Closed Tying Off Loose Ends pv

Hess was on the surface a rather 'normal' appearing teen, he liked to play pen and paper games and girl watching. He was the average slightly nerdy teen. He had some 'questionable associations' mostly to do with his pedigree, his cousins were rather infamous for a number of incidents. The only one he truly regretted was the one that affected him and it was not the death of Vladimir Athanatos contrary ton popular presumption. It was a smaller, more forgettable incident that was perpetrated by the late Vladimir. Nearly killed a friend of his, and while he survived there was a psychological cost. In time his mind recovered and perhaps Galton had forgotten but he did not.

He did not want Vladimir to die but perhaps it was not a terrible thing that he did.

He was running an errand when Santario Martin approached her. Mid-day, early afternoon under the light of the sun. He had dropped off a letter for Howard White at the behest of his uncle, he was not privy to the contents and he had learned a long time ago that the less you know the better off you are. He was making connections of his own, trying to live his own life with the knowledge that he could easily be transplanted again at the whim of his family. It was an unsettling truth he had come to terms with but in a few short years it would be over and he knew it

He had grown since she had seen him last, he was almost as tall as Vladimir was when she had last seen him. Besides height however and perhaps attire, that stuffy overdressed presence and needlessly erect posture, they were very different people. Dark hair and features that favored his Asian descent, he often wore glasses unlike the rest. He was running a secondary errand, one that was of his own making. He was returning to the cabin, being mid day and having left hours earlier, he had the need to look into something. Only he would not have the opportunity to find what he was looking for on this day.

“Hess? Jürgen Hess?”

A voice he did not know called out to him. For whatever reason, there was this sense of panic, he felt as if he had just taken a drop on a rollercoaster. He had this sense that he should run, not that he had any idea why but this instinct was something he could betray. So he stopped rather than run but he could hear his heartbeat in his ears. He had perfected the stone face of indifference as he turned to face her.

"Yes?" He replied, looked over, perhaps down at the girl who called out to him. He was vaguely familiar with her, although it was more the recognition of a face he had seen before in Hogwarts. Something that was already obvious by her accent. "I'm him... but who needs to know?" Or more importantly, why?

@Jürgen Hess
Jürgen was taller than she had expected, and the height difference reminded her of him. At some point in time, she would need to find a way to stop being so hung up; she knew it wasn’t healthy. Not having grieved properly wasn’t healthy in general, but if there was something that people would not accuse Santario of, it would be having healthy coping mechanisms.

She swallowed hard as he confirmed his identity and took a deep breath. Fear has no more room in your life. Do what you need to do. A small portion of confidence she could give herself before extending her hand to the boy. “Martin, Santario Martin. I apologize for ambushing you this way, but I was told you might be able to help me…” Her voice trailed off a second. If he rejected the handshake, her hand would turn to her side, and San would carry on. “Vlad told me you might be able to help me.” San had no idea exactly how deep Vlad’s whole family could be in this, only that they were one of the most influential families in existence, and if anyone could help, it would be them.

Did she expect Jürgen to connect her name with her aunt or her parents? Not really; the only hope was that Vlad hadn’t been wrong. Santario’s voice lowered, assuming everything around them could be listening. “I have been trying to get more information on the assassination of my parents and the murder of my aunt. He told me you might be able to help. I already know their names.” Santario had no idea what Jürgen would want in exchange for his help if he could help, but as time carried on, she got more desperate. There was no telling what she might be willing to pay if the ends justified it.

“Martin, Santario Martin. I apologize for ambushing you this way, but I was told you might be able to help me…”

His face and demeanor changed when she gave him her name. He knew the name, not the girl behind it. He had a strange relationship with the late heir apparent. There was a pecking order in his family and there was a sense of loyalty that accompanied his bloodline expectations. He was loyal to Vladimir until he no longer needed to be, it might sound harsh to some but compliance can be bought. He also had ambitions of his own, so there was a guilty part of him that was thankful the foolish heir was dead. He no longer needed to facilitate his foolishness, his madness and could finally live his own life.

“Vlad told me you might be able to help me.”

Or so he thought. Even from the grave you plight me so... his ambition was to be finally free, to no longer be beholden to the whim of another. He had no want for 'power' beyond autonomous independence. A fate that he had been forever denied, unseen tethers bound him to his family and their dark legacy. "He did, did he?" He asked rhetorically as he glanced about himself. Who was watching? Were they watching? They were always watching, why would it matter now...

"No," he shook his head apologetically. "Of course, he did, sorry," he apologized as dictated by social convention. "He spoke of you," he forced a smile. It was not a lie; the discussion was not talk between mates but rather a discussion of objectives. "I am sorry for your loss," he added stiffly. He did not want him, or anyone to die, but he was secretly relieved in having one less master. He also resented his cousins for essentially killing Vladimir, there were plenty that needed to die and while Vlad was a fool, his heart was remotely in the 'right' place. One day he might have been content to follow him, just not the young fool he was today.

