— M O S E S , can you help me carry the B U R D E N : moses, lift my arms ‘cause i C A N ‘ T : hold on and carry all the W E I G H T rodolphus miroslav lestrange. penned by mimi.
i. date, april 1979.
ii. location, knockturn alley.
high risk ? how utterly laughable . crook had practically doubled over at the sight of her . knee presses into unforgiving concrete , jagged expanse digging into bone . fingers , pristine and clean , curl into collar of felon’s ragged coat . free hand administers cracking blows to already roughened visage , her knuckles are bloodied and RAW . red sputters from thin , cracked lips . she revels in the sight . “ we take law breaking very seriously . ” she sneers viciously . corrupt is she , onslaught hidden behind position of authority . alecto rises from knelt position , aphotic gaze flickering to corner of alley where another had made themselves visible . imbrued hand brushes locks away from her face , staining side visage with a striking crimson . “ help .. ” felon sputters from ground , grisly appearance a telling sign of exactly what she’s doing . with a horrifying calm , the heel of her boot meets his visage , the cracking of what she can only assume to be his nose echoes almost serenely . femme stalks forward nonchalantly , closing distance between her and the other . full stop , lips slowly upturn into a chilling smile . “ can i help you ? ”
the strangled plea of assistance enters one ear and...promptly exits through the other, no more than a reverberation on the wind...and one evidently not registered by rodolphus ( maybe, if he had: rare a sound as it would be for a lestrange, he’d have sneered a chuckle, one both of humour and INCREDULITY...as if he were even capable - or in mind - to provide such charity ). it’s the crunch of bone and cartilage which instead catches his intrigue, pulls his gaze to the side, halted in his course - recognition shortly following, in spite of the guise of tenebrosity concealing them both somewhat. with arms folded behind and hands clasped tightly together, crescent-shaped indents left on palms in the wake of the action ( all to...heighten his posture that little more, formidable and unfaltering, back straight like a sharpened blade ), languid and unperturbed strides are made into the narrow, shaded alley — eyes mapping the familiar features, catching on hands mottled with the aftermath of contact with the...unfortunate victim’s profile, crimson sheen streaked over fair skin like some macabre painting. lowly-spoken, gravelly and grating words are given rise a moment later and complimented by a frown — though...they’re tinged around the edges by jest. ‘ my, carrow...i knew you liked to get your hands dirty — but you do make an AWFUL...mess. ’ obsidian orbs avert with that, cast around their surroundings instead - as if uncaring, though notably cautious, too: if only for he remained...wary of watching eyes, those whom might...recognise him from the ministry, pry for information on the circumstances which had him venturing down knockturn alley’s unsavoury pathways. ‘ this...work...or — ’ gaze darts down pointedly and momentarily to the figure on the ground...only to return to her own, head inclining a little in both query and conjecture. ‘ ...PLEASURE? ’
— i’m mimi, i’m here, i’m queer and a little hyper on coffee right now ( when am i not ? ). gotta say, i’m feeling super amped ( and lucky ) to be here and write with you all and down for any plots you wanna cast my way or discuss ! a bit about me, i’m twenty-one, living in the GMT+9 timezone and keep a...hella weird schedule because college courses rule my life and sleep is an enigma. under the cut you’ll find subpar aesthetics and a few arbitrary headcanons for my trash son, though it’s not a conclusive list and i’ll be making a separate post for his history and events that have led him to this point in his morally-questionable life after i’ve finished fleshing out his character ( and have laid this current damn college assignment to rest ) !
