Sunlight glittered in slanting shafts through the gathering of statuary casting shiftless shadows, and pools of gold that enhanced the vivid greens of the grass that grew in thick, wild tangles all over among the stony protrusions of the historical site. In a dismal corner of the rambling area, surrounded by over grown vegetation there was an unremarkable gravestone, the name unreadable due to the years that had passed: The stone worn and soft from exposure. Perched atop this particular gravestone was not, as one might expect, a statue: There sat a real living, breathing human being; though for all her animation she might as well have been a statue.

Ire perched atop the grave marker, her eyes staring distantly out over the cemetery without really seeing it; mentally she was a million miles away. In her lap rested a twist of snakes that had come to join her; several others twined in the tangled weeds at the base of her 'seat' or sunned themselves atop other nearby stones. Her shoes and socks had been kicked off, laying beside her backpack with all its magical compartments as it rested against the side of the headstone. Ire herself sat on the apex of the aged stone, one foot bent at the knee to brace her bare foot against her perch, while her other leg dangled toward the overgrown ground; the arm parallel to her bent leg rested atop her knee, while the other hand was buried among the snakes clinging to her and each other. Danh, Ophion, and Aapep lay around her shoulders, silent; not even arguing for a change.

The only sound was the hiss of distant tires over the pavement, the soft contented slurs of the snakes, and the sharp cracking caw of a murder of crows. Her fingers slid over the soft, silky bodies of her reptilian companions, enjoying the cool feeling of scales beneath her fingertips as she contemplated her next step in the chess game of life: She didn't have to work out to many steps on her current playing field, after all school would be starting soon. At the same time she'd found herself trapped in a surprising play.

------

She'd decided to try her hand at apparation again to get back home after her little jaunt around Diagon Alley, so after finding a secluded place in the shadows of Knockturn she'd done as Grandfather had taught her, and with a faint crack returned disappeared to find herself reappearing in the overgrown yet well kept garden behind her parents home. Immediately her muscles had tensed up with the feeling of wrongness that seemed to tickle the back of her skull like a sixth sense. Standing there as she contemplated the back of her home she toyed with the idea of turning right back around and avoiding the whole affair: Ire was often out to save only her own skin, and the last time she'd felt this sort of looming gloom and doom had been the other night at Riddle Manor, and we all know that had gone to hell in the proverbial hand basket.

-Catssss again.- Aapep hissed, sounding disgusted.

Ire's mildly perplexed expression cleared to immediate blankness, she knew what the runespoor meant when it referred to 'cats' in that tone now, and it certainly had nothing to do with felines. Her fingers twitched on her wand, and the wood felt warm and comforting in it's magic beneath her fingertips. Moving forward she tried to use as little movement as possible to quiet the rustle of her shifting robes. She prowled up the steps to the back door, and found it open slightly; her finger ghosted over the solid wood and pressed ever so slightly allowing the door to quietly swing further open; the hinges protesting minutely. The silence in the house was intense, though distantly the muffled sound of the Television set could be heard. Ire tilted her head, and stepped slowly through the open portal into the cool gloom of the hallway. Lifting her wand she leveled it before her, slipping toward the front of the house. There was no sound of movement, no sound of life. Idly she wondered if she was being overly paranoid, but the reminded of Aapep's words kept her from worrying over the thought to much.

The muscles in her back spasmed slightly as a low growl, and a sharp hiss broke the quiet and she whipped around, wand pointing toward the source of the sound to see one of her mother's cats glaring at her around the banister of the stairwell. Giving another yowl the feline raced back up the stairs, tail as thick as railing itself. Further unsettled Ire narrowed her eyes suspiciously and crept toward the front room, the sound of the television growing louder, and clearer, with each step. Peering around the door frame she could see some news program droning about the forecast for the week, but no signs of her parents.

-In the kitchen...- Danh started, his words trailing off in an unfinished hiss; hesitation evident.

Aapep was never so sensitive, and actually gave something like a giggle -Tastes like bite woundsss.-

Ire felt a vague sense of amusement at the Critics tone, he'd almost sing-songed. It was an odd sound to hear in the snake tongue, really. The words themselves, however, incurred an amount of trepidation in her. Her feet carried her towards the kitchen and she peered inside, flicking her glance around. Ire froze, doing something of a double take as her mind processed the crimson stains congealing on the counter tops, and spattered like modern art over the cub boards. Something painful flared in her chest that she couldn't understand, it ached beneath her breast bone with a hollow throb, and she stood there staring blankly as she mired in confusion.

Ire's wand lowered to dangle at her side, her features blank. She wasn't one to thrive in desire so she accepted the moment she saw the blood that her parents were likely dead; blood usually meant Muggles were at the heart of it, and if the runespoor said it was cats... NecoVenficus, she supposed. Turning her thoughts from the analytical aspect of the situation to examine the odd pain in her chest. Ire's face wore more expression then, than it probably ever did: Her brows furrowing in confused concentration. Then it hit her: She stood at a cross roads, she was feeling something. Here she stood; she could grab onto these emotions, set herself loose from the control that bound her... Fly free of her gilded cage... Yet even as she contemplated the act, and the part of her that always craved the freedom and happiness that her earliest years had held fluttered against the bars of her mental cage like a wounded bird... She felt the 12 years of conditioning rising up; swallowing the emotion. In that moment the headway her 'friendship' with Yemon and Ziggy had made toward her emotions was shattered like a glass bobble someone had taken a hammer to.

