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She emerged from the crowd in a sparkling red little number that was barely more than lingerie. Dorian’s jaw tensed as he gave her a quick look over before Dorcas launched herself onto his lap. She sang a little to herself which made Dorian give a breathy half-laugh. “Did someone start the party early?” Had she been drinking already or was she just extra affectionate because she knew she could get away with it tonight? It was really anyone’s guess. He leaned as far back into the bench seat as possible to create a bit of space between them, which really was impossible with her sitting on him. His hands held her lightly around the waist, high up enough to avoid her bum but low enough to avoid her bra, if she could even wear one under that thing. It was impossibly tiny, and Dorian felt extremely uncomfortable having her stretch out on his lap in such a manner, but he hid his discomfort well. “Happy birthday, Dorcas. You look –” His eyes traveled to her left leg that was outstretched, then back to her painted eyes, “cold. And gorgeous.” As he spoke, his transfigured fangs were visible, giving a hint to his costume, though only a little as he’d taken everything else from his own wardrobe. “I’m offended you can’t tell, I put so much effort into it.” He hadn’t. He gave his fanged teeth a few chomps in her direction. “I’m a vampire, and you are a… I don’t think I should guess.”

Dorian appreciated the thanks, despite finding it unnecessary. Had an overseas job been brought to his attention, he would have recommended Kit, among a short list of a few others, for the work. They were young and Britain was on the brink of a civil war, they deserved to see something of the world before they were taken from it. This wasn’t a favor he was offering to Kit, not really even though it sounded as such. He was ready and he would do a good job of it, whatever the mission may be. Selfishly, the more Aurors capable of such a wide array of missions, the better it was for Dorian because he would be able to spend more time with his niece. She was growing up far too quickly and he was missing so much of it. Emily had been caring for Ariel when she’d taken her first steps, and he’d been out of the country when she said her first word. He was never gone from her for very long but it was enough to make him stay up at night and fret about the future.

Setting both feet on the ground, Dorian smiled. “She’s well. Growing like a weed.” His eyes held a proud sparkle as he thought of his sweet little angel. He stood and moved once more to his locker, pulling his tie out and running it around the collar of his shirt, looking in the little mirror hung on the inside of his locker door as he tied it properly. “We had her birthday celebration at my flat last month – no, nearly two months ago, and she was absolutely delighted with all the sugary sweets and gifts. There’s not enough space to keep all her new toys.” He gave a small chuckle as he pulled his suit jacket from the wooden hanger and slid his arms through the sleeves. “She’s not spoiled, just well loved, as my mother would have said.” A wave of his wand to fix his hair and Dorian once again looked like his buttoned-up self. He felt immensely better. “How’re your family doing?”

Inebriated enough that the horribly embarrassing nickname ‘Hot Humbert’, which he’d heard Paris’ friends use a number of times when she was alive, didn’t phase him, Dorian gave a short bark-like chuckle at Tersha’s statement. Hollow leg. Not likely. Dorian was definitely not an alcoholic by any means, in fact he rarely drank socially at all, but he’d had enough hard times in his young life that binge drinking was not an unfamiliar activity for the Auror. His parents kidnapped and murdered. His girlfriend murdered in front of him, followed shortly by his newly discovered half-sister and her husband leaving him the guardian for his young niece. These were all reasons to drink once in a while and he had apparently built up a bit of a tolerance, though as Dorcas tugged on his arm and he made to stand, the alcohol hit him faster than he’d been expecting.

He was a smart man and knew better than to argue. Dorcas was right, they needed to leave before things got out of hand. Dorian drinking. Tersha wanting to ‘smack a bitch’. Merlin only knew what hellfire Dorcas would send her cousin’s way if they stayed any longer or, gods forbid, she got drunk. “Right. Very good, then.” He stood, wrapping Dorcas’ arm in his as if escorting her but in fact actually using her to ensure he was stable on his feet as the liquor spread through his body more freely. He didn’t stagger or stumble but he held her back just a moment, waiting to see if Tersha was joining them and extending a hand to help her up. He looked across the table to his half-brother and the trainee he wore on his arm as his date. “Julian, Miss Dearborn, it was a pleasure seeing you this evening.” His eyes gave away that he might have had a bit too much to drink but his words were clear and well-spoken. A good sign. He was looking forward to his bed at home, and not yet realizing that he might have to fend off two randy witches who never failed to make an attempt to get into his pants.

