StarFire
The ball is in full swing as she strides in, lips painted red as blood, stark in contrast to the sable ringlets which cascade down to the small of her back.
The hall is brightly lit and yet the shadows seem to cling to her like a second skin, the darkness lending her a feral grace which proclaims her macabre devotion. Her nails are varnished black, an inky coating which mirrors the desecration within her soul.
She's the darkest of stars, the heart of her family's evil. Never has she feared the chaos that darkness brings, instead she revels in it, choosing to conflict with that which hides within the light.
Black has ever been her colour, sultry and sinful in equal measure, damnation awaiting all those who meet her eyes and see the manic energy that lights them. She devours fear, hate and violence, gorging herself on the abstract concepts of negativity and bloodshed.
Her dress is fluid and lustrous, hugging her sensual silhouette and leaving nought to the imagination. She is akin to the most venomous of serpents, already bearing the Mark upon her forearm, concealed beneath the lace and silk.
She is proud to serve her Lord.
The room has fallen silent. She does not care. Their envy is palpable and she feasts, growing bloated with their desires. They want to be her. They want her.
They whisper her name.
"Bellatrix Black."
(*)(*)(*)
Just as her predecessor draws the malignity of the room, so does she expel it from her presence. Her brunette tresses fall to her waist, framing her aristocratic features and masking her true loyalties.
The light cast by the many flames swirl around her, blinding all who dare glance upon her and question her heart.
She's a different sort of star, perhaps one that lies in its own universe. Her constellation shines brightest, lighting the way for those who seek to walk the most obscure of pathways in search of redemption.
Hers is a beauty that is both within and without, one that is not wholly accepted by those who bear her blood. Her sister may choose to bring about chaos, to poison the world with malice – she has chosen to heal it.
She is proud to love a mudblood.
Black has never been her colour. Instead she moves with a grace and poise that belies a fiery determination, the likes of which her ancestors has never seen. She is not content to follow their archaic beliefs, choosing to ignore the urges of her blood in favour of the whispers of her heart.
Her dress is white, pure and unstained by time and shadow, illuminated by the fires that burn both without and within.
The room is silent once more. They stare at her. They wish to hate her whilst all they truly feel is envy. She has escaped her blood-forged shackles and that is something that they lack the bravery to do.
She does not despise them.
Instead she pities them, for they will never know love and friendship.
Her name breezes across half-a-hundred lips and she sighs at their reverence.
"Andromeda Black."
(*)(*)(*)
Her blonde hair is sleek against her pale skin as she enters, eyes glittering in the light and yet burning with an unexplainable darkness. Neither entity seems to hold dominion over her; instead they coalesce across her simpering form, a misty aura that is neither black nor white.
She is salvation, the epitome of love and loyalty. Her sisters may be the devil and the angel, but she is neither, choosing no path but her own.
She's a star that is easily missed, and perhaps she is not a star at all. She is a flower, a simpering beauty that drips venom and honey in equal measure.
Innocence is what shields her from the world, her youth protecting her from either side of the coming war. Soon though, she knows that a choice will have to be made.
She will always choose family.
Black was her colour, as was white, both shades melding as one across her seraphic silhouette. She walks in quiet elegance, forging a heart of gold to match her spine of steel. There is no price too high for her to pay when the ones she loves are in danger – she wonders if this will one day be to her detriment.
Grey is her colour of choice, the cloudy dress seeming to move as she did, spirals of smoky shades playing across the fabric. Instantly, she can feel the room grow jealous, for as always, she has outdone them all. The silk and taffeta flows across her unblemished skin and draws the eyes of all those who glance her way, causing their gazes to linger rather than fall away as was proper.
She loathes the games they play, but she cannot leave because she is skilled at outplaying them. Her mind is a razor, sharp and precise, whilst her heart exudes love.
They whisper her name and she does not care to grace them with a smile – they are beneath her, too devoted to their power to see the values of home and hearth. Callousness becomes them, though it does not hold a place within her.
"Narcissa Black."
(*)(*)(*)
The brothers are the last to arrive, but their entrance is a cause for uproar and not silence.
The rebel walks in, clad in crimson and gold, a garish choice of colours that upsets their delicate sensibilities. He does not care. He has never cared.
He has the heart of a lion.
Beside him, lopes the youngest, the most innocent, still more boy than man. His dress robes are a stark contrast to those of his brother's slacks, button-down shirt and tie. He has chosen green and silver, a fitting depiction of where his loyalties lie.
He has the heart of a serpent.
They devour the energies of the room – one seeking to defy and the other to conform, neither succeeding as they stood for each other. The youngest frames himself in gossamer light, an aura hidden from all those who try to discern his motives. The eldest cloaks himself in dancing shadows, choosing to let the world know that he has already chosen a side.
Theirs were the stars that were bright whilst dim, a duo of conflicting desires that threatened to tear them both apart at the seams.
Redemption.
Rebellion.
Each stands for one whilst fighting for the other.
The throng stares at them, a bustle of sounds threatening to engulf the hall in noise.
Their names are whispered, and one cares whilst the other does not.
"Sirius and Regulus Black."
(*)(*)(*)
They are monsters.
They are gods.
They are Blacks.