A brimming career in the International Confederation of Wizards, the only heir to the Avery legacy, a father that loved her ( again, delusion is necessary for Daphne to survive ), and an unmarked position in the Death Eaters — influencing international policy to their advantage. Daphne has created palaces in her mind, grand and imposing, where her ambition has succeeded and she has become everything she has ever wanted. The dark history and blood on the floors has been carefully hidden, and the graveyards no longer have their dirt disturbed — for now.

TLDR : The Avery family is a fucked up wealthy pureblood family. Daphne's father murdered her mother and two of her siblings after years of abuse because he demands unachievable perfection. Her second brother ran away and got disowned, making her the only Avery left — leading to her father having to learn to compromise to keep the one child he has left and not destroy the family legacy. Daphne has compartmentalized and lives in delusion, pretending everything is great and she is living the best possible life.

"Since you've decided on the curious choice of sitting at a bar with your eyes closed, you may not have noticed," Daphne started as she theatrically made herself comfortable on the bar stool, further proving her point. "There is no other place to sit, the place is packed." Daphne silently nursed her glass of firewhiskey, taking a small sip before putting it down again. She used the time to look at the woman next to her, noticing the splintered fingers wrapped around the glass, but not giving any indication or response in her body language. "If you want to sit somewhere by yourself, I'd suggest the floor — I'm pretty sure they cleaned it last year."

where: three broomsticks. who: open.

It wasn't often that Georgette left the confines of her beloved store, her home, where she felt most at ease but something compelled her. Her mind was foggy and she felt she needed some air and a brief change of scenery. While she didn't dare drink alcohol she did enjoy a good non-alcoholic butterbeer. Although there would be people drinking, she thought she could handle a single butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks and then head back home. Just enough time to get in and get out. She didn't want to stray for long anyway.

She sat down at the bar and ordered her drink, making it very clear she wanted no alcohol in her drink. She would hex the wizard if he tried to pull a fast one on her. As he passed her the cold beverage, her forever splintered fingers wrapped around the glass. It was a good feeling. She closed her eyes and imagined she was by herself, but Georgette could not pretend for long as she felt someone beside her.

"You could go away right now and make this easier on both of us," she said before finally opening her eyes.

"Never been to a Sugarplum's sale before?" Amos asked at the sight of furrowed brows, followed by a pardon. He knew he must look ridiculous, but when half the customers were on a sugar high most the time, he managed to blend in decently well. "These things get brutal, I'm talking multiple Healers needing to be called in kind of brutal," He knew that it would likely not explain his behavior much, but at the very least, he noticed the old employee stocking shelves nodding along with him.

"Diggory. Amos. Amos Diggory." If anything, Amos was just making himself look worse by repeating his name, as if the other man wasn't aware how names worked. "Are you sure? These are 50% off, you know." Unable to shut himself up, Amos held up the bowl with it's large discount sticker as evidence.

"Sorry, it's been a long day, 'm feeling a bit frazzled, like the seams are coming off," Amos figured an apology wasn't going to save him from this disaster of a show, but he figured that before he had to dart off again to save Cedric from the bad flavors of Bertie Bott's, he might as well make an attempt at it.

Corban was shopping for his younger sisters. It wasn't the most fun chore, but the two had been demanding more snacks, and it was his duty as an elder of the three to provide. The cart was almost full, filled with sweets and sours he knew those little menaces would enjoy and leave him be for a week, if lucky. He wasn't truly planning on buying the discount Sugar Quills, or maybe he would have if he deemed them decent enough. He was just curious as to what could have been the reason for said discount. The man was about to reach for it when someone else snatched it up. In a rather quick manner, it somewhat reminded him of a hawk. However, as he looked at the man and his somewhat, barely-held-together attire, he felt quipped by his imagination. There was no hawk in front of him. Just a tired but still rather handsome man.

He wasn't planning on caring until the comment had been made by the man, a rather silly one at that, childish even. Corban's brows furrowed slightly. He eyed the man up again, now studying him a bit closer.

"Pardon?" Then he paused. "I do not plan to fight you for it. They are all yours, Mister...?" he trailed off unsure what the name of the stranger was, although he could swear their face was familiar.

WHO : daphne avery & anyone. WHERE : the leaky cauldron, diagon alley. WHEN : around lunch time.

Daphne's internship was connected to the British envoy to the ICW, and since he was usually busy or out of the country, she ended up doing a significant amount of work — however, with no one to directly supervise her, there were very few rules and even less oversight. Though there were more malicious purposes for that, Daphne most often used it to work outside of the office — currently ending up at the Leaky Cauldron. Buried in the enormous pile of work, she didn't even notice the drops of blood until they landed on the part she was reading. Nosebleed. Hastily grabbing napkins, she furiously dabbed against it before it could ruin more of the documents, until she felt eyes on her back. Instantly, she swivelled around on her chair, a glare on her face. "Staring is considered rude, you know."

MICHAEL EVANS BEHLING @ Giorgio Armani