Location: Flourish and Blotts
Date: 20.3.2018
Time: 3pm
With: @august-infandum
It felt weird being back in this bookstore. Although Marlene enjoyed reading, she didn’t usually come to Flourish and Blotts to get her books but rather to some of the muggle book stores around London. She enjoyed reading muggle literature, getting to know their culture, their view on life from any perspective she could find. Thus, she hadn’t been back inside this particular book store since her Hogwarts days and it made her feel weirdly nostalgic.
Now, she was only in here for a very specific reason only. With everything that had happened recently, Marlene had realized she needed to educate herself more on wizarding history as well. To make her argument compelling, to really be able to found her beliefs on facts and their society’s history, she needed to know it, learn it. And so Marlene planned to get as many magical history books as she could find. At the moment, she was already carrying five under her right arm.
Ludo aun no sabía bien como había acabado en aquella reunión con varias de las familias mas importantes así como otros nombres destacados en la comunidad, especialmente porque no era el mejor especimen de su familia, pero al menos tenía cierta fama por el Quidditch. Como era de esperarse el chico solo estaba bebiendo y buscando una nueva copa cuando se topo con Rockwood platicando con otra persona oculta por una capucha —Oh habitación equivocada— expresó y entonces se fijo en las marcas del brazo de ambas personas —Ese tatuaje debió doler— estaba ebrio y por ende no reconcía la marca y tampoco le importaba —¿que es sobre una hermandad o algo?—
i know that's something's wrong and i'm the one accused || dawseo || fb
@acciogus
Os últimos tempos não estavam sendo nada fáceis para o Dawson, especialmente porque ele haveria descoberto da pior maneira que haveria errado em confiar em alguém que julgava ser um verdadeiro anjo. Ele haveria confiado demais em alguém que acabara por quebrar totalmente sua confiança. E por conta de ter medo em despedaçar o coração de alguém, ele acabara deixando sua felicidade sumir por entre seus dedos. Idiota. Sem qualquer dúvida que o corvino o era, mas o que poderia ele fazer quando sua vida parecia ter tomado um rumo totalmente...errado e diferente do que ele queria? O que poderia ele fazer se seu coração parecia ter parado? Era errado se deixar levar tanto pelos seus sentimentos e pelas suas emoções, contudo Kwan sabia que muitas vezes era necessário tal coisa.
Um suspiro se soltou por entre seus lábios assim que o menino saiu de sua última aula naquele dia. Ele caminhou pelos corredores. Seu rosto estava cabisbaixo, especialmente porque o menino de cabelos azulados parecia ter perdido todo seu brilho. E a verdade era que ele haveria mesmo perdido seu brilho. Completamente distraído o garoto chocou contra um de seus melhores. Um falso sorriso tingiu seus lábios. --- “ E aí, puto? Me perdoa...não te machuquei, né? “ --- era notável na voz do corvino que ele não estava bem, especialmente para o Seo que o conhecia perfeitamente bem.
It had always been simple - too simple - to let go of the restraint that tethered him and give in to urges that he had been told were wrong. As a child Cygnus had been unable to differentiate between good and bad, and his father had not uttered a word about the line between them. Some days he wondered if the elder man had even realized there was a difference and just hadn’t cared, but he never concerned himself too much with it. Growing up he had begun to understand that he was two people, a socialite and a demon, a god above all others, whose sole purpose was to punish, and rule, and reign.
At some point in his life he had chosen to become a creature of darkness without worry of consequences. The Black family was immensely wealthy, he was aware that his father had paid off anyone willing to take their weight in gold, and he planned to do the same. A blind eye, a turned head - that was all they needed. And thus far it had worked for Cygnus as well, though the war was heating up and there were less men who cared for money when their world was falling apart. It was only a matter of time before they turned their noses up at his galleons. That would be Walburga’s problem, though, and he didn’t much care what trouble she found herself in.
Having no male heir had made Cygnus a desperate man, which was how he had found Augustus and had offered (pushed, really) to teach him what information he had learned. There was something about the man that had struck him as familiar, though he still couldn’t put his finger on it, and after a few sessions he decided that the younger man was holding back. It quickly became a desire to see him allow the demon to step forward, to allow himself to fully accept the monster inside, as Cygnus had. And because of that, he found himself waiting in an alley for Augusts to arrive, hoping his letter had arrived with the explicit details to show up with a mask and nondescript clothing.
