Ó Móráin Estate

Liadán was very concerned with appearances. It was very important, no matter the given situation, that a person always look their best for whomever they are entertaining or plan to meet- even if it happens to be an accidental meeting. She had not expected, however, to be roused at dawn on her scheduled day off for the week. She had been sleeping soundly when she heard the knocking on her bedroom door. Slowly she pulled herself to a sitting position, pushing hair from her face. "Enter," she barked. Really, Liadán was not in the mood to be bothered. Libby or Felda better have a good reason for interrupting her beauty sleep!

The house elf entered, bowing her head, and Liadán could not quite figure out which one it was. "I am sorry to bother mistress, but there is a man at the door." The elf continued on, obviously terrified of whoever was at the door and equally terrified of her mistress' reaction to being roused. Liadán listened to the creature babble for a few moments before climbing out of her bed and ordering that the elf fetch her house robe.

She returned, and Liadán pulled the brown silk over her night gown and cinched it shut at the waist. One quick glance in the mirror assured that her hair did not look very out of place. She did not have the time to twist it up as she would have liked, considering the nature of the disturbance seemed to be somewhat urgent.

As she followed the elf (she had discovered it was Felda by this point), Liadán took a few deep breaths. She needed to have perfect composure before entering the sitting room where the elves had finally deposited the man in question. Liadán's mind was not yet working fast enough to make any connections as to who, exactly, would be at her house so early in the morning. Whoever it was, though, would be made aware of her displeasure at having been disturbed. They must know her, or they could not find her home. If it was that meddling investigator from last month, she would hex him without much thought. "Felda!" she snapped at the thought, "my wand. My good wand. Bring it to me, now." The elf sprinted away, returning moments later with the heirloom wand she treasured so dearly. Liadán tucked it away in her robe before opening the door to the sitting room to greet her very unwelcome guest.

Crunch, crunch. "Mierda!" A long growl of Spanish cursing exited the mouth of one Ambrosio Dimas. It was early in the morning, and the Irish woods were misty, the trees covered in moss and dew. Ambrosio's eyes weren't fully working at the moment, as he'd just completed his transition back into human. He was in pain, of course, so he was stumbling everywhere - into trees, onto sharp broken branches. Finally, he set himself against a tree and waited for his eyes to settle. About ten minutes later, he opened them up, and he could see naturally again. He looked at himself, as some parts of him were mud stained, some grass stained, and as he licked his lips, he could tell he was blood stained as well.

He was naked, as well, as that generally happened when changing back, and no clothes were in sight. Scanning the area, he was trying to figure out his location, until finally, he smelled the air and perked his ears. Water was nearby; he could smell it and he could hear small currents smashing a shore. That could only mean a certain familiar's estate was nearby. With one more sniff, he took off sprinting to the estate. When the large hedge came into view, he smiled slightly, and then started climbing and fell down over the edge. With a small oomf, he got back up and made his way to the door. He knocked on it twice and waited, hoping his cousin would make an appearance.

As it was early in the morning, he doubted she'd be up and about. And when the door opened to the sight of a small, gangly creature, he was positive in his assessment. "Your mistress's company." He growled at the elf in a low Spanish accent. "I request it." He could tell the elf was heavily frightened, not only by his tone of speech, but by his naked body. It led him to a sitting room before taking off, where he sat on the comfiest looking sofa. Another elf appeared, carrying a long, dark fabric which it placed on top of him.

He grabbed it, snarled at the elf, which also scurried away, and wrapped himself in it. As he curled into it, the door opened and his cousin appeared, obviously discontent that someone had woken her slumber. He turned his gaze toward her, showing he'd just come back from his painful, lycanthrope excursion. He was dirty, bloody, and on her furniture, so he hoped she wasn't too angry at him. "Mi hermosa, I apologize for showing up without notice."

