One Nice Bug Per Day

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@rowle-inglikeastone
rxblestrangeâ:
â
Rabastan chuckled, a skeptical eyebrow raising slightly. She read a book on quidditch and she knew the names of all the balls? Heâd certainly be quizzing her on that later, simply for his own entertainment. âWell, Iâm certainly glad your ears are still in the same condition as when I left.â He teased, head shaking slightly at her dramatics. When the server approached, he let Lyanna order first before relaying his own, making sure to ask for extra chips and ordering a tea as well. His sleeping schedule had been slightly messed up from working long and erratic hours while he was away, tea always made him sleepy. Hopefully heâd be able to head straight to bed after lunch with Lyanna.
âYou neednât worry about my safety.â Rabastan replied, though he knew it likely wouldnât help much. While he wasnât necessarily careful while out on the job, he could certainly handle himself. The extensive training heâd gone through when he was hired made sure he knew how to protect himself, as if fighting in a war didnât prepare him for that. Still, he never once felt as though he was in any particularly dangerous situations. âRegardless, Iâm happy to be back, too. I canât tell you how excited I am to sleep in my own bed tonight.â
--
âIf I donât who will,â she hums narrowing her eyes, âI know youâre strong and smart. You survived so much during the war, always on the front lines doing the right thing. What was best for all of us. I worried then. I worry now. . . Iâm allowed to.â She finishes a little triumphantly. Lyanna has so few friends after all, sheâs not sure sheâd ever feel happy again if she lost one of them Rabastan especially, who seems so unfazed by her quirky obsession with spiders and always remembered to write back. Furthermore, as the second son -the spare, as they were commonly called in Pureblood society, he would never be given the same level of concern. Second children had to look out for one another when no one else would.Â
âThereâs nothing like a good tuck in on fresh sheets and a pile of pillows,â Lyanna agrees dreamily, âI hope itâs everything youâve been waiting for. I know Ireland isnât that far but its still easy to miss home. I wish I traveled more. Maybe I can do one of this assistant study positions the ministry does. My grasp of dead languages has greatly improved since school. Maybe. . . it seems kind of scary too. Is it dangerous all the time? Do you get used to being gone so much?âÂ
astrid bergĂšs frisbey (spanish, english-american, french) actress, model, 1986.
beautfvlâ:
â
Isabelle stands awkwardly, arms tucked up against her chest as she watches Lyanna  f l u i d l y  restack the books. She wants so desperately to help, but somehow it feels WRONG to step in now. Like cutting in on a waltz.
âThatâs very kind of you,â she finally manages. She watches for another quiet moment, then seemingly STARTLES back to attention and remembers to reply.
âOh, ah â â Her brow knits and she licks her lips, struggling to find the word in English sheâs looking for. âI am looking for, ah. Cookbooks?â
--
Lyanna waits patiently for an answer. She finds herself wondering if this other woman is a bit slow or just exceptionally French. She remembers things taking so long when she was young during her family vacations in France. But those had only been every few years. Most of her childhood had been spent on the moderately sized Rowle estate. When she was young she had been too fearful to leave her familyâs side.Â
Now she wishes maybe she had seen more of the world.Â
âHmmm, try near the eastern corner, by the window on the blue shelves. There are usually some books about food. Are you trying a new hobby or to impress a betrothal?âÂ
rxblestrangeâ:
â
Rabastan opened his mouth to make a comment about Rodolphus, but figured it might be in his best interest not to say anything. It was a rabbit hole he didnât want to go down, and he knew Lyanna well enough to know she wouldnât want to speak ill of him. Instead he laughed at her next words, harder than he intended. Was she really that upset that he couldnât attend the Gala with her? He had written her a letter letting her know he couldnât get the evening off from work, he hoped that would have been enough. âMy condolences, m'dear. I can only imagine the torture you ensued without my presence. Next time Iâll simply go AWOL from my post to attend the dance with you.â Rabastan teased. âAlthough the Harpies are having a good season, I donât blame him for wanting to talk about that.â He added, to simply remind her that he was a quidditch fan himself, though he always knew not to bring it up with her knowing she didnât care.