“I have been trying to get more information on the assassination of my parents and the murder of my aunt. He told me you might be able to help. I already know their names.”

He noticeably deflated when she said that. He knew who she was talking about, he knew who her parents were, and he knew who killed them. "That," he said empathetically with a frown and an awkward silence. The gears in his head were turning, he did not know what Vladimir had told her. The lovesick fool he was, he could only assume 'too much.' "He never told me that he told you," he admitted. He was dragging his feet, trying to delay the inevitable even if it was for a few moments. Perhaps he would find an answer in this intermission. The best he could muster was, "what had he told you?" She might know nothing; he might have told her everything. There was no way for him to be certain.

Depending on her answer, he might be forthcoming with more.

"There was a vision involving the three of them -- Abbandon Flint, Gideon Bulstrode and Loralei Yaxley. They are very much alive and will kill again, the red thread of fate had already marked their next victim," he explained. "But I do not know who they will kill, only that they will suffer terribly and that the flowers were lovely on that day... in full bloom." There was much he withheld, there always was. He did not tell her that the vision of the murder was seen as a result of Divination performed at their collective behest in Circe. That they are regular customers. That the victim was irrelevant, the vision was to answer their question which was paid for with sufficient coin - would their assassination be successful?

He withheld more, perhaps there was a modicum of loyalty to his late cousin after all. "They are dangerous folk, eventually they will pay for their crimes even if the threads of fate have not announced their end," he added. "The best help I can offer you is to move in the direction opposite of where they might be," a suggestion he knew she would reject. "You won't honor them or anyone else if you're dead too."

He knew that she would not be victorious, so she would either fail, suffer or die. Perhaps all three, because he knew that they would kill again.

@Jürgen Hess
As Jürgen offered his condolences, a crack in her facade showed, her jaw clenched as the hint of tears tried to gather in her eyes, gaze momentarily adverted. He had spoken of her? She desperately wanted to ask what Vlad had said, and it was evident when she stared back up at him. It didn’t matter that she was with someone now; a part of her heart would always lay buried with him. “Yours as well.” She would manage.

As he stalled, a tactic she was familiar with, Vladimir often had done the same when he wanted to withhold information from her, which was all the time. “He did not tell me as much as I wanted. Only that I should speak to you because your branch of the family had business with them…And that you were probably a safer option to seek.” Like with Vladimir, she was honest with him; there would be nothing for her to gain if she was caught lying to him.

He finally continued, and she listened like a starving child being handed bread; not one crumb would be missed. She knew they were alive, or she assumed they were skilled. She had watched them do their work on her parents and still escape the ministry. “If Vladimir told you anything about me, the fact that I am infuriatingly stubborn should have been one of them. I watched the work they did on my parents. I hear my father and mother scream whenever I fall asleep.” Her jaw set as she did her best to stave her temper. She was not angry with Jürgen; he was only doing what she had asked him to. “I see Gideon, Abbandon, and Loralei’s faces Every. Single. Night. How do any of you expect me to let that be? Vladimir always said that I cannot help if I am dead. Then what am I supposed to do?! I have lost enough; I am not afraid to die.” The moment she mentioned Vlad in the past tense, tears spilled from her eyes running down her cheeks, but she only seemed more resolute in her stance. “Would you run? Hide? I see his face every night now, too, because I failed him. I failed everyone. If I fail at this, at least I tried.” She was good at looking happy daily, and she fooled everyone around. No one alive knew just how deep her wounds ran except, for now, Jürgen. “I’m stupid and a waste of time. I have heard it already, but what else is there to do when all I can see is them?”

Damn, he told her that they had business with them. Why would he be so damned foolish! That was like telling a child where you keep the bullets to the gun that you had hidden in the study and expecting that they would 'let things be.' "He should not have told you that," Hess grumbled. They did have business, more specifically they worked for them. Their wealth was from legitimate dealings but the people with whom they did business with were not always the savoriest of characters.