* △ — the dark lord has targeted [ RODOLPHUS LESTRANGE ] ! the muggles say he holds resemblance to [ BEN BARNES ]. the [ THIRTY ] year old [ CIS MALE ] was [ STRATEGIC & UNDOGMATIC ] before the war, but have now become [ GREEDY & MASOCHISTIC ]. though they were once a part of [ SLYTHERIN ], they have now taken up the position of an [ UNSPEAKABLE ]. whispers throughout the ministry claim that the [ PURE-BLOOD ] is actually [ A DEATH EATER ], but i wouldn’t report that to the daily prophet.
full name: rodolphus miroslav lestrange ( rodolphus is the latin form of the name rudolph, a germanic name deriving from two stems: rod or hrōð, meaning "fame", and olf meaning "wolf". miroslav is a slavic masculine name meaning “peace and glory, peace glorifier” or even “a person praising the land / area" ) .
age: thirty.
sexuality: bisexual, demiromantic.
date of birth: the fourteenth of september in nineteen forty-eight.
gender: cis-male.
fixation: smoking.
strategic: though he doesn’t...doubt his abilities, he’s a forward thinker and doesn’t seek to leave much to chance for the sole reason he can. he will analyse a situation and strip it apart and then account for every possible route and consequence that could occur...not necessarily to choose the safest or easiest approach ( since he rather likes a challenge and indeed performs well under circumstances that are considered more difficult or challenging ) — but merely for the sole point of knowing.
undogmatic: a problematic one, maybe — a little hesitant and unwilling to accept authority or dogma as gospel, seeking to find fault in all inklings of power presented to him. rodolphus is the type to question and pull apart every facet of information presented to him...though facades and guises and pretending to agree paint another picture. it goes both ways, for he does not willingly accept or agree with the ministry’s rule...though the dark lord’s is hardly faultless, too ( and has...on occasion, been routinely picked and pulled apart by yours truly ).
greedy: insatiable, never satisfied, selfish at the best of times - rodolphus is always in want of more...and solely focus is on obtaining it. less so in tangible, material matters ( he couldn’t care less about wealth or possessions ) — and more in considering the intangible, with a habit of demanding and expecting too much from others: and in want of prestige, sublimity and respect for himself...even if he is undeserving of such.
masochistic: self-explanatory. maybe on account of his increased exposure to pain in his youth...he’s developed, somewhat a taste for it. maybe part of it is lingering thought and conditioning that it is deserved and normal after what the lestrange parents did to their sons — or maybe he’s always been a little twisted and had a mind for the unsavoury and sordid. self-inflicted or not...pain in its varied intensities ( and the odd case of humiliation ) is often met with a...tortured groan and followed by a pleasured grin — a sure-fire way to capture his intrigue, his attention and...rouse him a little ( but you didn’t hear that from me ).
AESTHETIC
dirt under fingernails and the hesitation before touching hands. hanging cobwebs and ticking clocks in a darkened house of inherited insanity. glowing embers and the throw of candlelight. ‘one’s aches and pains are all one’s own.’ a crowd of people dressed in black. pulling at loose threads. a collection of quills and a dying candle on a table. ink smudged on parchment and sleeves. unanswered knocks on doors. lonely footsteps in the dead of night. tapping fingers and the imprint of nails pressing into palms. broken, reflecting shards of a mirror. ‘legacy. what is a legacy?’ inexplicable drafts and the sound of tearing paper. obscurity and hastily-averted gazes. polished leather and neatly folded shirts. the taste of blood and touch of protruding, barely-healed scars. strewn sheets, slowly-falling feathers and fallen moths. ‘i am nothing in my soul if not obsessive.’ charcoal eyes, melancholic lips and a blunt, grating voice. iron-forged signet rings and silver bands. grey linen and black leather. a lone, carved chair in an empty, dimly-lit room. deteriorating pages of old tomes. an unsettling feeling and byronic boredom.
