Canon: Evan Rosier- killed by Aurors the year before Voldemort fell. He was caught shortly after Karkaroff. He preferred to fight rather than come quietly and was killed in the struggle.
Alan Wilkes- killed by Aurors the year before Voldemort fell.
Affectionately dubbed as Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum, these two could never be seperated. Portrayed by our dear Alysun, here exists one of the few damn good posts ever written about the comrades-in-arms. To honour their memory, chunks of Moody's nose will be bitten off on the day of their demise.
Post:
Two sharks glided their predatory way through the swarming mass of
Malfoys, twin, feral smirks plastered over their attractive features.
Alan was the taller of the two, though only by a few centimetres. He
was not as clean shaven as his partner, instead dabbling in the art
of designer stubble. It suited his square jaw and tanned skin, and
one could not help but feel that he knew it. His blue eyes sparkled
with misleading innocence, his shiny, brown hair dripping over them
like coppery, soft icicles. His hair seemed to be messy, it's length
concealing his ears and his eyebrows, though it was plain to any
observer that he liked this. A red rose peeped out of the chocolate
strands endearingly.
He was obviously a muscular man, and dressed in clothes that only
flattered his figure. Tight, black leather trousers adorned his legs,
clinging fondly to them. His feet was protected by genuine dragon
hide, his boots knee high with a kitten heel and sole of rose wood.
The wood ensured that he clonked if he walked on wooden floors and
clicked on tiles. His chest was partially exposed by his unbuttoned
shirt. The shirt was a metallic silver, glittering and glistening
under the torch light as though a spotlight had been placed on him.
He enjoyed the effect greatly. He had tucked the bottom of the shirt
into his pants so it billowed out at the bottom, just as his shirt
sleeves did over his fastened cuffs. A black travelling cloak was
casually slung over his shoulders, attached by a silver clasp at the
front alone.
His overall appearance slammed into the mind like a mental sledge
hammer, his aura oozing sex appeal to just about anything, med, women
and potted plants.
His partner's dress was no less subtle.
Evan was not as steadily built as Alan, lacking the muscles and
shoulder's broader than an ox's.
He was more petite, pointier features and overall more feminine in
appearance. This did not lessen the aura of 'Let me lay you now' that
they both exuded innately.
He had ash blonde hair that was considerably more groomed to look at
than his companions. Blackened gold curtains swung into his eyes
occasionally, making him toss his head to remove them. Sharp,
intelligent hazel eyes sparkled with humour and life as he gave a
passing Malfoy-relative the once over. She caught his look and
covered her face in a failed attempt of a coquettish gesture.
The pair smirked at the coquetter, Alan bit his lower lip, Evan ran
his pink tongue over his upper teeth, the combination of which made
the girl blush furiously.
They moved on.
Evan had dressed in the style of a respectable, aristocratic
gentleman, though did it in such a way that made it seem rather more
seedy than admirable.
Of course, they believed that seedy *was* admirable.
He carried an unnecessary cane, black and polished, which he
flourished with every opportunity. On his hands he wore white gloves,
similar to golfing gloves but, as he insisted, 'with more style than
that'.
His feet were clothed in ankle boots that bore large, shiny,
rectangular buckles. The heel on them was higher than Alan's so that
the height difference was cancelled out.
He had a white, silk cravat tied neatly around his pale throat, an
obsidian pin keeping it in order. A green, silk waistcoat was the
only thing covering his bare chest, no shirt present rendering his
arms bare, save the black travelling cloak he also wore. The
waistcoat gave way to another pair of tight, black leather trousers.
Evan Rosier and Alan Wilkes liked leather.
Needless to say, they looked very, very gay. Very gay indeed. They
knew this and it seemed to any observer that they enjoyed this. They
walked arm in arm as though lovers going on a midnight stroll, their
steps in perfect unison with each other.
As they walked, they talked and sent glances, smirks, smiles and
seductive gestures towards the other guests, no matter who or what
they were. One woman had brought a long a lap dog that had found
itself being purred at as the pair walked by.
Sexuality dripped from them like honey, and they advertised their
joint bi-sexuality freely to anyone who looked their way, young or
old, ugly or not.
They did not discriminate.