Liadán opened the door as she watched her cousin stand up to wrap himself into the blanket he had been given, and bushed furiously at the sight of his unclothed body. She had seen very few men without their clothes on in her lifetime, and each time it had not been of her own free will. Liadán shielded her eyes with a dainty hand, giving him ample time to get wrapped up and resettled onto the couch in the room. "Felda," she said, the bitterness having left her voice entirely, "please fetch some coffee and breakfast for myself and my guest. Something very hearty," she added before the elf disappeared, obviously relieved at the fact her mistress was not angry.

The young woman had difficulty mustering a welcoming smile (not that her cousin was unwelcome in her home, it was just unexpected and could prove to be inconvenient depending on what antics he had gotten up to during his change the night before) but finally she managed. "I have lost an entire hour or two of my beauty sleep," was the way that Liadán decided to respond to his apology. "It is not easy for a woman of my advanced years to keep such a youthful appearance."

She took a few more moments to examine him before producing her wand from her robe and setting a fire in the fireplace. "You must forgive my staring, Ambrosio. I have never seen you in such a state of disarray. It is a shocking contrast to the young man I am accustomed to encountering." She muttered something, and with another flick of her wand a small trunk came bobbing into the room a few moments later.

Setting it on the floor, Liadán knelt to open it, extracting a few things that had once belonged to her father. "Please do not be offended, but I would appreciate it if you could find something to wear other than a blanket." Standing back up, Liadán turned her back on him so that he could dress in peace. The clothing might be somewhat outdated, but her father had a very expensive eye for fabrics. It seemed to be a family trait, she thought, as she rubbed the expensive silk of her own robe between her thumb and forefinger. Hopefully he would also opt to dress himself fully. Having a man in various levels of undress in her home offended her morals.

"What are you doing in Ireland?" she finally asked, feeling awkward as she stood there silent, back turned. Oh the level of impropriety of this meeting! Her mother and father would have skinned the young man rather than show him hospitality. She was doing them a grave injustice, Liadán was sure of it. But Ambrosio was family, and he had to be in need if he would show up so unannounced. No one just waltzed into this home unless they needed to. Not with the nasty reputation of the Ó Móráin family. (The very one she was trying to turn around, ironically enough.)

Liadán was obviously upset by his appearance, but at the same time she seem relieved that it was him rather than someone else. "I apologize again for my appearance. As you can see…" He looked himself over, then continued, "Well, I'm obviously returning from a very hairy night." As he said the last bit, he curled his fingers around the tuft of hair on his chest. Looking down, he couldn't bring himself to look his lovely cousin in the eye. She wasn't accustomed to nude men in her home, even if they were family or as gorgeous as he was. As she settled herself, she brought out a box of clothes for him to rummage through.

He looked at the box, and gave her an inquisitive look. "Darling, do you expect me to just throw some clothes on in this state of filth? I would like a shower, you know…" He sighed, and as she turned her back, growled a tiny bit before grabbing some nice pieces of fifties themed attire. Throwing the blanket over the sofa, he stood naked in her sitting room, she only a few feet away, however her back turned. Picking up the white button up and khaki slacks he'd selected, he threw it on and settled back down. "You can turn around now. I didn't feel like putting on too much."

Taking some tea from the tray the house elf brought, he took a large gulp and wiped his mouth with his arm. Yes, he was a male, and yes, he was an animal. It was only natural. "As for why I'm here, well, I'd ask my previous persona." He laughed, revealing stained, yet pearly teeth. His canines were sharp, as they always were, and it seemed to scare the house elf yet again. "But the Irish woods seem best for my hunting, as I don't want the Ministry to learn of my existence. France already has it out for me, so I figure the famous ciervos of Ireland would be best for my dinner."

"I can hardly be blamed for you current state of cleanliness, or rather, the lack thereof," was her curt response before flicking the wand in his direction. It was not very often that someone on the receiving end of her wand (this one in particular) wasn't getting hexed or cursed, and Liadán wouldn't blame him if he got angry about her throwing the spell at him unannounced. It did, however, do the trick, and Ambrosio was clean and looked much more like himself. Even the odd attire seemed to fit him. "There, now you look much more like civil company. Although, I highly doubt that anyone in society would find it civil for you to visit while I'm still in my dressing gown."