HEADCANONS
i: amortentia — his amortentia is an…odd mix. a blend of peppermint leaves and fresh snow. wood varnish on an old piece of furniture and the lingering hint of never-quite fading cigarette smoke. the gleam of sweat on skin after a dalliance and sheets that have been slept in.
ii: physicalities — it seems that above average height runs in the lestrange family. though he’s slightly shorter than his brother (only by a little, though enough to cause comical chagrin being the elder of the brothers), rodolphus still stands at six-one which is tall enough as is. complete with his lean frame, near-black eyes, a mystery scar that can occasionally be seen peeking out from the collars of shirts and obsidian locks of hair slicked back precisely: his entire visage is…intimidating and relatively formidable…one he takes pride and care in, if only to balance the more rough aspects of his appearance with that which he can control and perfect ( born out of insecurities he neither voices nor acknowledges ) …all which often works in his favour. though, when paired with charismatic words and an occasional teeth-baring grin…exactly what he thinks about you and where you stand is anyone’s guess. like his brother, he also bares the dark mark on his left forearm, routinely concealed beneath the multiple layers he wears when at work.
iii: blood — they say family comes first…and while…to an extent, that is true: even that has a limit. in rodolphus’ case: such a saying extends only to his brother. rodolphus has always been the less proactive of the two, a little passive and one to bide his time…too long - evidenced by the fact it was rabastan the one to kill their parents, after the years of…questionable parenting the two endured. this...has always been somewhat of an achilles heel for rodolphus and left never-quite quelled guilt in the wake of it, that rabastan had to take matters into his own hands, that he didn’t help, that he didn’t do it in lieu of his younger brother, wasn’t even there when the lifeblood of the lestrange parents finally was spilled, no less — onto the wooden floor of the family home. if only furthered by the guilt that he couldn’t protect rabastan from their questionable parenting and that he never retaliated or acted against them in those years of their youth ( that sicker, more macabre part of him, maybe...revelling in the pain of maltreatment they received and forgetting to protect his brother from it )...he’s changed his tune a little and made more of a point to put passivity aside for rabastan, in some ways trying to atone for failing his brother the first time. he would without hesitation lay down his life and/or do what was necessary to protect his younger brother in this war - and out of it. dangerous perhaps, for his loyalty to rabastan far proceeds his loyalty to the…cause they both serve and to the dark lord, too…and should occasion arise…his actions, if pushed or necessary, might reflect that. of course, that ambiguity is only for him to know.
iv: unspeakable — at present, he works in the department of mysteries. this is less out of personal interest in the matters he deals with and only slightly out of the allure of both the secrecy and confidential…happenings he has a hand in: and taken more as a position of advantage, working in close proximity with other members of the ministry, working within their field and handling more…delicate information…which loose lips let slip for the dark lord. he initially started with investigations and research in ‘thought’ when taking up his position there years ago, though was later…promoted to a position under the hall of prophecies and study surrounding that field instead. surprisingly…within the workplace…he is well-liked and respected ( maybe a little feared, too...though that’s only speculation ), adept at his position, despite a more…austere and stoic exterior. alas, he knows how to turn on the charm and the charisma when necessary, to bite his tongue and put that clever wit of his to use in the more…unassuming of ways. he seeks to maintain his role there, if only to keep himself ( and his brother ) in the dark lord’s favour by remaining useful.
v: literary — a lesser known…detail about rodolphus ( one he does not seek to discuss, either ) is he is quite the bibliophile, a guilty-pleasure which took root in his youth, carried him through schooling, a less-than-loving home and beyond. note, the nature of the texts he reads…might be considered questionable, dealing in dark magic and concepts more often than not — but when not partaking in morally ambiguous pursuits nor at the beck-and-call of the dark lord, he will often indulge himself and be found tucked into a moderately-comfortable leather armchair with a weighty text in hand.
vi: patronus — rodolphus’ patronus is a raven. ravens in some muggle cultures are considered to be a signifier of bad luck, death or ‘the underworld’ - though that’s not all the charcoal-feathered bird symbolises and not what makes it an accurate fit for rodolphus. they are also…vocal and unconventional, unpredictable and knowing, quiet and observant watchers, calculated and precise when it comes to revealing themselves. know how to remain hidden and are charismatic when in want or need. simultaneously seeking liberation and victim to a horribly greedy nature. emotional though able to surpress and ignore it. it is memories of his brother, the only truly positive ones he has, which enable him to conjure the patronus.
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