Looking for Trouble

The weeks had passed, long and tired, from summer into fall. As the time stretched on, it seemed that the increasingly stormy, miserable weather was designed to match Ariadne's mood. Corvus still hadn't forgiven her, still wasn't speaking to her, and still wouldn't look at her if he could at all avoid it.

As her friends were few, it was a very lonely few weeks -- the longest of her life, it felt like. Her only companion was Lilith, mostly, in her dank, dark dungeon, and that was no company at all. Lilith's presence only served to deepen Ariadne's misery, and so she escaped Eden as often as she could to avoid being summoned to the older witch's side.

On this particular day, however, she had finally had enough of the silent treatment. Corvus had never stayed angry with her for so long, or been so vindictive about it -- scarring Cygnus, forcing her to "help" Lilith, sending her out on only the most menial and time-consuming tasks. Whenever she did see him, it was on the arm of some or the other beautiful, vapid witch, and she had caught sight of him parading his latest conquest around for the last time.

Fortunately, he hadn't seen her, and so she escaped out into the grounds, eyes burning with the fury of a woman scorned, which hell hath no. Something needed to be done about this -- she just couldn't figure out what. For weeks she had thrown herself tirelessly into every task he put her to, kept her head down, kept her temper and tongue firmly in check. There was nothing for it -- she needed help. That left her with exactly one option, and she hoped that it wasn't asking too much of him.

Vinzent Zolnerowich was not typically the sort of man one would take their problems to -- to most, he was rather "unapproachable" to put it kindly -- but Ariadne was not most people. From their first meeting, she cherished an appreciation for the wizard's blunt manner and dark humour, which so resembled her own. Although she really only saw him for brief periods of time, as he was a busy man, the time she'd spent was quite enough to convince her that she could seek no one else's help -- if he was willing to offer it, that is.

Owl sent, she settled down into an ornately carved stone bench in one of the gardens, overcast sky ominously threatening rain. As she waited, she watched the leaves blow thickly in the brisk wind, heavy with rain and clinging stubbornly to whatever surface they happened upon in a rather ironic imitation of Ariadne herself, who was quite unaware of this similarity as she awaited Vinzent's arrival.

It took several minutes for Vinzent to arrive: longer than fifteen but not more than thirty. He apparated to a spot some six feet before Ariadne with a thunderous snap of a noise that resembled the sound of a whip. The wizard's stance was full of strength and pride despite the sling upon his arm. It was hidden as best as possible with a disillusionment charm.

Vinzent's attire indicated he had come fresh from his Ministry job: highly-polished black boots and a set of mottled purple-and-black robes with a silver 'W' upon the left-side breast. His hands were encased in black gloves. Instead of having allowed his hair to just be itself Vinzent attempted to tame it: the raven locks were pulled back into a gentle ponytail secured by a blood red ribbon.

"I apologize my arrival is less than timely..." Vinzent said, striding up to the bench. The parchment containing Ariadne's note was clutched in his immobilized hand. "I can spare an hour, or however much of it you require, before I will be missed."

Aridne looked up at the thunderous arrival; Vinzent always had a flair for arriving in high style. Knowing this, she'd of course taken pains to properly attire herself as well, donning one of the newer garments she'd made for herself a few weeks back, but there was no disguising the rather flat aspect of her eyes, or the gaunt cast of her face. The corset-style dress only emphasised how painfully thin she'd gotten, although the garment itself was much more comfortable now than it had been at first now that it wasn't so tight.

She smiled for what was probably the first time in weeks, and rose to greet Vinzent properly, trying to disguise her sufferings as best she could for the time being. No one liked a mood killer.

"No apologies necessary, Mr. Zolnerowich, I'm honestly flattered you came at all. I know you're very busy, and I appreciate the gesture, really I do," she assured him earnestly, motioning to the bench, that they might be seated.

"I've called you here for a matter of a rather personal nature, you see. To be quite honest, I'm not sure who else I can turn to."