He would meet her eyes, if there was pain in them, he would see it and he would empathize. She claimed to be stubborn, a facet Vladimir had not warned him about, but he could not discuss much with him when he was dead. "If he knew that, then telling you anything would only serve to torture you more," this was an act of mercy, but it surely would not feel like it. "He was leading you on," he lied in part. Perhaps it was even the truth, he told a pretty girl about a subject that she was interested in for the purpose of tethering her to him. "Look, you're drop dead gorgeous," well that was not a lie. Hell, he might even be telling her the complete truth. "He was leading you on..." he as telling the truth; but he was an idiot. A part of him did not believe he would be dumb enough as to share everything, in fact he was certain that was the truth because he knew enough himself. Vlad did not want the guilt of brushing her off, of lying so sent her to him. "I get it... I'd consider the gambit myself," but he would not do it. He had some standard apparently. "They came to us," she already knew that. "We did a reading," well he did a reading. That was why he knew about the flowers. "They wanted to know if their next quarry would be successful," he explained. It was a rather rudimentary and common reason for ne'er do wells in truth -- of Kings and businessmen also. To seek the future from the threads of fate, to know what moments are fixed and what moments were not so that they might prepare or change the circumstances in the prelude or postlude. "They succeeded, or rather will success," he corrected. It might have already happened for all he knew; the guess was spring or summer considering the fact that flowers were in bloom.

"So yes, run... hide," he encouraged her empathetically. "Wait until they fail, otherwise your vengeance will be the regret they won't have when you are just another bloodstain," his voice sounded hard when he said that. He saw what they could do. What they would do. "Vladimir was a selfish prick for ever telling you anything," he had no reverence for the dead when they were doing (or did) something stupid. Admittedly he was angry with the Ravenclaw, the dumbest bird he had ever dealt with. Even dead, he was still cleaning up his messes.

"I'd rather you be pissed off at me and traumatized than dead, they enjoyed what they are doing to do," past or future tense, it was hard to get straight where there were so many possibilities. Probabilities. "And I doubt it is the Endless Night alone," he urged. Her life would be wasted, forfeited for a vengeance she would not have. not yet at least.

@Jürgen Hess
He would have seen the pain in her. Emotional wounds laid open and fresh like a newly printed book. Santario became eerily silent and calm as he continued to speak, almost as if someone had flipped a switch. She closed the book while wiping away the tears from her face that she willed to stop. This needed to stop. She needed to stop breaking down in front of people she didn’t know. The more he spoke ill of Vlad, the more steeled she became; even if it had been true, she knew what she had felt… knew it now anyway. Too little too late. If it had been all year for her, she might have been more healed than she was. However, she had only been herself for less than half a year. Everything was still fresh.

She needed to be less emotional and more objective; he mentioned flowers before and once again. “You are special too. It was randomly but factually stated and in a completely different direction from their conversation. “It is a guess. I do not care if you deny it. I doubt anything can traumatize me more than I have. You have heard the tip of the iceberg. Tell me one last thing if you can. Why should I hide? I know you are withholding information; I am used to that, but it is a theme with both of you that I should hide. It is a particular recommendation; the only reason to hide is if someone is after you or if you are needed for something.” She stared hard at him. If he was anything like Vlad, he would be looking to flee this conversation very shortly, a trait that seemed to run in their family. “Why should I hide Jürgen?” She should have asked Vladimir that long ago, but she was never certain he would have told her. His cousin might.

He really hated it when girls cried. There was some sort of white knight syndrome that kicked in. He wanted it to stop. There was this sense of anger and agitation that accompanied the tears. Not against her but rather against Vlad for putting her in this vulnerable position. he had no business telling her that they were alive and well, that they had some sort of link. In the course of the conversation, he too had let something unfortunate slip, he would not realize it at the moment but perhaps at a later point the girl would have an epithany.

"If he meant it, truly meant it," he replied "he would have lied." Hess insisted. "You're tortured by a past that you have no control over against people you have no power over," he continued. What he was saying made sense. "What Vlad did was cruel," he admitted a truth that he would dare not say had the teen been alive. "He told you a terrible truth about something he knew you would not be able to pull yourself from. Against opponents you cannot defeat... when he could have remained silent. When he could have lied and told you they were dead, faced your wrath on a later day when you were able to face them in the afterglow of long-waited vengeance. You would have been mad but you would have forgiven him eventually," Jurgen claimed. Maybe he was being too honest at this moment. He would have lied. He would have told her that they died in prison, that they were buried in an unmarked grave. He would have claimed that they suffered terribly. But then she would have had no reason to stay. No reason unless she wanted to be with him.

He really did not know what Vladimir had planned or why he shared what he did, but Vladimir was hardly a victim even if his legacy was one of suffering. The boy was wealthy and privileged beyond imagination. His deal with those hags was his choice and his curse, the one that ultimately cost him his life was something he allowed. People suffered and died because of his selfishness and his pride, people like Victor. Spoiled as he was, he always thought he could pay for an out. Make a deal with a crone, ask for father for some pocket change, order his cousins to do his juvenile bidding. He really did resent Vladimir more than he was willing to admit.

