[center][img]http://i33.photobucket.com/albums/d94/Malfoys_one_and_only_girl/Signatures/Jafar_3.gif[/img][/center] [center][h1][color=Firebrick]Jafar Sholeh - Present Day - The Moors Castle[/color][/h1][/center] 

[color=firebrick] Appearing in a quick flash of fire, the smoke had barely enough time to dissipate before Jafar knew that Maleficent was in one of her moods without even having to lay eyes on her. Having been serving his Queen faithfully over the duration of thirteen years, there were certain things that The Serpent King had been able to pick up on rather quickly - most notably being her moods. 

His eyes lazily watched as a handful of servants ran past him without even taking notice of his sudden presence, shards of wood and what looked like glass following after them as they screamed in terror and fled for their lives. With a tired sigh, Jafar righted his gaze back to the entrance of the throne room where he knew the center of the commotion to be coming from; where Maleficent resided. Really, he had only left Agrabah in the first place to have a nice, quiet and relaxing evening with his Queen; perhaps share stories from their day with one another - he had a particularly pleasing report on The Evil Queen, Cilla Grimhilde and knew Maleficent to have a few stories of her own, but it didn't look as though he would be getting any of those things this evening. Not when she was in such a mood that had her servants' paying the consequences. It was quite possible that one of Maleficent's stops she had made that day did not go according to plan - his best guess would of been The Lion King; such a sensitive, over-tempermental beast. 

Readjusting the grip of his cobra-headed staff, Jafar drummed his fingers against it's shaft, seriously considering just going back to his palace in Agrabah lest he ended up putting Maleficent in an even worse mood by his mere presence. Not to mention, Jafar was never particularly fond of dealing with Maleficent when she was in a mood, it was exhausting, delicate work - like trying to diffuse a bomb without proper instruction. One wrong comment, one wrong look or expression, one lack of a comment she expected from him, and it was all over. But Jafar quickly decided against leaving when he realized then that she would have been able to sense his power the very moment he arrived, knowing that he was here, close by. If he left now, there was no doubt about it, he would have made things very, [i]very[/i] much worse. And he knew by experience that such a thing was possible. 

There was a soft flutter of wings behind him, a rare-colored [url=https://images6.alphacoders.com/546/546250.jpg]macaw[/url] managing to slip through the fire portal before it's closing came to a hover over his right shoulder before extending it's talons and coming to a rest there. The bird ruffled it's feathers, it's neck twisting and then shrinking down into its body as it got comfortable on its perch before sitting completely still. Closing his eyes for a moment, seeming to pay no mind at all to the bird, Jafar braced himself for the torrid of emotions that was about to be thrown his way (perhaps literally). Once more, he adjusted the grip on his staff and forced his feet forward, keeping his head held high with an air of confidence that only came with being (arguably) the most powerful sorcerer within all the realms. 

Using his fingers to brush away the curtaining lock of hair over the left side of his face with his free hand, Jafar entered the room, tapping the head of the staff against the threshold has he passed it by to audibly let Maleficent know that he was there and entering. His dark eyes looked over the scene in front of him, the corners of his lips curling into a firm sort of smile as though he were trying to hold it back. The room was in absolute shambles. Servants, young and old either lying on the floor, dead from the shrapnel of the carnage, or trying to drag the others away that still had a chance of living. Truly, it was an amusing sight, watching the rabble scurry like frightened rats before him. But he hadn't been the reason for their fright. The woman sitting upon the throne, nursing a goblet of wine was. And it was that terrible power that had him falling in love with her all over again. Truly beautiful as was the woman herself. So long as her anger wasn't directed towards him, anyway. "

"Shall I post a "help wanted" sign on the front doors of the castle, then?" Jafar asked, unable to contain the snide remark in his amused enthusiasm. "Rwaaah! Help wanted!" the bird on his shoulder repeated by its on volition, making it that much harder for Jafar to keep from anything so much as a chuckle. He knew his cheek could only get him so far with her current temperament, however, and decided to move on. 

He continued to walk across the room towards her, tapping the end of his cane with every other step he took, it's sound reverberating off of the stone walls to fill the still silence of the air. Upon getting closer, however, Jafar then realized the source of her mood that had his steps faltering slightly, his amused, almost child-like expression shifting into something that more resembled annoyance and impatience. Her outfit... she had been to Agrabah. One small-time quirk that Maleficent seemed to have about her was the fact that wherever she went, she adored the proper clothing for it. Time and time again, Jafar would visit the Moors to catch her in clothes from The Pride Lands, Avonlea, the Bayou, Swan Lake... He always knew where she had been, or where she was going. Though this time... she adorned the garb that was native to [i]his[/i] home - the sari of a true, royal Arabian woman from Agrabah. He wanted to smile, the pride swelling up in his chest so much that he didn't know what to do with it - other than the fact that he was also very confused. If she had been in Agrabah... why hadn't she sought him out? Insecurities began to swarm his mind. Who else would she be meeting there? Time and time again, Maleficent had reassured him that there was no one else... but then again, years ago, she hadn't exactly counted on Jafar finding out about her brief involvement with Scar Lionheart. 

Jafar did not take the news well. The revelation had the two fighting for the better part of a year before, in an extremely rare and desperate act of wanting forgiveness, Maleficent went out to the Marketplace in El Dorado and purchased for him, with her own gold, the very bird that was perched upon his right shoulder. Though much smaller at the time, and needing much care and attention in its new-born state, Jafar accepted the gift as a symbol that never again would she lie or keep things from him. Though he would forever detest the Lion King - never again trusting anything that fell from his lips, and wanted nothing more than to see him dead. 

He wouldn't lie. The thought of simply snapping his fingers and disapearing in a tornado of fire right before her very eyes crossed his mind. Though without knowing the true purpose as to why she had on that specific wardrobe kept him from doing so, needing some kind of explanation first. He instead stopped just a few feet in front of her. With his free hand, he waved it in a small semi-circle at his head height, a plume of orange smoke appearing in her lap and then dissipated. Left behind was a small shard of what looked like glass - jagged and broken off of something much larger and apparently important by the smug look that Jafar then gave Maleficent as he took his free hand and rested it on the small of his back. 

"A fragment from our dear Queen Cilla's mirror. It's amazing what one can accomplish when the target succumbs to the effects of viper venom laced into their wine." Jafar told her with an air of pride in his voice. Then, shooting her a side-ways glance, "She's fine. A fraction of the dose we slipped the Lion when he, too, became unruly. But enough to let her know she may have her toys back when she learns to play nicely." [/color]