She knew she'd never feel it again, and as the apathy settled around her once more like a favored cloak she didn't care. Emotions were things that happened to other people, in Ire's opinion. That or things people made up. She wasn't sure; this was just about the only time she could recall 'feeling' an emotion. Oh, she play acted normalcy well enough... Emotions for Ire were like soap bubbles, they arose, fizzed for a moment then popped: Never to be seen again. Life, was a game and the rules were all about Power and Control.

The insistent hissing of her runespoor finally broke through to the girl, and she turned away from the scene, “It doesn't matter.” She told the snake, the hissing words flowing off her tongue in bored indifference. As far as she was concerned it really didn't matter.

------

After that she'd sent a message to Grandfather to inform him of what had occurred, or as far as she could tell then grabbed her still packed things; added a few of her other belongings from her room and apparated out to the first place to come to mind: The Cemetery she'd seen when she'd been at the Manor. So, here she was... Back in Little Hangleton again, pondering what to do next. She wasn't particularly perturbed by this turn in affairs, but she had to figure out where to stay until term started. She had plenty of money, but the idea of availing herself of the company of strangers as distasteful at best. She kicked her heel slightly, it was a shame her 'friends' were currently pissed off at her.

-Wrath...- Ophion murmured distantly.

“Yes?” She smirked vaguely at the nickname; it was they, her runespoor, that had gifted her with it. She liked it, found it fitting.

-Your plans?- Danh this time, always wanting to know what came next.

“I'm not sure yet...”

-Just leave her be.- Scolded Aapep. -Everything will be fine, and besides its one step closer in the direction we were pursuing to begin with.-

“Mm. All that remains is the Old Bastard.” She drawled, dragging her hands through the knot of serpents in her lap. “And he is still useful to me, Grandfather is...” Giving a soft sound, that could have been taken for humor, Ire drifted back into her own mind as the runespoor on her shoulders started arguing again. For now she simply enjoyed the quiet gloomy atmosphere that surrounded the area despite; or perhaps, in spite of the sunshine.

What bothered Ire the most about the whole affair was the lack of definitive answer: She suspected it was NecoVeneficus because of her runespoors words, as well as the blood. While it was true that some spells could be... messy... it was also true that most wizards seemed to prefer to either avoid killing, or the use of the unforgiveable. However, on the other hand if it had been NecoVenficus that had invaded her home... How had they found out? Her Father had forsaken magic when he'd fled America to be with her Mother. She couldn't remember how many times she'd had to listen to her Grandfather rail on about the faults of her parentage. The old bastard could go on for hours about how she was 'filthy' and 'no better than she ought to be.' Ire scoffed softly under her breath at the thought.

-Wrath?- Danh interrupted her thoughts once more.

"We'll probably stay at the Leaky Cauldron for the remainder of the summer." She said monotonously before the snake could begin to question her again. While she didn't like the idea of staying there... She couldn't very well return home, what with the damned muggles knowing about the nature of the people living there. "It is, perhaps, not the safest of places, but with other witches and wizards there we have a higher percentage of escape if it comes to it." Yes, that was Ire for you; She'd sell out the innocent population to save her own hide for the most part. Her own self was the most important thing to her at current, she could care less about the rest of the world.

-See, I told you she'd come through.- Aapep spat, giving Danh as furious a look a snake could muster over the top of Ophion.

-I never said she wouldn't, wither tongue.- Danh retorted sounding supremely offended that he would ever doubt their Wrath.

-We're all just walking through the nightmare stages of our dream, you two are simply adding to the fog about us.- Ophion interrupted laconically.

Ire sighed, the damn runespoor talked more than she did... Of course, she rarely conversed with anything else but the snake so she wasn't surprised the thing was chatty. "Hush you three, your sniping is ruining the ambiance."

-Ambiance?!- Aapep sounded incredulous there. -Wrath, my dear, you are bumming around a graveyard in your pretty robes...

"You sound like someones wife, Aapep." She shot back, voice just as cool and cold as ever, though there was a vague smirk curling her lips and she felt that tiny spark of amusement that only her beloved serpent (and a few other things) could inspire in her.

-Or your nanny.- Danh quipped in good nature, apparently pleased that they had managed to raise Ire's spirits even if no one else could tell.

-She needs a nanny.- Aapep said sourly. -Or at least someone to hold her leash.- Ire immediately tensed at those words.

-Aapep!- Ophion and Danh hissed in chorus, and Aapep hissed unintelligible platitudes realizing this was one of those moments where he was very close to getting himself torn off their shared body.