âI was thinking a sandwich. BLT sounds exactly what I need right now.â He said, closing his menu before looking back up to her. âWhy donât you order your salad and Iâll get extra chips with my sandwich so we can share?â He suggested before glancing over her shoulder to grab the attention of the server.
--
âIt was a tragedy without you, I hope you carry the weight of such guilt for the rest of your days Rabastan Lestrange,â she pouts a little adding salt to a wound he clearly doesnât have. She knows he has to work and he does an important job. More often than not she finds herself wondering about it when she receives his letters. What kind of daring adventures he gets up to and exotic places he visits. Honestly, itâs more than enough that he still deigns to write to her when she has so little to offer him in return.Â
âIâm glad theyâre having a good season. I even read a book about quidditch and I know what all the little balls are called and the whole history of the game. But hours Rabbit? I thought my ears would bleed,â she drags her bony hands down her face in a comical manner. Though she perks up at the suggestion of being able to steal some of his fries. Sheâs not sure its polite, meals with her family were always so proper and when she was alone and remembered to eat, she generally just grazed. âIf youâre sure you donât mind,â the slightest hint of doubt creeping into her tone, âbut if you do want to eat them all thatâs fine too. I wonât blame you.â She orders when the server comes over but stays quiet until theyâre gone again. Itâs easy to talk to Rabastan but sheâs still prone to clamming up around strangers. Her hazel eyes drift back to her friendâs face and with it, a spark of warmth alights, âIâm so glad youâre back safe.âÂ
mrlestrangeâ:
.
âIâve been giving my brother patience since before you were born, Miss Rowleâ he responded, flashing her a charming smile. He didnât go into details on how his little brother was basically parasiting the family vault while he had his own money to use. âThey are also blessed with freedom, Lyannaâ Rabastan could do pretty much whatever he pleased that it wouldnât matter, as opposed to Rodolphus who was constantly under the most strict scrutiny. âYou are too kind and my brother certainly does not deserve such kindness from a wonderful lady like yourselfâ he responded before taking his coffee and sipped it. âSpiders?â
Rodolphus nearly choked with his coffee when she said she was learning necromancy. âNecromancy?â He asked, raising a brow but visibly interested in what she had to say. âWho are you planning to bring back, my dear?â He smiled. âI have a friend who might be able to help with that, if youâd like me to, I can ask her if she has good material on the matterâ he offered. âMe? I am always overworkedâ he laughed and waved his hand dismissively. âNormally itâs a good thing, I like my job and I like living the way I doâ he told her, winking at her playfully.
âSo, my dear, what brings you here? What can I do for you?â
--
Sheâs not sure freedom is the word she would use to describe being the spare and not the heir. The expectations were different, the rules of engagement altered but they were there. Lyanna knew she could never understand what Thorfinn or Rodolphus had gone through to be the perfect son, but she thought, they also would never know what it was like to live in the shadow of another simply for having been born second. âHeâs my friend, I care for his safety and happiness very much,â is all she can offer in rebuttal; meek demeanor once more superseding her desire to make Rodolphus understand that Rabastan is so much more than his tardiness. He is exciting and smart and brave and a Ravenclaw like her.Â
âI love spiders,â she says quickly, as if thatâs enough to make it make sense. A million words rattling around in her head and she really never picks the right thing to say. She fidgets nervously under his scrutiny, as kind and welcoming as it might be. âThat would be very helpful if your friend is amenable. Iâm always interested to meet another interested in the art,â her hands wring one another, creating red spots on her ghost-white skin, âwell I thought the Dark Lord for all of us, but I canât find him no matter how much I look. . . maybe he was too small. In the end? Maybe he doesnât want me to find him. . .â she sucks in a deep breath, courage faltering and grateful for the change of subject. Although her reason for visiting is just as nerve wracking, the examination of another failure to put beneath his lens.Â
âI want a baby, Mr. Lestrange. I want a family. Iâm tired of waiting and I was wondering if I had enough money maybe I could buy a husband? Like sometimes how men buy wives? It doesnât matter what language he speaks. . . but I thought we could look over my finances and see if I have enough?âÂ
rxblestrangeâ:
â
Rabastan couldnât help the cocky smirk that hit his lips as the pair of them sat down at the table. Hearing her praises did nothing but boost his already inflated ego, but knowing somebody thought he was more handsome and interesting than his brother sent an unfamiliar satisfactory feeling through him. No one had ever told him he was more than Rodolphus, heâs only ever been told he needed to be more like him. Rabastan enjoyed knowing that somebody thought so highly of him.
