harrowgate: by ridsey (violet)
(Continued from this thread.)

The door to the flat unlocked and opened without a touch like all the rest, opening onto a small vestibule that broadened into the living area. Felix's library, a dining area, and a kitchen that looked too pristine to be often used were just visible from the front door. Clearly the residents here preferred modern and comfortable to plush and ostentatious, but everything in the flat was doubtless expensive.

"As is anyone's life, I presume," Felix answered Fin as they came inside. Then he called, sounding a little strained, "Shannon? Are you home? I've got Fin with me."

It was early for Felix to have returned from work, though much later than when he and Finlay had stumbled through the portal that day. He sounded tired, like he'd been shouting, and seemed not fully aware that there were grass stains on his trousers and a few tiny leaves still clinging to his shirt and hair.
harrowgate: (Default)
On the evening of the shortest day of the year, Felix arrived at Saturnalia just as he'd promised Robin he would. He had put all thoughts of what he ought or ought not do out of his mind, and decided to deal with the consequences later. After all, for him, and for Cabalines, the solstice was the more important of the upcoming plethora of holidays, but to everyone else, it was just a Wednesday. Felix could go out on Wednesday if he so chose.

He met Robin at the club, as agreed upon, somewhat early in the evening. Felix had dressed simply, for him, in very form-fitting (and very expensive) charcoal gray jeans and a dark purple buttoned shirt that fit him perfectly. No extra accessories tonight -- he wanted to be easy to unwrap.

"And where are we going?" Felix inquired, once Robin decided to appear.


Aug. 30th, 2016 07:53 pm
harrowgate: (laying)
After supper that evening, a perfectly innocuous and unremarkable Tuesday, Felix had slipped away when Shannon's back was turned. Nothing in his conversation that night had even hinted at the surprise he intended for later. If Shannon didn't enjoy it as much as Felix suspected he would, he wanted Shannon to be able to say 'no' easily.

Though he doubted that his lover would.

A faint, warm candlelight spilled out the half-open bedroom door onto the hall floor, leaving a hint as to where Felix had disappeared. Within, Felix stretched out on the bed, quite naked, his long red curls spilling over one shoulder as he rested on his side. A very few candles were lit around the room, but perhaps more interesting were the unlit tapers on the bed with him, deeply colored in hues he knew Shannon liked: deep blue, violet, gold, and ivory. In one hand, he toyed with something silvery-metallic in a sort of egg shape, turning it between his hands as he waited for Shannon to find him.


Jan. 25th, 2016 01:51 pm
harrowgate: (giggle)
Felix came home rather later than expected, even for a night when he and Shannon had separate plans. He doubted very much that he could escape the fate of meeting a very annoyed Teverius waiting expectantly for him at the apartment, even if he was hale and whole.

He wasn't. His mouth had mostly stopped bleeding, at last, but his handkerchief looked like a horror film prop, and a steady blue-purple-green blotch was forming at the left corner of his mouth. It was starting to hurt through the numbing effect of the drinks he'd had. Felix had strolled through the building with blood on his shirt and a decidedly ugly injury to his face, and if his neighbors and the staff could deal with it, then he was certain Shannon could do, as well.

He hoped.

Felix dabbed at the corner of his lips once more with the handkerchief as he unlocked the front door and stepped inside. "Shannon?" he called, a bit lopsidedly, but hopeful. "Are you home?"

for Alcuin

Jan. 22nd, 2016 08:07 pm
harrowgate: by unopened (sparkle)
Meet me for a drink after work, darling?

The text pinged Alcuin's phone mid-afternoon that Friday, in just enough time to be considerate of any other plans the young man might have, accompanied by a GPS link indicating a trendy martini bar not too far from the University Felix knew Alcuin attended. Felix was going there regardless, but having Alcuin to talk with and gaze at would greatly enhance his happy hour.

He was still dressed from work when he arrived at the bar -- The Mirador Agency did not observe casual Fridays -- in his adored mixed-media jacket and pinstripe trousers. Felix quickly secured a high-top table with two spindly modern chairs, dropped his satchel in one, and settled himself in the other to see if Alcuin would take him up on his invitation.


Nov. 10th, 2015 01:10 pm
harrowgate: by unopened (sparkle)
The dark-haired, dark-eyed vampire had no difficulty at all seducing the wizard that night. Felix had made it easy, fulfilling every expectation that more physically powerful men had about someone like him. They presumed him physically weak, emotionally susceptible to flattering attention, and primarily concerned with physical beauty. What was more, this tempting stranger had seen his picture on the gossip blogs, and clearly expected him to be sexually available to anyone who asked.

Playing to expectations meant Felix had to put forth very little effort for a pretty fellow he never intended to see again. He barely had to play at all, speaking of nothing consequential, smiling when required, and stroking the stranger's ego whenever possible. He didn't even have to suggest a nearby hotel in the entertainment district, close enough to Felix's apartment that he could still make it home after this tryst. This man seemed nearly capable of reading his mind.

