History Repeats Itself [Hathor & Marcus]

For Hathor it was yet another day around France. Yet another boring day of walking around the streets, seeing the same people and waving at them with a smile, as if they were your friends. But they weren't. Hathor didn't have friends. At least, not in the sense most people would expect. Hathor was not your common girl, but she certainly looked like one. That was the privilege of being a Pureblood. From a young age, you became an actor. A good liar. A good everything.

Walking down the streets in her black pumps, the looks of many men were attracted to her, with her black simple dress hugging her curves. She was a very pretty woman, and the witch knew exactly how to use those attributes to her advantage. It was what she did best after all. But today she was not in the mood of playing around with foolish men that would love to offer their money for her.
Today, the young witch had decided to visit, once again, one of her most favorite places.

The Louvre Museum.

The French witch walked through the doors of the museum, smiling at the guard by the door. She was a casual visitor, and the man already knew she meant no harm. She was simply, admiring!

Hathor usually visited the Egyptian Antiquities the moment she stepped foot inside the building, but this time, she changed her route. Instead, she moved towards the Greek Art department, smiling at the sights she had already seen many times in the past. This was the only thing Hathor wasn't getting bored of. This was the only thing she found interesting.

It wasn't unusual for Hathor to find herself lost in her own world as she wandered around the building, but even during these times, she was well aware of what was happening around her as well. And this time made no difference. There were many people around her, admiring the beautiful statues, but also the art. Ceramics, paintings, anything actually. Some people recognised as wizards, since they had attended quite a few of the usual Family Parties, well, gatherings. But others were simple.. people. Going about their day or even foreign visitors who took an interest in the same forms of art as her.

After all, she was foreign as well. Greek was not her ethnicity.

But these people were not the only thing that caught Hathor's eye. Due to the many times she had visited the Louvre, she was almost fully aware of the people that visited as well. At least, the rich people. Or the people with some sort of a title to their names. But this time, she was unprepared for what she was about to face.

One thing she was definitely aware of though, was the fact that a man was checking her out. He was watching her, as if he was trying to figure out something, and what surprised her was the fact that he didn't have the look so many other men had when they saw her. And her thoughts were proven not a couple of minutes later, when the man didn't even make a move towards her.

Of course, she had met a few shy men in the past, but even them had some sort of confidence. Enough to bring themselves before her and compliment her about how beautiful she was, and tell her that they would feel honored to be accompanied by her. Of course, Hathor did not give them the pleasure they so wished for. She did not accompany any man who threw himself at her feet. Even if he were a Pureblood.

But this man had that... that something that she couldn't figure out. And even though he was looking at he intensely, he didn't even dare to make a move.
He just looks like another handsome boy, nothing too interesting , the voice in her head spoke up. So instead of going over to him, Hathor made sure he knew that she was well aware of his attention, turning to fully face him and flashing him one of his charming smiles, before she turned away, moving towards one of the guards, the one working for their family and discretely asking him whether he knew who the man was.

"He's Marcus Westbrook, my lady. A Pureblood."
Nodding once, Hathor thanked him for his services, then turned her attention back to the man, Marcus.
Once she had caught his eye once again, she gave him a seductive smile, then turned on her heel, moving out of the Greek Antiquities Department, and towards the Ancient Egyptian one.
If he was a Pureblood indeed, she'd have to make connections. But she wouldn't be the one to make the move that openly.

Hathor was positive the man would follow. Or that was what made other believe. That she was sure about everyone and everything, when in all truth, she was simply playing a game that could be easily lost. But it was all about how well you could read the one you are playing against. Hathor was able to see the moves of the other people before they made them, and that had her prepared to deal with anything coming her way. She was just that good.

So when the man followed her indeed towards the Ancient Egypt Department, Hathor stopped 'running away' and instead remained put, looking around the artifacts with mild interest, since most of it was captivated by the male figure who was soon standing beside her, giving her goose bumps all over her body.

That surprised the French witch, since no person she had met so far had an aura like his. He seemed strong and determined, and something about him screamed confidence and sex, but Hathor wouldn't name any of them. She would have to wait and see how he was going to play his cards. Life was like chess. One move could lead to checkmate really fast.

And that was not what she wanted right now.

"I'm assuming you didn't ask the guards to kick my ass, and yet, you're of acquaintance."

