Dec 17, 2018 4:27 AM
A Felicity meets Severus Snape
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The man gestures lazily with his wand, and the compass floats towards him. He grabs it and tosses it up and down. "A pretty compass you have here. It's old."

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"Family heirloom."

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“And what’s the writing here?” He frowns down at the compass. “Is this... an A? an L?”

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"Quidquid Latine dictum sit altum videtur."

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His eyes bore into hers. There's hunger in his stare, now, and desperation, naked and ugly.

— And then it's gone, and he's smiling assuredly again. "I see. Precious few people speak Latin, these days. It's all fancy-sounding incantations and meaningless statements. Fancy telling me where you got this compass, girl?"

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"My parents," she says, curt now from trying not to laugh rather than anger.

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"A likely story." His hand closes over the compass possessively.

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"Fortunately it doesn't require you to believe it to be true."

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Abruptly, he looks away. His fingers caress the compass lovingly, before it disappears into his cloak. Curtly— "I'll take you to Varia."

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She is not going to win this one. Merlin, why did she get herself into this?

She nods, just as sharp.

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Ignoring the very-inviting stairway, the man behind the counter removes a key from yet another compartment in his cloak. This key he inserts into what appears to be thin air; he gives it an aggressive turn, and suddenly another stairway appears behind him, this time leading downwards, into darkness.

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Elise knows better than to enter a warded passage without an invitation. She waits.

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