"He told you enough to hook you," Jurgen claimed. He sounded certain even if in truth it was a presumption. He was starting to piece it together; through whatever semblance of grief and guilt he had experienced these past few months. "He wanted you to need him, but he did not want you to find them, the reason why was simple -- he wanted to be with you, and you probably did not want to be with him. So, he was going to trap you by his side and eventually find a way to throw money at your problems to make them go away." He really did think that Vladimir cared, "he told us if we let you get hurt, he would do something way worse than dying." Vladimir could do things with people's heads. Change things, see things. Hidden things. Broken things. He could break and twist and bend. Make a man someone that they should not be if he wanted. He was terrifying. Hess shrugged, "he cared... but that did not make him a good person." He really was not.

He paused, slumped his shoulders. "Look, I'm not a good person either. Nor is anyone in my whole family," he was trying to do right even if it made him out to be an asshole. "You do not get as rich as we are, or as powerful for that matter by doing the right thing. There is no benefit to hurting you, only net loss." what was the worst she could do to him, give him sour looks or reject his request to take her to a dance? He was not going to try, and he had Marion. A mistake he would fully comprehend later. "Their galleons spend like anyone else's; they get what they want from us. If they come back," and eventually they will "they will likely get another reading where we see them kill some nice lady and it keeps us up for weeks. We know they will be there, that they will survive and succeed so that means if you go for them you will fail. There is no other outcome, the future is absolute." It was a plea to save her life, a life that was in truth meaningless to him. He did not know her. He would not miss her. He would not be punished for her transgressions, her failure and her ultimate ends. He had no reason to save her.

@Jürgen Hess | @Orion Lécuyer
She observed him weighing every word he spoke as Anubis weighed a soul on a scale. He said things she didn’t want to hear, but who wanted to listen to what was probably the truth? He saw Vlad as a villain, and while Santario understood that Vladimir was not a good person, she saw him as insecure. Someone that felt like they had to do certain things because they were desperate for the results. When in truth, he might have had it anyway. How was she any different? It didn’t matter now. Vladimir was dead, and he was never coming back.

Santario chuckled slightly when he was finished. “You act as if I am a good person. You know it is ironic. He tried not to tell me. He tried to deny me. I was adamant in my pursuit of him. I found ways to corner him where my making a scene would detriment him, and I knew it. If anyone was using the other, it was me using him. One day, how I looked at him changed, and he stopped being just a source of information. I wanted to help him, cure his affliction, and be with him. I had never truly felt that way about anyone before, and I did not recognize it in time, mainly because he did not tell me outright, something I would have needed then. I was conflicted, and the way Vlad pushed me away made me think he would not have been interested until he asked me to the ball. I was sick then, and we missed our chance, and then he was gone. You know a different Vladimir than I did, and perhaps he relented in an attempt to tether me, as you say, but he did not need to. He had access; he should have known... I would have followed him into the depths of hell. I just wish I had realized it before… Well.” She cleared her throat and looked away from him for a second, a hand running through her hair. “Thank you, Jürgen. I will do my best to not involve you in the future. If our paths cross again, I hope we are allies.” With her monologue finally finished, she would listen to whatever else he might have to say, but if he asked her no questions, she would turn and take her leave. She needed to find Orion, at the least send him an owl if he wasn’t there.

Santario attempts to leave unless asked a question

He had no reason to believe that she would make any effort to remain safe. he could sleep well knowing he did not contribute to her likely premature demise. He made a soundless sigh as she announced her intended departure. There were fixed moments that would happen no matter what she did, it was the unknown... those variables that were undecided. What was certain was their continued existence, at least for the time.

Of course, while he tried to give her nothing she would take something small from brief discussion. Why they were killing, while that was a far cry from who, it was the dark link that was missing from this story. A link he had failed to understand, even now how it fit into the death and chaos that defined even his life.

He would walk away, pausing suddenly when something washed over him. Like a tide that stole away his breath. He saw something, a vision.

Roots broke through the earth, black and gnarled. The severed earth overturned, the roots would encroach upon a wall made of grey stone. Initially it was too close, one would try as they may to identify what or where the site of this vision was, it was too close to tell at first... then the vision panned out, as if they had stumbled back away from the breech. It as the stone edifice of Hogwarts castle. The wall would tremble, the mortar would crumble and the wall would break. The wall broken, the rubble nary a barrier as something dark skittered over the fractured remains of the wall. The moonlight illuminated the profile of these creatures, their dark chitinous form. They resembled the spiders, unique in their physical form due to a strange segment in their thorax that was unique to Vladimir's spiders for those who had seen them. Only, these were not mere shadows, they had a terrible, true form. These were corporeal and they were many.

There would be laughter, then there would be screams.

This same vision would be shared by every Seer 3^rd year and above.

He would be left gasping for air, alone. Several minutes would have passed but for him it was barely a blink of an eye.

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