#c.ophelia

[reginreverie-blog]

Talk About Happy Things

@opheliaslwyn

(TITLE from : Come, let us have some tea and continue to talk about happy things. -Chaim Potok)

“Sirius spoke to me at the festival.” Regulus said over tea--literally. He had sat there, mussing with the table pieces, head in his left hand, right hand plucking about where the dessert forks went with a single mindedness that likely crossed the boarder into obsessiveness. His head had wobbled a few times, almost dozing, and nearly tipped into the steaming cup.

When he finished with that, half dozing, he’d get into refolding the cloth napkins by hand. Then sorting the sugar cubes.

If their conversation lasted that long--sometimes it didn’t.

“He thought I was someone he knew, at first.” He added, because it seemed important to the propriety of any conversations with or about his no-longer-brother. “Actually that happened a lot at the festival. Being the wrong person.”

He straightened a bit, reaching for one of the napkins--opening it, folding it, opening, refolding it. It was easier to do this then to look up and straight at Ophelia or pretend to look at her by looking just shy of her. “I don’t think he enjoyed it.”

[reginreverie-blog]

👫

Regulus does not remember their first meeting. He’d deny it entirely if it was ever mentioned, too, because he likes to at least pretend that he has always embodied some sort of… well, not propriety but some sort of decorum. Even childish decorum. Barrelling into Ophelia Selwyn at the ripe old age of 3 or 4 with a plate of pilfered sweets (likely thanks to Sirius or some cousin) embodies nothing but a sticky mess and probable tears.

Regulus would equally not admit to the fact he was a little relieved to see Ophelia in his house–and later hanging out more with the Slytherin students. He had been certain he’d be in Slytherin himself and when he wasn’t, when he was certain he’d be receiving a howler himself the very next morning (his mother would know somehow)–there was Ophelia. Who was … good. Not like Bellatrix, of course, or Narcissa but… a symbol if nothing else. It wasn’t as though he’d gotten into Hufflepuff or Gryffindor–now that would have been a nightmare!

Regulus accidentally dreamwalked into her dreams exactly once and it startled him so much he tore down the sky by accident and left soon after. Sleepwalking in the Ravenclaw common room meetings were far more common.

While Regulus does not work for the Ministry of Magic he is often found in the Ministry Library. This isn’t exactly convenient to the Oblivator’s offices but its comparatively close–more then reasonable distance to decide to meet up for tea or lunch or a mild frustration (if you ask Regulus, anyway)

[admirerxproyect-blog]

Apreciada, Ophelia:

Lamento mucho si te dejo a ciegas, pero no puedo aclararte nada concreto porque sino adivinar quién soy sería demasiado fácil. Solo confórmate con tener ese poema y guárdalo hasta que un día te deje una dirección y te pida que lo lleves. Entonces ahí aseguro que aclararé todas tus dudas. Mientras, mejor pasemos a las preguntas:

♣ ¿Cuáles son tus expectativas a futuro? ♣ ¿Cuál ha sido tu peor experiencia? ♣ ¿Cuál es tu mayor sueño?

Son tres preguntas bastantes sencillas, pero que me servirán para entenderte un poco más y cambiar el concepto que tengo de ti.

Cordialmente, Príncipe Encantado.

[ @opheliahbu ]

[admirerxproyect-blog]

Para Ophelia:

Nos dijimos adiós con un cappuccino ya frío en la mesa que nos vio juntos aquellos (últimos) minutos. Pero, como solemos volver por otro café al día siguiente, también acostumbramos regresar a los brazos de nuestra persona favorita. Al menos no dejamos de estar de acuerdo en algo: Remojar chocolate en un café caliente siempre saca las más sinceras sonrisas, a las que le siguen (tus) besos.

Siento que esto se aplica a ti, a mí y a nosotros en general. Creo que necesito conocerte un poco más para poder entenderte. ¿Qué tal si empezamos ahora? No me hagas pensar que perdí mi valioso tiempo buscando un poema que ni siquiera sé de quién es.

Príncipe encantado.

[ @opheliahbu ]

[louiiis]

Reaching up with his free hand, he pushed his fringe further up his forehead, basking in the warmth of the sunlight. The glass in his hand felt chilled against his heated flesh, and the lightest breeze bathed over his skin soothingly. He was sitting back on one of the deck chairs by the pool of his rented home, one earbud streaming music into his ear, while the other was attached to his friend’s. It felt weird to be clothed when the sun felt so inviting, but in Ophelia’s company he couldn’t risk his trunks riding up enough to expose the footprints of his self-destructive tendencies. “So,” He said, breaking the silence and waiting for the brunette to lift her head from the book she was reading. He took a sip of his mojito. It was 17:19PM, as good a time as any to get charmingly inebriated. “My first complaint about this place is the lack of anyone worth looking at. Besides you of course. How was your road trip with wannabe James Dean?” { @riosophelia }