âOh, please.â He chuckled slightly as Lyanna continued on. âRodolphus gets nothing but praise all the time, he needs to be knocked down a peg, in my opinion.â Picking up the menu in front of him, Rabastanâs eyes scanned over his options before he glanced back up her again. âDonât worry, anything said between the two of us stays between us. Itâll be our little secret.â He sent her a wink before looking back down to the menu. The cafĂ© didnât have many choices for lunch and heâd decided on a simple sandwich and a cup of tea, knowing he would likely want to nap once heâd got back home. âSo what have you been up to the past few weeks? Were you terribly bored without me?â
--
âIâm sure the weight of expectation takes a toll,â she offers quietly, trying to soften the severity of her earlier opinion. Even if it was true, she probably shouldnât go around comparing them, particularly when she had just asked Rodolphus for his help. She had grown bored of waiting for her parents or Thor to find a suitable replacement for her dead fiance, not when she wanted a family so much. She wasnât getting any younger an it seemed every woman she knew (and respected) was already married. Even Andromeda, repulsive as that arrangement was, had found herself a husband and had a daughter. Why couldnât she? Rodolphus could help her manage her money to get what she wanted.Â
She blushes slightly at his wink. She held so many secrets already, ones that weighed her down and made her feel heavy as cinder blocks. But somehow, the way Rabastan suggests it, doesnât seem like such a bad thing. Lyanna hides behind her own menu, hazel eyes flicking over the options. âI was bored,â she casts a rancorous glance above the top of her menu, âit was very cruel of you to leave me unattended, especially at the Gala. I had to dance with a halfbood and talk to him. About quidditch! Like I care what the Hollyhead Harpies are doing? I donât Rabbit. I donât. Iâm trying to commune with the dead! What are you getting? Iâm thinking a salad, I donât know maybe some chips?â
yourstrulyritaâ:
.
The dead? What was she talking about? Ghosts? Necromancy? Was she a serial killer? Her gut told her that there was a story behind this so she followed her game. Rita hovered her hand discreetely, casting a wandless silencing charm so the driver wouldnât listen to them. âWhy donât you let me decide what I find interesting or not?â She asked with a soft smile as she crossed one leg over the other.
This witch was just a gold mine and she was right there. âVery naughty indeedâ she hummed softly. âAnd did you keep those books?â She asked interested. Her red cheeks could be the best answer she could get, but she asked it regardless. âWe all have secrets, pretty girl, thatâs what makes us more interestingâ she responded, her blue eyes fixed on her as she rolled down the window. Her red lips curved into a smug smirk. âSome say that I amâ she joked playfully, patting her knee with her hand. âI am fineâ she then responded. It wasnât long before the cab stopped at her place. Rita undid the spell and paid to the driver. âCome on, pretty girl, letâs get out of here and share some secretsâ she winked at her her as she got out of the car and waited for Lyanna to do the same.
--
âNo one finds me interesting,â Lyanna says softly rolling her head back to look out the window. The second born and a daughter, she always minded her manners, never hurt anyone but herself during her fits and sheâs never dishonored her family by being caught with another woman. The truth is, as much as she might yearn for the softness, the beauty, the love of another woman, she wanted to make her parents proud more. She wanted a family more. She wanted to redeem her disgraces by being everything she was supposed to be.
Lyanna flops over and contemplates the benefits of just sleeping in this car, but Rita is pretty and sweet and a bed sounds very nice. Despite the wibbly wobbly feeling of her legs and arms she pulls herself out of the cab and stumbles a few feet forward. âWhich. . . mmmm,â she hiccups, âis yours. Ohhhh Kitten Iâve had too much. So much. So many. I donât feel so good anymore. Itâs not fun.â She brushes her hair back from her face and rubs it. She lets out a huff, trying to settle the queasy feeling in her stomach.Â
mrlestrangeâ:
.