Liadán made no move to disappear upstairs to get properly dressed, though. Instead she readjusted the robe to make sure nothing was exposed as she made herself more comfortable with the fresh cup that was given to her by the house elf. "You should have thrown the blanket in the floor," she told him. "It will have to be washed. The furniture will also have to be cleaned. Do you know how old this particular set is? I certainly hope you haven't ruined it. It is irreplaceable. It has been in this estate for generations- or so my father used to tell me." Her father was never very fond of Ambrosio, so she hoped he was not offended by her mentioning him again. Though he was never outwardly rude to him (his wife would have his head) he never went out of his way to be courteous, either.

"If you have harmed any of the animals on my property, dearest cousin, then I will see to it that you reimburse me. Business is business after all, and if you strayed so close to here, perhaps your subconscious was steering you toward a penned up snack."

"And I should certainly hope they do not learn of your existence. It has been very difficult to convince them that I am following the law around here. Regular inspections and constant disbelief from every nosey little brat they send out. Sometimes I miss the alarms Father had in place, most would have been burnt to a crisp. Sending to me these people of lesser status, to question the way that I live my life, and I've no choice but to be courteous. My mother and father both would be extremely disappointed at the riff raff I have allowed through those doors due to the circumstances they left me in. Once a mudblood official was in here, tinkering with priceless antiques out of curiosity. It was all I could do, refraining from cursing him into oblivion!"

She wagged her finger at him in a mocking way, though every word she spoke was truth. "If you bring the hounds back down on me, Ambrosio, I will not hesitate to remove your head from your body, boil it, and display it as a tribal piece of art. Shrinking heads is not so complicated, you know."

With her wand pointed at him, he thought she was about to curse him, and he was unarmed. His wand was back at his apartment, where he left it before taking off. It wouldn't surprise him that Liadán would curse an unarmed man; he definitely wouldn't put it past her. But with a flick, he was spotless clean. His hair had been slicked back in a perfect James Dean hairstyle, only better, and his skin was clean and smooth. He rubbed his arms and face, smiled, and then got more comfortable in the sofa he was in. As Liadán continued to complain, he just scoffed at her. "Oh please, it's not like that little charm you did on me couldn't clean the sofa."

As she continued to rant, as she normally did, Ambrosio started to doze off. "Oh, what?" He said, snapping back to reality. He gave her a deviant smile. "Honey, don't act like you don't love me. If it weren't for the term 'cousins,' I bet you'd have jumped my bones ages ago." He laughed at her, as she was always so uptight in nature. Naturally, he concurred, it was because of her raising. Liadán's father was such an arsehole in general, and her mother wasn't far off the bitch status. He was surprised Liadán wasn't as terrible as they were, but then again, she was a purist and they always had some sort of grudge to hold.

Propping his feet up on one side of the sofa and his head on the other, Ambrosio got as comfortable as he could imagine. "So, my darling, do you have a cigarette I could bum? Making that transformation is such a pain the arse, the only thing that removes the edge is my little smoke sticks." He sighed and conceded to her threats. "I swear, any of the animals harmed were far off your property, I mean, I woke up at least three miles from here in the woods, so none of the lot could be yours." He was moving his hands back and forth as he spoke. "And I highly doubt Ministry officials will question you on the rabid slaughter of multiple deer. There are so many around here, they won't even notice."

She frowned darkly at his sexual insinuation. Liadán was not a hormonal person, and never had been. In Hogwarts she had never dated, and now out in society she rarely had any use for a man apart to use him as an accessory to make others in her social circle jealous. While it was true that Ambrosio was extremely handsome, it did not make up for his other, less redeeming qualities. "That is not a proper way to repay my hospitality, Mr. Dimas." The shift to the use of his surname was not something she had calculated. It was a habit that Liadán fell into when she was displeased with someone that she considered herself fond of. "Such vulgarity in the presence of a lady is not tolerated well. Besides, cousins or not I do not participate in such extra curricular activities. I have a reputation to uphold- my own, and that of the name I carry. I will do no dishonor to either."