A small smile touched the woman's lips, but she did not turn to look at him at all. Instead, her eyes were focused on The Great Sphinx of Tanis. A marvelous sight to behold. The Egyptians were fascinating, and the love for Egypt was inherited from her mother, who was a lover of Egypt. After all, she was named after the Egyptian Goddess of Love.

"Marcus Westbrook."

"I know," Hathor said, not making a move to give him her name yet, although she fully turned her attention to him. Finally taking a good look at him, Hathor could not lie. He was a very handsome man, and a Pureblood of course. He also seemed quite wealthy, meaning that it could be a great opportunity for business. If only she knew...

"Je m'appelle Hathor. Hathor Valois." The french accent was in place, as she introduced herself in French. Her English were very good, but Hathor always believed that French were a passionate language, and it made her appear more seductive.

"This is your first time here.." she mused, giving him leverage to explain himself why. Hathor was not going to ask him straightforwardly.

Hathor couldn't help but smile at the reply she received at her introduction. He had used the same words as her, and in French too, proving that he obviously was well raised. Not that she had thought otherwise, but it never hurt to test the theories. It was nice to see that someone was going by the rules she was playing though, and that he wasn't just like the rest. Sweet talker full of shit.
She knew how to read behind all the crap, due to the fact she was the best at that.


But when he talked about not being in being in France for the first time, Hathor had to say that she were intrigued. How come she had never heard about him from the Family? She knew quite a few Pureblooded Families around Europe, since that was her job, but no one seemed to inform her about this specific one. The fact that the guard knew though, meant that her family already had connections with them. Which also meant that Hathor was kept in the dark about this all along. Something didn't seem right with this one.

"Here, yes. I was told I might find a beautiful woman here, but I am afraid I only see porcelain. Porcelain art, porcelain dolls, and... little personality."

If Hathor was holding a glass of wine, as she usually does, it would have slipped form her fingers and land on the floor, breaking into million pieces. The shock on her face was quite obvious as Marcus turned on his heel and moved away from her, leaving her alone to realise what had just happened. No man on earth had ever dared to speak to her like that, and not only that, but have the audacity to move away from her like that. Hathor was used to the attention, the right kind of it, and now that someone had dared to take all of that away before he could even give her some, she had lost the ground beneath her feet.

Who does he think he is?, the voice in her head popped up, making Hathor close her eyes and take a deep breath, calming herself down and pulling herself together before she made a fool out of herself. Hathor was a Valois, and a Valois never bowed down to people like him.

"Well don't you know just enough to jump to conclusions about someone?" Moving soundly behind him, Hathor pushed herself on her tip toes, enough to whisper to him. "That was not a smart move, Marcus."
Smirking, she moved away once again, towards a sarcophagus that was nearby.

"How about we start again then, hm? You are Marcus Westbrook, and you've been to France before, but not here, in Louvre. What made you want to visit such place? You certainly don't seem very.. artistic. Maybe it's due to the lack of the right type of stimulus. You English people don't have much to offer, do you?"

"I already told you what I am here for, and that my reason for being here has become somewhat... disappointing."


Hathor simply couldn't accept that. She was never spoken to like this, and even if she gave him another chance in order to change his statement before it was too late, her charm did not touch him at all. It was as if he had a repel for her seduction. Or he was simply very good at getting on her nerves that badly. She didn't know which was worse, truth be told. Because for sure, neither sounded very pleasurable.


"And, you're right, I'm not interested in art, not so much, anyway, though some of those Greek pottery pieces are rather interesting. Homosexuality was quite the thing when those pots were made."

At least she was right about one or two things about him. He was a Pureblood, and a very strong willed one it seemed, but he was also not interested in art. Something that made Hathor scowl a bit. She didn't like it when people pretended to enjoy her interests just to get close to her. They were liars. And Hathor hated liars.

"As for an offer, I think you'll find the English are quite like the famous flower of the country. You've heard of the War of the Roses, I'm sure. Much like the rose, you have to go careful not to confuse looks for innocence, I have sharp thorns that'll hurt you if you try too hard."

This next statement made the French witch smirk. He was one cocky asshole, she was right about that as well, but for some reason, even though he was getting on her nerves so bloody much, she was interested in him. Maybe the fact that he was extremely different from her, but at the same time they were alike, was what made him so.. intriguing.

"Am I supposed to feel scared? Threatened even, Monsieur Marcus? Because I am not."

Smirking, she made her way close to him once again, loving the challenge that had erupted from nowhere.
"Do you know anything about the French? I'd like to inform you, if you don't."