They didn't make it to the hotel. They barely made it a block from the lounge where Felix had met him. Faster than Felix could react, faster than he could even see, he was snatched from the sidewalk and plunged into the shadows between two buildings. His back was shoved up against a brick wall and the stranger's unnatural strength kept him pinned. But when the man's black eyes held his and his low, smoky voice began murmuring hypnotic suggestions, Felix finally understood he'd stumbled across someone he couldn't control.

A wizard's mind is stronger than most, and Felix's mind, shaped by the tutelage of a sorcerer more monster than man, was particularly well-fortified. He fought against the mental suggestion that he sleep, forget, surrender to pleasure... but this was not magic seeping into his mind, and he had no resources but brute mental strength to resist it.

Electricity crackled, weakly, between Felix's fingers, his hands pinned to the wall. Even his magic was sluggish to respond under the telepathic assault.


Nov. 1st, 2015 12:44 pm
harrowgate: by honeybread (vulnerable)
Felix had been missing since leaving work on the evening of October 31. His phone went to voice mail, texts went unanswered, and he did not return home to the flat. While it was not entirely unusual for Felix to absent himself from all contact for awhile (typically while buried in the Mirador's Archive reading something he couldn't put down), this time turned out to be markedly different.

Early in the morning on November the first, the front door of Felix and Shannon's flat rattled once, then burst open with a muffled crack. Felix spilled through the door and slammed it shut, leaving a faint trail of smoke in his wake. The smoke was spilling from the mangled, melted and ruined front door knob, which Felix had all but exploded with a burst of magic when the locked door had first presented itself in his own personal nightmare.

Panting, ragged, filthy, Felix stared at the tidy and welcoming entry of his own flat, wide-eyed. Somewhere he had lost his shoes, his jacket, and any decorative accoutrement, and stood barefoot dressed in the ruins of his shirt and trousers which he'd worn to work the previous day. He shivered, and clung to the door, trembling and half-disbelieving that he truly was home.

"Sh... Shannon?" he croaked, barely above a whisper

for Alcuin

Sep. 12th, 2015 09:44 am
harrowgate: (foxy)
Felix arrived perhaps slightly less-than-promptly at Alcuin's flat for their scheduled date to have dinner and peruse Alcuin's library. He had told Shannon simply that he was going out that evening, and had suggested one of Shannon's other friends -- with whom Felix did not get along well -- phone him for amusement that same night. That left Felix quite free to enjoy this time alone with his sweet friend.

He dressed very casually, but even his denim jeans were washed in a dark sand color and imprinted with faint swirling designs, and his shirt with the sleeves rolled up was beautifully patterned in emerald and rust. Felix simply did not do casual very well.

Ready with a smile when Alcuin answered his knock, Felix proffered a bottle of wine he'd procured on the recommendation of a sommelier who supplied Cabal soirees. "Good evening, darling. I know I'm late; you'll forgive me, won't you?"
harrowgate: (wizard)
Elsewhere in the city this morning, a man had been found most gruesomely murdered. Among the photos and videos scattered around the macabre scene, a lifetime's collection of exploitation and horror, were photos of a red-haired boy around eleven or twelve. Thin, pale, almost heart-breakingly pretty even in sickening postures and positions, he could have been anyone among the dozens of anonymous children depicted.

Anyone, if the close-up photos of him gagged and frightened had not clearly shown one unusual amber eye, and one dead-pale blue eye.

Felix Harrowgate, of course, had no idea that Emmett Whitfordshire had been murdered and found in a coffin decorated in part by photographs of himself as a young boy. It was a perfectly normal day for him, arriving at the office which served as the public face of the Mirador Consulting Group. Neither the general public nor the group's exclusive clientele were ever allowed past the facade of reception and glass-walled conference areas into the workrooms beyond, so it was not terribly unusual to be summoned to the front of the office as part of one's day.

When told he had a visitor at reception, Felix emerged within just a few minutes, impeccably-dressed as always in pin-stripe trousers and waistcoat over a wine-red shirt. His sleeves were partly rolled up; he'd just come from crafting a new spell. The receptionist -- one of the newer apprentices, a recent member of one of Felix's own classes on spell grounding -- escorted him down to the lobby. Felix recognized Agent Hotchner immediately, and hesitated, sending the apprentice away with a small shooing motion.


Apr. 30th, 2015 04:10 pm
harrowgate: (Default)
Now that they were living apart, it seemed to Felix that he did much more with Shannon than he ever had while living together. About once a week, sometimes more frequently, one would suggest an outing to the other, and they would try some new restaurant, take in a performance, or discover some place new together. It was this newness that kept Felix curious and interested, wondering at what Shannon might try next. The time they spent living together seemed strangely quaint and prosaic now, a distant miasma of the same few wine bars, restaurants, and parties. Now, they ignored most of the friends they had made as a couple, and spent time only on one another.

Felix preferred this immensely. Alone with Shannon, he caught glimpses of that strange, indefinable thing he had been seeking ever since the two of them had agreed to try honesty in their relationship. Each tempting taste kept him coming back for more.