Questions continued to spring to mind as Tristan opened his mouth to greet Dorian politely, and an unmistakable Irish accent popped out. Julian, nor River for that matter, had even the slightest hint of an Irish accent. He’d heard no tale of the family moving to Ireland for a spell, nor of Julian having spent much time in the country on the many occasions he abandoned his parents and sister to bum around like a wild child, though to be fair, he’d not heard much about what Julian got up to when he was away. River’s stories tended to focus on his return from his misadventures and how wonderful it was to have him home for a short time. Dorian’s gaze lifted to look at his half-brother for only a second as Tristan spoke, before turning his eyes back to the young lad.

Their relationship explained, Tristan moved closer to Dorian who waited to be evaluated by the little blond. “I’ve never had a nephew before. It’s fun, isn’t it?” The boy asked about a sleepover and Dorian blinked at his straight forward nature. “Well,” he started carefully, “I think you ought to talk to your father about that first. I bet he has plans for the two of you and you don’t want to miss out on any fun.” A bit of trust went a long way, but surely Julian wouldn’t put so much trust in Dorian on the first day he’d learned that Julian was a father. And truly, with the boy having been absolutely nowhere to be seen for the past eight months, Julian had to be planning to spend some quality time with the child. Dorian would have to create some plans of his own for the evening, because this shocking revelation needed some thinking through, and Andre seemed the perfect person to help Dorian come to grips that he was now an uncle twice over.

Ariel had stumbled from her feet, falling onto her backside with a little plop that made the sweet angel giggle after a brief moment of stunned silence. Both hands clutching a book with two figures on the front cover, flying through the air on brooms. Ariel patted the book excitedly, smiling and giggling in an almost screech-like volume. Dorian smiled proudly as he watched his niece play with the book on the floor in front of her. He wondered if he had been as interested in books at this age, and whether that had anything to do with his love of reading as an adult. He hadn’t thought to ask his parents before their deaths, with no young children in his life then to evoke the thought. Perhaps River had been intrigued with books as a child. Dorian made a mental note to include this as a possible discussion topic with Julian, a task he found himself doing more often. Getting to know his brother and that part of his family was no simple task now that River was gone. Julian was more reserved with which family stories he decided to share, and more closed off in general than their sister had been. It made it difficult to get to know the man but for Ariel’s sake Dorian would put forth the effort.

The little boy who had previously been running amok in the store when they’d arrived had tottered up to Ariel and Dorian noted that he looked much younger than he’d originally expected. Still large for his age, the boy, Maxi, had more chub on his cheeks and in general looked to be not that much older than Ariel. Vienna called her son’s name as Max grabbed the book Ariel had been looking at. Ariel’s eyes followed the book, Dorian’s turned up to the woman moving closer to them. “That’s alright,” Dorian said gently as she guided her son to return the book to Ariel. “We have been working on sharing.” Ariel was a bit young to really understand such a concept, but Dorian felt impolite saying anything to the contrary, and Ariel hadn’t been upset event. She was more intrigued by the little boy, watching him walk around with an ease she’d not yet established.

He was in such an awkward position for greeting someone, especially the estranged sister of his dead girlfriend. Squatting close to the floor near Ariel so that he could point to the pictures and label them for her, Dorian looked up at the woman before rising to his full height, plucking his niece from the floor. Baby tucked against his suit jacket with his left arm, Dorian extended his right hand. “Dorian Humbert,” he said formally. “I believe I knew your sister.” There was no avoiding it now, so he had decided to lean in and simply introduce himself. Perhaps it would help to keep his eyes from lingering on her in a potentially creepy manner if he simply spoke to her.