When Lyanna said she wanted a London Fog and crackers, he looked at his secretary and nodded his head. His attention then moved back to Lyanna and wondered why was it that she felt nervous around him. She was an odd girl, but not in a bad way. There was something about the youngest Rowle that he couldnât exactly tell what it was, like a secret hiding beneath that facade.
âRabastan? Yes, I believe he has been in Santoriniâ he responded as he took a seat right across from her. Sometimes he envied his brother and the freedom he had. âMy brother likes to keep me waiting, claims to be fashionably late, but I donât think itâs fashionable to make a person wait on purpose, I think itâs just rudeâ he chuckled slightly. Rod had developed a ten minute waiting policy, five if he wasnât that interested in the other. He nodded at her when she spoke about his brother. âHow is he? I havenât seen him in a whileâ he asked politely, right before his secretary knocked first and then walked in with their drinks and crackers. âThank youâ he said before the woman disappeared again. Rod passed her her drink and then took his cup of coffee. Â
âHow you been, Lyanna? Howâs your life going?â He asked politely, not minding to make some small conversation before getting into business.
--
âSantorini? How exciting that must be for him! Iâve always wanted to travel more but it seems so frightening on my own. Donât be too mad at him, Rodulphus. Give him a little more patience, for me. I think second siblings are cursed to always be running behind, or else why wouldnât we be born first,â her hazel eyes are wide, a very mild but genuine plea on Rabastanâs behalf, âI am sure heâs happy to see you. Maybe he just gets distracted on the way. I do, usually by spiders.âÂ
She stops abruptly, realizing sheâs rambling and those things are impolite. Sheâs always happy to talk to the Lestangeâs about themselves, such an admirable family. She nods politely when she receives her drink and small snack. Sheâs not especially hungry, but she hasnât eaten much and she knows she should have something in her stomach to help settle her nerves. âIâve been alright. Iâve been learning a lot about Necromancy but the resource material isnât as accurate as it ought to be so Iâm also having to go way way back to really early magic. My ancient Pict and Sumerian have improved. How are you Rodulphus? Not too overworked I hope!âÂ
heartstrvngsâ:
âOh â â Isabelle recoils away from the sound of the voice, hands up and elbows tucked into her sides. Silvery blue eyes wide like a full moon, she nearly trips backwards over herself. âI â I am so sorry, I did not see you there.â
One hand makes a hesitant, jerky motion towards the spilled books. She wants to reach for them, rebuild the stack, but sheâs not sure if it would be welcome.
âCan I help you? I did not mean â â Her voice trails off, and she makes a glance around at the mess, mouth twisted into a pathetic-looking expression.
--
âItâs alright,â Lyanna soothes, ânothing interesting here. Sometimes the good stuff is at the bottom but not today.â She shrugs the shoulders of her thin frame. Unable to offer much more in appeasement.Â
âI donât work here,â she says after a moment, hunched over re-stacking the toppled books. Sheâll put them all back in the discount bin she dug them out of when she is done. Perhaps a bit more organized than before.Â
âBut I know where most stuff is if youâre looking for something in particular?â
rxblestrangeâ:
There were riots that broke out in Northern Ireland and the Hit Wizards had been called in for crowd control. Rabastan didnât know what the riots had been about, nor did he really care, but it lasted weeks and he was excited to finally come home. Heâd written to Lyanna before leaving, requesting for her to join him for lunch before he headed home, not wanting to cook but knowing heâd be absolutely starving by the time they returned to England.