They toured the Royal Academy of Arts today, keeping mostly to the classic collections as was the preference of both, staying out of the way of school groups and tours. Felix lingered before a painting of Thor battling the Midgard Serpent, a glance at the subtle explanation plate nearby recalling the story to mind. "Very different from the modern interpretation of the god of thunder, isn't he," Felix mused while studying the painting.

for Shannon

Mar. 9th, 2015 08:18 pm
harrowgate: (blue)
Six weeks had passed since Felix had last sought Shannon's contact entry in his phone. Six weeks since he'd walked out of their apartment, leaving behind almost everything he owned. Six weeks since the truth of his past had torn apart the facade of his present.

Six weeks since he'd seen or spoken to Shannon at all.

I'm on my way to collect my things. I will be there in 15 minutes.

His text to Shannon was brief and perfunctory, and painfully exact. Precisely fifteen minutes after he had tapped the send button, Felix was at the door of the apartment he had shared with Shannon for such an excruciatingly short time. His keys were halfway out of his pocket before he realized that Shannon might have changed the locks. He stopped, hesitated, almost turned around and left.

Then he knocked, three sharp raps on the door.


Feb. 2nd, 2015 10:07 pm
harrowgate: (foxy)
When Felix had arranged a meeting with Miss Ives -- Vanessa -- he had no inkling that his life would have turned so thoroughly upside-down. Nearly everything he owned remained (as far as he knew) back at the apartment he had shared with Shannon. He was alone, subsisting on room service and Cabal-issued credit cards, in a hotel barely two blocks from Vanessa's residence at the Midland Grand. When his phone had reminded him of the appointment, he'd stared stupidly at it for five full minutes before deciding to dress and attend. What else was he going to do, after all?

At the appointed time, Felix was at her door, dressed as impeccably as ever in pressed trousers, shirt and waistcoat, only slightly more casually than he dressed for work or social events. Felix did nothing by halves -- not even private appointments with ladies he thought he might call friend.
harrowgate: by honeybread (vulnerable)
Trouble in Paradise. Come get what you were after.

The text arrived on Robin Goodfellow's phone from Felix's number, attached to a room number and the address of the Hotel Pullman, remarkably late on an otherwise unremarkable weeknight. Felix gave no further explanation, assuming, after a fair quantity of bourbon, that the invitation would stand on its own.

Most of the bottle he'd demanded from room service had disappeared by the time he heard the knock. Felix flicked his fingers at the door, disengaging the lock with the simplest touch of magic so that the door swung naturally open. He lounged on the terribly modern cream chaise near the sleek walnut desk, and poured a generous glass of his bourbon for his guest without looking up.

He had shed his jacket and his shoes -- the same clothes he'd left the apartment in, of course -- and stretched out lazily in trousers, waistcoat, shirt and tie. The tie was loosened somewhat, the shirt unbuttoned at his throat, and with his bottle in hand, Felix appeared to belong more appropriately to the scene of an opium den out of Wilde's most lustful imagination, surrounded by debauched and glaze-eyed libertines, than the clean straight lines and lush finishes of a modern luxury hotel.

Expectantly, he looked up at the opening of the door.


Nov. 18th, 2014 10:39 pm
harrowgate: (you bore me)
I have questions for you. Your place or mine?

A perfunctory text message had succeeded in securing Robin Goodfellow's attention for that evening, as Felix had crafted it to do. As the response had included a rather posh address, it seemed Felix had succeeded doubly: he'd have Robin's experience to draw upon, and Shannon would be none the wiser.

He'd changed clothes after work and arrived at the given address in a dark, subtly patterned shirt beneath a cashmere sweater that fit his slim frame with aching perfection, beneath a warm winter coat against the London night air. The building's security -- cleverly disguised as reception in smart business attire -- assured him that he was expected, and sent him up to the correct floor. As it turned out, Felix hardly needed to look further. There was only one door beyond the elevator. Rather than let himself be impressed for too long, Felix donned an expectant expression, and knocked.

for Robin

Sep. 17th, 2014 09:31 pm
harrowgate: (foxy)
When Felix was caught immobile in his research and his work, unable to progress, the words of magic and history and philosophy tangled up hopelessly, meaninglessly, before his eyes and in his mind. His usual refuge, the Cabaline libraries, became quickly useless to him, only further sinking his thoughts in the quagmire of words. The books, the scrolls, and the disapproval of his colleagues did nothing to open his mind, so Felix escaped, and went to a place where words did not reign.

The Museum was already a frequent haunt, but today he turned in a different direction than the archives, and stalked in among the paintings and sculptures from bygone days. Modern art meant nothing to him. Art without historical context, without story, without the echo of years impacted by its existence, carried no weight. Felix kept to the classics.

His violet velvet trousers and subtly patterned shirt were muted and bound together by a rust-colored waistcoat and lightweight silk scarf in warm tones, highlighted by touches of purpose. He did not dress, nor carry himself, like a man who liked to be ignored, but in the middle of a weekday, the Gallery was quiet. There were few to stare.

However, when Felix entered an unfamiliar room, he was the one who stopped to stare. Somehow, impossibly, he had seen... he had met... the green-eyed man spread beautifully in a field of flowers, framed in a painting at least five hundred years old.


harrowgate: (Default)
Felix Harrowgate

May 2017

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