Vinzent took a moment to look over Ariadne's appearance. She was beautiful to be sure, but her eyes did not seem to hold their former light and she seemed to have gone thinner. The wizard decided that could very well just be his memory playing tricks on him. He was probably confusing the woman before him with the current witch to come and claim his heart: Liesel Stabler-Evian. It was likely the corset dress that did it. Liesel seemed fond of them, and Vinzent was definitely fond of Liesel wearing them.

"Not at all," the wizard nodded, allowing as much concern to flicker across his face as was appropriate in an acquaintanceship. He glanced at the bench and took the seat opposite of the one she had had previously, situating his entire upper body to face Ariadne instead of relying on his neck to do the swerving. His collarbone hadn't quite healed enough for that kind of activity.

A single ebony eyebrow twitched upon hearing the matter of discussion would be personal instead of business. While he wouldn't come right out and say it just now: personal issues intrigued him. Especially if it so happened that one person was being pitted against another. "I wish my daughter would follow your example," Vinzent half-joked, smirking for emphasis. "Do continue. I will certainly attempt to be of assistance."

Seating herself, Ariadne smiled slightly at Vinzent's joke, and wondered how on earth to explain herself without simply making Corvus angrier. He was hardly the type to broadcast his personal business, so she decided her best bet was to keep it as simple as possible, using as few details as she could without making it difficult for Vinzent to understand her.

"I, erm...well I'm sure you're aware of the...relationship, between Mr. Darrow and myself," she started awkwardly, already feeling like she was treading dangerous ground. "I may have made some assumptions...based on his behaviour...which led me to act similarly, except -- well on short, he's not pleased with me at present. And although the transgression is now weeks and weeks in the past, he's still displeased. Well that's an understatement, I suppose...and I've tried everything I could think, except it's difficult when....he doesn't even want to see me."

Impatient with her own incoherent explanation, she wrung her hands in her lap, looking up at Vinzent with stormy eyes. "Am I even making any sense at all?"

Vinzent nodded as she spoke. Yes, he had observed a few little things about the pair. Ariadne's displeasure at Neris seating herself between the two of them had been quite the giveaway. The notions from the dinner meeting were admittedly little more than assumptions. He hid a smirk upon learning something he had picked up was correct. Instead of speaking Vinzent waited for Ariadne to continue.

Trouble in paradise? Vinzent had all he could do not to shift and lean forward with interest. He listened intently - perhaps even more closely to Ariadne than he had ever listened to his eldest daughter, Charisma. At her inquiry of making sense Vinzent smirked, "I believe so... We are all relegated to the figurative 'house-elf's nest' at some point."

In an instant Vinzent's smirk and humor evaporated. He appeared pensive; calculating. The wizard was curious as to what these assumptions were, though knew asking such a thing would be inappropriate. "Well..." he sighed, reaching a hand up to tend to a vague itch upon his cheek. "How exactly can I be of assistance? Are you looking for ideas how to get his attention, or some other insight into the male psyche?"

Ariadne was relieved that he didn't ask any further questions about the situation; she was still nervous about asking for help as it was. It was difficult to be in the "house-elf's nest," as Vinzent had put it, and more so for Ariadne, who had nothing and no one else but Corvus. All she wanted was forgiveness -- no trickery, no manipulation. But she didn't even know how to ask for it, when she was still so consumed with guilt for what she had done.

"I -- I don't think getting his attention would be the right idea, when he is so consciously fixed upon ignoring me. I don't want to use force, or anything that even smacks of dishonesty. I just...I just want him to forgive me," she admitted, and even as the words left her mouth, she hated herself for her weakness. Corvus would have, too.

"I'm so, very sorry for what happened, and I would do anything to make things right again. And I have been doing everything I can, but it's not enough. He's still angry with me. What it there's nothing I can do? What if he hates me?..." She let the question trail off as her voice began to break; getting hysterical would definitely not do for anyone, and Ariadne felt she'd said quite enough already. Vinzent was not deaf, dumb, or blind: he'd most certainly gotten her point by now.