She stood, almost invisible, behind Tom as he invoked his callers. She called him a lot of things, when he wasn't listening, most of them insulting, but she could never deny his ingenuity. Suddenly a roar of complete frustration assaulted her mind, and it took a large portion of her self control not to move in response to the shock.
Just do it!!! She screamed in her mind, begging the onslaught to stop.
It did.
Hundreds of black robed, silver masked death eaters circled her and Tom at that moment. Some blankly gawked at her, and she vaguely wondered what kind of impression she made, a short woman with an enormous battle sword, dressed all in black and coated in blood. She smirked lightly at the thought. Who gave a fuck? Should she?
She remained silent as Tom- Voldemort- began their revel in her name.
Severus stood, quietly, blood trickling down his left hand where he had tried to slice the dark mark away. He had made up his mind, he wasn't going, he wasn't going to be among the loyal minions of an insane mortal any longer. He was above that.
Yet something, some force he did not fully comprehend, Fate, if you will, had made him dawn the robes and go, one more time.
And there she was, right back behind his "master." Her eyes burned with the same venomous delight as they had long ago, though the lines on her face were far more pronounced, her arms scarred in strange traces and burns, TriBlade hanging lightly at her side, her left hand holding the sheath in an iron grip. Her right hung loosely at her side. She smiled in some secret bemusement, and he felt his knees go weak.
So yes, she did still have that effect on him.
Before he could say or signal anything, Lord Voldemort began his opening speech for the night's Revel. He found himself suddenly interrupted by Ranistaka walking away from her position. He did not know what to do, consequently, he did nothing. The ground where she stepped was scorched and pitted black, and smoke rose from the grass, as she walked, right toward Severus. He gulped. This wasn't the place for this. He refused to have her see him like this!
But she stopped, staring dead in the eyes of Lucius Malfoy. She gripped the iron mask and slung it off his face, cracking the metal with the force of the throw.
"Do you have a problem?" the voice was clipped, dripping with rage, and sarcasm, and challenge.
"No ma'am," Lucius, to his credit, did not back down. But he certainly couldn't muster up the courage to try to charm her.
"Good," she replied. "But I'm inclined to disagree with you."
With that statement, she grabbed him by the collar and slung him over her head, and he crashed, face first, into the base of the podium.
"If anyone else wants to stare at my breasts for extended periods of time feel free- you just have to present your invitation at the door. Understood?" she smirked.
That's my girl, and under the mask, Severus grinned madly.