#c. regulus

[viviantraversing]

WHEN: Wednesday, 10 November, 1980; around 11 o’clock am  WHERE: Fiendfyre, Banchory WHO: Vivian Travers & Regulus Black ( @reguwusblack​ )

The Dark Lord summoned Marceaux, of course. Vivian looked upon her brother’s still, comatose body at their Barnton estate. The mark on his arm roared to life, beckoning him to join the fold. She ran fingers through his chestnut air, plucking a few strands, following the chain of events that accompanied the call. Until her body found pause. It was Marceaux’s duty. Marceaux’s band of brothers. Marceaux’s destiny. 

But what if wasn’t his? A sinister smirk carved itself onto her lips.

When Vivian stepped foot into Banchory, she did so as herself. Marceaux’s garb charmed to fit her body. Her maniacal voice behind the silver mask. Her bloodlust oozing from the seams. Would the Dark Lord reprimand her himself? Perhaps. She cared little about appearances now. Vivian Travers only desired to watch life drain from the eyes of innocents. If only Marceaux could see her now; the caged bird fallen from her ivory tower. 

“Piss yourself yet, little prince?” Merlin, she loved seeing souls squirm. 

[cassiusmulcibermock-blog]

Prior Incantato (FT. anyone)

THREE LETTERS NEVER SENT.

To Walburga Black (unsent and unfinished)

Please accept my most sincere condolences on the death of your son, Regulus, who I was fortunate enough to call a friend. I miss him everyday. I am so sorry for your loss. I know how much he meant to you…and indeed to all of us. He was the best of us. even the best get cold feet. This letter will likely be of little comfort to you during your time of grief but Regulus was a dear friend of mine I am proud to call him that and as such I wished to offer you any comfort or aid that you might require during this time, just as I know he would have done for my own mother. I’m sorry I couldn’t help him.

To Thorfinn Rowle (unsent and unfinished)

I think I’ve decided being in love is redundant social construct, the expectation of which is profoundly unhelpful when considering a long term relationship. 

Case 1.  My Parents. Married for love. mother ended up with a list of lovers longer than my champagne bill and my father ended up in an early grave. FAILURE

Case 2. Your Parents - I’m joking, I’m joking. Calm down.

Case 3. Rodolphus and Bella. Incredibly poorly suited but married nonetheless because of personal inclination (admiration, lust, stupidity etc.) - FAILURE

Case 4. Potter and his mudblood. ever so in love, hopelessly devoted to each other (you know the spiel - snape whinged about it often enough) but still ultimately fell apart - FAILURE

Case 5. Me and … 

TO CORBAN YAXLEY (unsent and unfinished)

I’m bored of all this waiting, I swear every other word out of Rodolphus’s mouth is patience, patience, patience…

TO ALECTO CARROW (sent)

Is it arson if I want to set my own house on fire?

Also will you help?

[onebyonerp-blog]

Liminal spaces. 20

hospital waiting rooms 


There is no hospital after the battle. No real one, anyway. Just long stretches of hallway and rubble that–there’s a hand, there, Regulus sees it and hesitates, just a moment. It’s small, maybe a fifth year’s, but too gray to really be anything…

He steps over it. 

It feels strange, this hall. Just an hour ago it was still booming with shouting, the stink of battle magic and blood. He can still feel it even though he knows, he knows he is alone. 

All the windows have been blown out. Glass crunches and crackles under his feet. If he turned around he would start to hear Great Hall in less then three halls. It’s quiet here, though. Quiet and calm. It should make Regulus feel better. Hadn’t he spent the past decade living every bad librarian stereotype?

He hated noise, which is why when someone stood him in a corner of the Great Hall and said, wait here, you idiot–he’d left. The only qualified mediwitch had her hands full of guts and the rest were children. Children.

Hadn’t they been children the last time? Only the battles didn’t touch Hogwarts. They zipped along alleyways in muggle London or bloodied houses…everywhere. 

Hogwarts was supposed to be safe. The hand behind him was dressed in glitter and chewed from anxiety.