She thought that perhaps she should have cursed him. Maybe the uncharacteristic level of kindness had led him to believe that he was allowed to treat her in such a way. Naturally the disruption to her sleep had caused such a gap in thought processes.

"There are no cigarettes in my home," Liadán told him flatly. "They smell bad, are a disgusting habit, and stain fabrics and walls. Priceless antiquity cannot be preserved with someone polluting the air with such stench." She did hate smoking. Liadán tended to think of it as a purely muggle thing, and as such it was dirty. Wizards and witches had much better ways to take the edge off. "Although, if you are so terribly nervous, I am certain there is a potion somewhere that might be more effective."

"Although, if you do not take your feet off of my furniture, you might need a stronger potion than that to deal with your pains. Come now, Ambrosio, I know you have better manners than this. Are you not too old to tease me in such a way?" It was more of a gentle reminder than a genuine question. Liadán did not take well to being teased, no matter what form it was in. (Perhaps this was why flirtation seemed to elude her, and she seemed incapable of expressing any interest in someone? It seemed flirting was nothing more than teasing one another.)

Ambrosio scoffed at his cousin, rolling his eyes whenever she was looking and baring his teeth at her when she was. "Fine, dearest, just give me a teacup and a saucer and I'll hold out my pinky and put on a British accent." He tried mimicking the accent as he said it, but it only came out even more Spanish sounding. But this just made him laugh. He was sure Liadán would give him an evil eye for this, but needless to say, he had a way about him.

As she pretty much disapproved of everything he did, he got up and leaned against the wall. "Fine, I'll stand over here like the good little wolf I am." At the mention of his status, one of the house elves yelped and ran across the room, hiding behind Liadán. His eyes followed her without his head moving, and his arms were crossed in a heavy manner. "And if you, little rodent, try to rat me out, I'll bite you ears off and hang them on my door as a trophy." He snarled.

He didn't hate house elves, but when they acted like they were comedy and tragedy in a medieval drama, he tended to get sick of them incredibly quick.

"Come now, cousin. Don't act so boorish. And really, as far as house elves go these are much better than most. Somewhere along the way they have picked up manners. It is difficult to find any like that." Getting up from her seat, she peeked behind the chair and spoke quietly to the trembling creature. It disappeared from the room afterward, and Liadán locked the door behind it. "There, no more interruptions. It is just you and I, dearest cousin. And you must forgive me for being so harsh. You forget the only visitors I regularly entertain in this part of the house are authorities who need to be reminded of their manners. It is like dropping a herd of buffalo in a china shop when they come around."

Liadán walked over to him, gently taking both of his hands in hers. It was an odd gesture coming from her, as anyone who knew her well would note. The woman rarely touched anybody voluntarily when it wasn't deemed necessary by a societal obligation. (Such as hugging an old friend or acquaintance, but even then it was rarely skin on skin.) "Let us sit by the fire, dearest cousin. You can tell me of all the things in your life I have missed out on since I have been locked away in this dreary prison."

She did not truly consider her home to be as such. Still, she recognized the fact that she had been nettling the nerves of a short tempered man. From her experiences, men in general could have nasty tempers, and rumor had it that Spanish men had them even worse. Now she was staring up into the eyes of a Spanish man with a bestial counterpart lurking within. His wolf probably multiplied that temper by ten fold. Now the important part was to make peace. Upsetting Ambrosio could lead to very bad things, she supposed, one of which could be upsetting her family. Liadán had no intentions of making enemies of her family in France or any others sprinkled across Europe.

Liadán gave his hands one gentle tug before releasing them and settling herself on the plush rug in front of the fire. She readjusted her robe around her, making sure nothing was exposed, then tilted up her child like face. At the moment she hoped to use her short stature and youthful appearance to her advantage. She looked very much the part of the innocent, pleading child as she beckoned him forward. "I promise, no more criticizing on my part."