Tags: Vienna Phoebe Rosier // Word Count: 500 //
Outfit: Obviously // Notes:  

Headed towards the children’s section, a woman passed by them and Dorian felt a swelling of emotion. It had been several months since he’d seen her at the former Minister for Magic’s spring soiree but even longer still since he’d felt this instant rush of happiness her face brought with him. Unencumbered by the expectations of seeing hundreds of somewhat familiar faces, friend and foe, that the Minister’s party had placed on him, Dorian’s first thought at seeing her was Paris. Not that she reminded him of Paris, nor even that she looked like Paris – impossibly so. It was more than a year and a half ago that he’d last felt the warmth of her touch but it was as thought it had only been a day as she passed by him. The illusion was shattered as she leaned down to speak to the child who was running amok in the bookshop, destroying merchandise his mother seemed not to be planning to pay for. The least of her personality flaws, if Paris’ rendition of her family was at all accurate. A happy squeal coming from Ariel as she reached again for a tantalizing book not meant for a child her age reminded Dorian that he was not without his own family drama.

As Paris’ nephew ran off towards the children’s section, Dorian caught sight of Vienna’s posture. Hand rested on the small bump that was her stomach. Raised better than to make a comment on a woman’s figure, Dorian didn’t need to ask in order to know, she was pregnant. It was a strange sight and he had to force his mind to remember that this was not Paris, though logically he knew it. A brief moment of evaluation was all the time he spent on Vienna before continuing on with Ariel to let her pick out a new book. She was taking a few steps here and there now, so when they arrived at the little corner filled with colorful cardboard and felt covered books, Dorian unbuckled her from her seat and allowed Ariel to totter while clutching the shelf. “That’s a good choice,” he remarked to his niece as she pulled on a bright red book with big yellow block letters on the front that read ‘ABC’. A picture of an apple, a broomstick, and a cauldron on the front. Ariel let the book fall to the ground, tracking it with her eyes before looking to the next book on the shelf. "Not sure about it, then? Alright. We'll keep shopping." Dorian knelt by his niece, picking each book up after she dropped it to the floor and trying to draw her attention back to it in the hopes she might take more of an interest in one if she saw the brightly colored, moving pictures inside.

Tags: Vienna Phoebe Rosier // Word Count: 469 //
Outfit: Obviously // Notes:  

He had started the evening respectably enough, ordering a single drink and waiting a brief moment with his empty glass before he politely requested another without having to flag the waiter down. Tersha, on the other hand, had her bottle of vodka and was doing quite well with it. He’d helped her out a bit while waiting on the server for his own drink, mixing his whiskey with vodka and not bothering to keep in mind the old witch’s tale warning against such a thing. Stolen glances down the table caused a swelling pain in his chest. The smart thing to do would have been to simply stop looking toward Paris’ sister, Vienna, but it was an almost compulsive need he had in that moment to look upon her. To imagine it was Paris, alive and well, smiling that strange smile that Vienna had that reminded him all too brutally that Paris was gone. Time passed quickly and had the waitstaff not been so attentive there would have been a steadily growing, impressive collection of empty glasses forming around Dorian’s dinner plate.

Forgotten was his brother sitting across the way with his age-inappropriate girlfriend. Forgotten was the minister for magic sitting at the head of the table, technically his boss if you followed the chain of command back far enough. Forgotten, even, was Dorcas until she appeared and questioned him, to which he stared at her blankly for just a moment before his eyes moved purposefully toward Vienna. “I wasn’t aware your cousin would be here,” he said in what he intended to be a matter of fact tone but gave off an annoyed undertone, hinting only an incy bit at the amount of alcohol he had consumed thus far. “I knew they were twins, but…” They simply looked too similar. How on Earth was that possible? Sober Dorian would have known that answer but he had left, leaving something more than buzzed Dorian in his place. At least the rest of the gala’s guests had gotten a little rowdier, a little noisier in their comfort and drink so that his demeanor was not drawing him unwanted attention.

Sliding an empty glass in front of Dorcas’ setting at the table, Dorian then reached for the bottle of vodka that Tersha had ordered. “Do you mind?” he asked, not wanting to just steal her drink away from her but at the same time he was almost certain that Tersha would share with her best friend, Dorcas. It would have been so much easier had the Minister simply sat the women together and put Dorian on the end, but no matter how many times tonight Dorian stated as much in his head, it just wasn’t the situation they were faced with. At least the evening had descended into something a little more casual and Dorian wouldn’t feel quite so awkward if he wanted to swap chairs with one of the witches later in the evening, though the idea hadn’t yet come to mind.