Walking into the cafĂ©, bags still slung over his shoulders, he heard her before he saw her. Rabastan loved getting that sort of reaction, but it always hit a little different coming from Lyanna. A smile spread across his lips as she approached, his hands settling on her waist as hers found their way to his cheeks. âHow could you possibly forget a face like mine?â He teased, his arms wrapping fully around her to give her a proper hug before he pulled away again, âIâve missed you, too, Ly. Youâre the first person I thought of when I found out I was coming home today.â He admitted, though he wasnât planning on telling another soul about that. âC'mon, Iâm starving, letâs get a bite, yeah?â
--
She nuzzles against him for the brief moment of their hug, disregarding propriety once more for the sake of comfort. If Rabastan Lestrange, an heir to one of the greatest and most pure bloodlines in wizarding history could publicly hug her, she could hug him back. He deserved to be appreciated. He deserved to have all his hard work acknowledged. He deserved to be celebrated. She could give him that, at least -though she felt it could be so much more.Â
âWell you were away for so long and I had nothing to remember you by,â she hums in response, âwell no. I did see your brother and I guess thatâs sort of the same. But not really. Youâre more handsome and interesting.â She speaks idly, making her way back to the table and taking her seat once more. Lyanna can feel herself blushing at his comments and keeps her face turned away until it fades. The second child, and a daughter at that, who would ever think of her first? Sheâs already failed miserably at her one task of forging a marriage alliance. âOh, not that Rudolphus isnât just perfectly amazing, I mean. I didnât men to insult him please donât think I meant it that way. I would never speak poorly of your family Rab,â she pours her next words out nervously, afraid sheâs insulted him without meaning to. She swallows the fear that sheâs annoyed him before theyâve even had a chance to order.Â
@rxblestrange
Lyanna squeals excitedly when she sees Rabastan walk through the door. Sheâs always preferred him to Rodolphus not that sheâd admit such a thing out loud, but they were similar. Both Ravenclaws from a long line of Slytherins. Both second borns and essentially pointless. Itâs highly improper but she rises from her seat where sheâs been waiting and trots over to him, the glass vial at the end of a silver chain bouncing back and forth. She should be embarrassed, she knows she should, but when had Rabastan ever cared for propriety? Pale hands lift to either side of his face and she smiles at him. Her hazel eyes shine with revelry, âyouâve been gone so long I forgot how handsome you are! I missed you so much.âÂ
ofnarcissasâ:
With her husband off doing the expected thing and forcing himself to be social, Narcissa had decided to find somewhere to sit down to take a moment to herself before she would have to be up on her feet circling the room once more. It was a blessing and a curse sometimes being in the position she was, sure there was the wealth and power and not having to want for anything in her life, but then there was also the expectations when it came to events such as this one. They were truly exhausting, even if the airs and graces came very easy to her, and she knew that her family was still being watched for any wrong step, even now.Â
Glancing up as she sensed another sitting down next to her, Narcissa offered Lyanna a polite and welcoming smile as she shifted in her seat. âOh, thank you. Thatâs very kind of you to say.â She nodded. âAnd of course you can. Are you enjoying your night so far?âÂ
--
âI am, itâs been pleasant. I did not realize I had so many coworkers capable of looking so nice! Though I suppose we all look a bit frazzled by the end of the work day,â she offers the third statement quickly trying to amend her blatant criticism of the Ministry staff. Sheâs critical of many things but it is neither polite nor proper to say them out loud, particularly when anything could be overheard. Lyanna shifts in her seat, crossing her legs, and although her dress moves too it doesnât even make the slightest rustle. She is so much like the ghosts sheâs constantly chasing.Â
âI saw Lucius and he was so handsome. You both look like you could be royalty. Are you having fun? Iâm hoping to dance later, maybe one of the Lestrangeâs will dance with me. Theyâre both just the best. Thor too of course but I donât know maybe itâd be weird to dance with your brother?âÂ
mrlestrangeâ:.
Of all the people he expected to walk into his office, Lyanna Rowle was not one of them. âYou did? Forgive me, I havenât been able to check out todayâs agendaâ he apologized with a gentle smile before he held out his hand to help her up.Â
âNonsense, I always have time for you, Miss Rowle. Letâs go insideâ he told her afterwards, flashing that charming smile of his. âWould you like something to drink? Thereâs coffee, tea, water, I believe we have a few butterbeers left as well, perhaps something to eat as well?â He hummed before looking at his secretary. âGet her anything she wantsâ he instructed. âAnd a coffee for me. And please write to my brother, tell him that I expect him to be on time tonight and that if canât do that, then he shouldnât bother coming at allâ he then added before gesturing for Lyanna to walk into his office.