They talked of many things on their travels, mainly of a certain
Malfoy and where such a man was likely to be lurking. They passed a
servant baring a tray of champagne glasses and they each took one,
both pinching the unfortunate butler's arse as the progressed past.
They drank, discussed the nature of the champagne, the age, the
vintage, the year, the flavour and took another glass.
Any listener unused to them would soon find themselves feeling
slightly head-achy. Not because of the mundane conversation matter,
but the way in which it was said.
Innuendos aside, Rosier and Wilkes were peculiar in their manner of
speech.
Suddenly, something seemed to have caught their eye, as they turned
in unison, without warning and starting walking with a more
purposeful step. They left their glasses off with another waiter, not
being mindful of his personal space in any way at all and then headed
to the shiniest people in the room. They smirked as they shared a
silent thought.
Malfoy always enjoyed shiny things.
They approached the couple from behind, noted the innuendo hidden in
this and smirked some more.
"Lucius..." Rosier began
"Malfoy," Wilkes continued as they walked into the newly betrothed
couple's line of vision.
"And of course, Narcissa..." Rosier said, eyes travelling over
Narcissa's figure freely, not being one to spare people of any form
of possible embarrassment.
"Dellamorte, we're positive," Wilkes went on, his tone appreciative.
They gently took one hand each from her and bowed over, placing a
soft kiss on the back of them. The straightened up and let her hands
go.
"We never mistake a beauty," Rosier explained and leant over to
Wilkes, removing the rose from his hair. Wilkes took the rose from
Rosier and presented it to the sparkling figure of Narcissa.
They smiled at her becomingly before turning to Lucius.
"Lucius,"
"You devil,"
"How could you do this to us?"
"We were so sure we would have you this year..."
They spoke continuously, one after the other and without pause. They
smirked at the Malfoy shamelessly.
"Congratulations,"
"None the less..." Wilkes completed their speech and they advanced
smoothly on Lucius, each placing a kiss on either of the blond's
cheek before moving out of his personal space.
Perhaps a little explanation is called for here. Rosier and Wilkes
were as inseparable as Crabbe and Goyle, and it was rare to hear one
name without the other. They did everything the mind could conceive
together, worked, played, slept, ate.. everything. That and the fact
that they were incredibly over-sexed was all that really could be
said about them. They were sluts and damned proud of the fact, strong
in the belief that sex good get them everywhere.
They had seen MacNair around the grounds somewhere, and had already
decided to hunt him out. But first, there was the matter of presents.
And then, of course, the sheer volume of people that they intended to
drop in on...
Busy busy busy.
Whether or not they had received an invite from Malfoy was
immaterial. They had entered the party fashionably late, but had
deprived themselves of the true drama and proper entrances they felt
they deserved. This was Malfoy's party after all, and besides, rose
petals were expensive at this time of year.
Wilkes grinned at Malfoy.
"Rosier has become rather attached to your present.." he began,
interrupted by a cute little pout from Rosier. Wilkes patted his head
comfortingly.
"We've been thinking for quite a while now as to what to get you,"
Rosier confessed, and Wilkes took over.
"So we looked at your imagine, and found it bizarrely..."
"Incomplete."
"So....Rosier, if you will do the honours.."
"Too kind, Wilkes. Please, you do it.."
"I gave the lovely lady the rose, Evan, dearest,"
"But.." Another pout. Wilkes sighed with exaggeration and seized the
cane from Rosier's grasp, hit him over the head with it lightly,
eliciting cute little 'eep!' of pain.
Wilkes smiled fondly at his sulking partner and passed the cane to
Malfoy. It was lacquered oak, heavy ostentatious and best of all...
had a silver snakes head on top, fangs bared and tiny emeralds as
eyes.
"Congratulations," they said again, and grinned like Cheshire cats at
the couple.
"You two look..."
"Perfect."
For once, they exercised enough tact not to say anything about Snape.
Luc: It's over, Sev. You can stop blubbering now.
Sev: I'm not blubbering. *is perfectly fine*
Luc: It's alright. You can let it out.
Sev: Let what out? What are you talking about?
Luc: There, there, Sev. *hold him*
Sev: *shrugs and cops a feel*