“You’ve made it.” He announced from under the heavy hood of his cloak, hearing footsteps not far off, hoping it was who he was expecting and not some stranger.
The Night is Still Young (and so are we) || Lola, Ade & Gus
Lola was buzzing with excitement. This little soiree was going to be so much fun! She had set up a bunch of pillows around the coffee table so that they could just sit on the floor together and talk. She hadn’t just hung out like this in awhile. She walked over to the mini fridge and took out the bottle of whisky and vodka she’d snagged from Giovanni and Garrett’s room. It had been stupidly easy to get the alcohol. They really shouldn’t have left the door unlocked — well, Giovanni shouldn’t have, since Garrett wasn’t even around to lock or unlock the door. She was sure they wouldn’t miss the bottles, and if they did, well... Lola didn’t really care. Now all that was missing were the twins.
Santana's body was draped across her bed. Panties the only thing to clad her body. She contemplated for a moment sending Augustus's a video of her saying those three words, but to put clothes on was such work. So instead she rang him, intending on getting his voicemail. When she thought she heard the click, she cleared her voice to began to let the smooth seduction leave her lips.
Santana: I lo---
The event was interrupted by Augustus's voice.
Santana: Augustus! I was sending you your voice mail!
Notes: Lucius and Augustus engage in a less-than-friendly confrontation during the 1968 school term at Hogwarts, which was surely not the first and absolutely not the last.
Extra Notes: As will always be the case, threading isn't necessary at all and it just my preferred format. Also, feel free to improvise the actual date for background purposes!
Lucius Malfoy
For over two years at present, Lucius had found himself comfortably and pleased with the lovely place that was the Slytherin common room. He found it to be a truly magnificent place that was not only representative of the history of the House, but also representative of its spirit. It wasn’t gaudy in the slightest, which was something he had come to half expect from the school, and it was actually inviting with its darkness and elegant decor. Nothing ever compared to the manor he called home, though, which was due to not only excellent decorative tastes on his family’s part, but also to the fact that he wasn’t the in the business of “yours over mine,” and never would be.
So far, the term had been simple enough. Classes were simple business, even with the added electives that were supposedly such a treat for Third year students. Lucius didn’t find any of it to be much specialty, especially since he was well acquainted with enough of it through reading and observing over the years. He wouldn’t necessarily have pegged himself with the word studious, but he did know that diligence in studies carried over in other endeavors, and furthermore, that intelligence was by far the best tool to use for anything. ‘How better to know,’ he mused from time to time. ‘than by taking the time to learn?’
This evening, Lucius chose to spend his time there in the beloved common room, both alone in his thoughts and also speaking with the occasional person who sat down nearby. At present, the high backed chair to his right happened to be empty, and the common room as a whole was more silent, more empty that it had been earlier. Lucius was writing in a small book, which was a gift from his mother for his thoughts, and pondering inconsequential thoughts that occurred to him with each pause of his quill. Really, the only gist to be found in his writing was that he disliked several people, outright hated others, and was developing a strange apathy to those who he had found to be useful in the past two school terms. By now, there was nearly solidified hierarchy within his own year, and he was happy to conclude that he had made his way quite far up, all the way to the point in which discerning who was who became nearly impossible. That was, unfortunately, the downfall of schoolyard politics. One could never be certain of their standing once they reached the top platform. That was what had caused him to learn a very special lesson just a year previously, and that lesson was that the best battles were waged and maintained on all sides.
‘The best gardener is able to reap the fruits of an entire grounds,’ he wrote in the elegant script that his father had strictly forced him to conform to at an early age. ‘And he does this because he understands that every portion must be tended to year round, whether it suits him initially or not.’ Notes such as these made up the majority of his book’s content, with the remainder being blank pages. While he didn’t necessarily like writing, he didn’t mind sharing his thoughts with himself in cryptic context. It allowed some freedom he might not otherwise get, seeing as the idiots he considered acquaintances were just that - idiots who didn’t understand much outside of the schoolyard troubles that, as a child raised in cold upper class society, were below the bottom line for Lucius.
He dotted the end of the sentence with a period and then flipped the page. However, along with the ruffling of the paper, he heard the sound of someone moving, and so he looked up to see just who might be up and about. It had escaped his notice just how late it had gotten, being not quite eight but close enough to lead him to think someone might be headed off to bed. In the darkness of the common room, away from his own light, he spotted that someone was in fact moving around, but not to bed it appeared. Internally, he huffed, while his previously neutral expression shifted to one of distinct displeasure.
