The luxurious and lavish lifestyle of Beauxbatons could be easily understood and gawked at simply from how they treated their carriages, even the winged horses, who always smelled suspiciously of some expensive shampoo and Salt Malt Whiskey. And for one of the Abraxans to be taken out? Either their companion was dressed to the nines, or they became a member of Wild Beings for a day, alongside none other than Naila Ferrari.

The night had started to blanket the day as the blonde traversed the sky of Hogsmeade for a nice place to sooth her hunger, and, with her cloak guarding her form-fitted black dress against any stray tan-colored hairs, Naila was out to be impressed. And so when her blue gaze caught sight the dim and cozy light of a restaurant pouring out onto a balcony with tables dressed in decorated frocks and surrounded in comfy chairs, Naila decided she found her meal for the day.

Rather than park the Abraxan somewhere acceptable, Naila decided to let the creature gently swoop down into an open and empty area of the porch, startling a few of the diners before folding its wings to the side. Of course nothing was out of place from the sudden entrance, possibly a stray bread crumb or twine of hair. Style and manners, Naila was a Beauxbatons alumni through and through, and outdid any and all ridiculous rumors and tales that England had woven about her for the past few months.

As Naila ran a hand through her hair and began to undo her cloak, she saw a rather gorgeous piece of man sitting at a table, alone. That was unacceptable.

The blonde swung one of her tan boots over the Abraxan and undid her cloak, as she had it trod up to the man's table. She braced her hands on the horse as it lowered itself to the ground, and she slid from the Abraxan's back onto the railing of the balcony--a boot's length away from the wizard in question.

She smiled, crossing her legs as she finished removing her coat, "Are you waiting for someone, love? Or shall I offer you some company?" The added height of the railing gave her a nice view of the man, where his clothes hugged his muscles, and the rugged chin, "Having dinner alone at a restaurant like this--someone will think you're single," she purred in a mischievous whisper, a hushed version of a tone she toted on-stage a few nights ago.

Taras slowly swirled the deep red wine in his glass. He had had a rather uneventful couple of months. England was positively dull. Even his time in prison had been more stimulating. Between baiting guards, finding cracks in his cell, figuring out various patterns in movements... at least his mind had been alive. Oh well, at least he now had proper clothes. Why on Earth would he want to be back in prison?  Seven years had been long enough.

He took a sip. It was expensive enough, but it lacked the strength that his favoured liquors possessed. But those were for other times. No, tonight he was in a rather luxurious mood, more cat than hyena. That would come later when he visited his nephew. At least Maximus had had the sense to betroth Fyetka when he was still young. He had tried to wait to save his daughter the pain of being tied down so young, but it had backfired. Instead, she had been fraternizing with poor, dirty Halfbloods. He had done his research. The one that had graduated was easy enough to take out of the picture. The Professor had taken a little more, but the other man had obviously scorned the Russian more than taken him seriously. Not a problem, he'd figure something out. Quigley had been enough to take care of the other child and a well placed note on a mahogany piano was enough to scare his Princess away from the child. Too many half-bloods, not enough time.

He made a mental note to speak with Melanthe about her brother. They needed to figure out the proper arrangements.
Taras was suddenly distracted as an Abraxan landed gracefully on the deck of the restaurant. An eyebrow raised. Fine creature, he mused, although not quite as fine as the woman mounted on it. The blood in his veins began to hum subtly.

Veela

The veela blood in his own veins leaped at the thought. In England, veelas were hard to come by, unlike when he had traded on the Continent and in Russia. There, they were in abundance, delectable abundance. He knew from the pulse that she was not full, no, he had been around his mother and grandmother enough to know the feel of a full (or nearly full blooded) veela. This one had less signature, but it was certainly stronger than his. Of course, no one except Nika knew that his Magical Charm had stopped functioning when he had turned 21. He let most believe what they must.

"Are you waiting for someone, love? Or shall I offer you some company? Having dinner alone at a restaurant like this--someone will think you're single,"  

His eyes had been following the woman, he now recognized her as the famous Wild Beings Singer, since her decent from the Abraxan, so her words did not startle him at all. He simply blinked slowly. "Good evening to you as well, Miss Ferrari. Have a seat if you wish." His hand swept over the empty table. "As you can see, you may have to jostle for a position among my many admirers." The Russian's accent was strong and defined. Whenever he was in Hogsmeade, he was representing Durmstrang, so it was no use trying to pass off as another nationality.

Naila's lips curved into a satisfied smile as she removed her cream cloak and tossed it onto the back of the chair that sat opposite the man. She slid her leg off of her other one, which then gently swung over the other one that pulled her into a half-twirl as she slid off the balcony as her voice weighed with amusement, "Oh I don't jostle." She took a few steps as she let her hand trail behind her on the balcony's railing as she moved to her seat, when she finally lifted it to flip her golden locks from her face, "I prosper."

The witch planted herself down in the chair and leaned back against her discarded cloak, "Now..." she crossed an arm over her chest as she raised a slim finger to tap against her lips,"I don't have the pleasure of knowing your name, other than that it must be... Russian by nature," she quirked her eyebrows before  her lips pressed into a soft and mischievous smile,  "Mmnn, and I want to say benefactor or parent."