"Be quiet, you stupid snake." Ire snapped, her voice dripping with chill. The snakes in her lap had were looking up with wary gazes, and a few others had slipped off into the grass. Ire was well aware of the puppet strings that guided her movements, that she couldn't seem to cut away... She didn't much care for the reminder.

The runespoor fell silent, Aapep rather wishing he could find a hole while the other two hissed quiet baleful sounds at the third, and Ire submersed herself into her own mind again, eyes looking toward the hazy horizon listlessly.

She didn't know how long she'd been there, or how long it had been since this morning: Time seemed to have stopped meaning anything hours ago. She could hardly care, she had no where to be and no one to look for her: She was essentially, completely free. It was a strange, and exotic idea for her. She, who lived her almost every moment under the intense pressure of her Grandfather's thumb. It was an exhilarating taste of what she could achieve, and flowed over her tongue like a fine wine.

Reaching up she tugged slightly at the restrictive collar of her expensive stormy gray robes; while they looked nice they were uncomfortable as far as she was concerned: Particularly with the brilliant heat of the sun beating down on her; her only saving grace was that she hadn't seen fit to wear black. Still the stormy gray was almost as bad. Wrinkling her nose ever so slightly her attention was drawn from her inner consideration of her clothing by a slight ripple in the lazy hissing of the snakes around her: They no longer simply muttered about sunbathing, prey spots, silly daily living things: no they muttered about something. An unknown, the tasteless; scentless something. Ire tipped her head, curious as to this sudden shift in the sounds of her serpentine companions, and considered the snakes with a scrutinizing gaze.

-Wrath!- Danh spat suddenly.

She brought her head up from her contemplation of the snakes lazing around her: The shift of something drew her attention; a translucent figure drifting soundlessly from behind a tombstone only a few lengths away. If she was surprised at the sight of a ghost coming toward her she certainly didn't show it, her features remained as blank and emotionless as ever, though one of her brows did raise slightly in curiosity. The figures shape was vague: Hard to see as sunlight cut through the thin mist that made up the form, if she looked hard enough she could make out a charming smile on a male looking face. She hadn't really expected to see a phantom here, hadn't expected any form of company at all beyond the snakes: Ire liked to spend time surrounded by snakes when she could; it was a sort of comfort thing for her.

The girl gently eased her hand free from the mass of snakes gathered across her thighs lifting the hand to run two of her fingers over the Planner head of the runespoor draped loosely around her shoulders and released a soft hiss through her lips, it was simple nonsense meant to keep her familiar quiet. The snake was used to Ire chit-chatting with specters, she did it all the time at Hogwarts... They were dead useful: Always knowing so many interesting things. Students tended to ignore them, and the portraits, they were always the best sources of information in Ire's 'network.' She relaxed a little more: Having tensed slightly when the three headed snake had hissed her nickname in warning, she didn't mind spirits; had it been a regular human though. The very thought made her mood sour again slightly.

Drawn from her inner musings by the sound of the ghost speaking to her she brought her gaze to focus on the shimmering figures features, the words he spoke nearly surprised a snort of amused disdain out of her, but instead just caused her to raise a brow archly, “I think it's the perfect place to sit.” She responded in that cool, flat tone of hers. Glancing off into the side she lifted a hand to indicate the complete solitude of the area, her robes rustling quiet from the movement, “After all, it's rather pleasant.”

-Ambiance, she says!- Aapep hissed grouchily, ignoring whatever warning Ire had given him in favor of having his say. -And out in all her finery to boot, what if a muggle comes along, eh? What then?-

-Be quiet, you doddering nit! I think Our Wrath has had enough of your infernal cheek for the day, as have the two of us.- Danh retorted.

-Oh? And what are you going to do about it, flap jaw?- Aapep sniped back.

Ophion issued a long drawn out hissing sigh of exasperation.

Ire ignored the runespoor, much too used to their bickering to give it any real mind, instead she gave her attention to the ghost, “I doubt most of the dead care if they have visitors.” She replied cynically. “Unless it's maggots, but I doubt they want them either.” Her sense of humor was perhaps a bit disgusting, and morbid: But what would this ghost care? What did it really matter anyway? It was the truth, it was reality, people on the whole just didn't like having the cold hard facts pointed out to them; stupid, blind, pitiful fools.

“As for this sorry fool?” She patted the worn stone of the grave marker she was perched upon. “He is nothing to me but a convenient place to sit.” Or she, Ire amended silently: She hadn't even taken the time to read the headstone, she'd just perched herself on it since it was the nearest likely candidate when she'd Apparated in.

Ire didn't know anyone in this cemetery, really: Well, beyond the obvious of course, anyone with half a brain cell knew about the place now-a-days, it was part of the reason she'd chosen the place: Most people didn't want to come here because of the connotations it held. On the whole though it was just the first thing to pop into her mind, she'd seen the vague foggy outline of it from the roof of the Manor the other day. It had made the apparation tricky, but she'd managed it without killing herself in the process: There was no ministry to clean up mishaps anymore.

“And what of you? Here to have a party with the like minded?” She drawled, waving her hand at the tombstones around her once more in indication of what she meant.