--
Fingers as pale as bone accept the hand offered to her and she rises like a wisp of smoke, with about as much substance. Lyanna smiles back at him trying to relax. Her eyes dart away quickly betraying her nervousness. She smooths down the front of her simple dress, shifting her attention to the secretary, âa London fog would be lovely and maybe some crackers.â
She takes a seat in his office, waiting for him to settle before speaking. She likes him. Heâs charming and kind and brave and importantly, married to Bellatrix. He lacks the particular voraciousness with which Bellatrix lives her life, but she doesnât need that now. She needs a level head and stable hand; she needs someone who will be honest with her. âHas Rabastan been traveling? I always try to have dinner with Thor when he comes back from business. I suppose itâs different for two brothers. No one expects me to compete with him, I simply get to love him and support him. He is my favorite person.âÂ
@ofnarcissasâ
Lyanna has always been what one might call a âfan girlâ of the Malfoys. In her mind theyâre the perfect family. Powerful. Wealthy. Pure. Picturesque. Things she wants for herself, even if sheâd alter some of the finer details for her own tastes. But she canât have a wife, that would be improper. She has to be the wife and hope perhaps she can find a husband as accomodating to her tastes as Rudolphus is to Bellatrix. Narcissa might know someone who fits that bill, at least itâs worth asking -and her desire to associate with the pinnacle of society is a strong motivator pushing her to sit down beside the other woman. âYou look so beautiful Misses Malfoy, may I join you for a short while? If youâre busy I understand. It is quite a night after all,â her voice is low but she makes sure to enunciate, wanting to come across as intelligent and well spoken. It is important to her that Narcissa aprove, though Lyanna could hardly say why, but she needs it. Needs it down to her bones, to be liked by Narcissa.Â
walden-macnairâ:
Walden & Open Ministry Spring Gala
The only thought on Waldenâs mind for the evening was the regret of not having brought a flask or downed a few drinks before attending the gala. Truth be told, he would have preferred being home in significantly less layers than he was wearing for the evening. A drink in one hand, book in the other, and just Alecto as company - an ideal he would have all too happily accepted over being stuck in the atrium with coworkers he had nothing in common with.
Luck wasnât on his side though - more like his having agreed to go long enough to be seen - so he was stuck lazily looking over the group of people in attendance. He could force pleasantries but keeping a neutral expression over his features was proving to be a challenge. It was all too easy to slip back into the look of displeasure at being surrounded by people he wanted nothing to do with.
A drink proved necessary but he quickly regretted the decision. Nothing up to his standards. It wasnât all that surprising but he would have hoped the Ministry would have provided something stronger since they willingly decided to have the community under one roof. âI wouldnât bother,â He sighed when someone neared the table he had snagged his glass from. âTheyâve got the cheap stuff out.â
Lyanna frowns at Waldenâs statement. Her lips are painted a deep shade of berry, the shadow around her eyes even darker. Most surprisingly, every strand of her hair is impeccably groomed into place. Her movements are uncomfortably silent however and she has managed to drift through night so far as more of ghost than a participant. If sheâs lucky she might even float away before anyone notices sheâs gone. Â
Still the opportunity to try and find an eligible husband from the rather diminished market was appealing and the food was free. Lyanna had never been one for excess meals. She picked lightly at the plates that were always set in front of her or forgot to eat altogether when she got caught up in her work. Most of the time she looked frail; able to be blown away by a large gust of wind. There were just so many things that seemed more important than eating when she was doing her research.
âOf course itâs terrible. This is what happens when you trust a bunch of mudbloods with the drinks,â her assessment is severe, although her voice remains quit and soft. She lets out a sigh, âhopefully the food is better. How are you Walden?â
Lyanna Rowle || circa 1985 at the Ministry spring Gala (the dress was crafted from Death Shrouds and makes absolutely no noise as it moves.)