Discover Top Posts Tagged with #rsrevan

who: @rsrevan where: rosier manor, the library when: evening

There had always been something about the library that felt like home. The high shelves and the stacks upon stacks of books that were piling up in areas used more often as well as the rays of sunshine during the day and coziness of a crackling fire within the darker and colder nights, it all had come to be something Leta Rosier treasured rather a lot. Now, she loved her atelier, but something about the hall of knowledge within the manor left to them – no, to her brother, by their parents, it held her attention and kept her focused. It was home, if a room could be that.

Many a night or evening had the witch found her brother, her twin, working away at one of the many tables with books surrounding him. Every now and then a book would whiz past on its way toward the wizard in question or away and back onto whatever shelf it had come from. “It’s been a while since I’ve found you hiding in here.” Leta’s voice rang over, letting the echo of the room carry it before she stepped closer. “Not that I’m accusing you of hiding.” She wasn’t. For the most part it was simple curiosity.

#threads;; leta #threads;; evan #threads;; leta & evan 004 #rsrevan #with words sharp as daggers and soft as feathers;; threads leta

who: @rsrevan where: zabini & travers wedding, fulham palace when: during the festivities

Each word had hit her like a slap to the face. Even minutes after he'd left they still echoed in her ears, in her mind. There was anger and frustration. Wasn't she allowed to be human? To desire anything? No, even when she dared to care about something, or someone, the witch had to end up sharing it. A test, if that was what he wanted it to be, the blonde wasn't all too sure what to make of it. For a moment she stood, unsure if the stares she felt were truly there or simply figments of her imagination. The embarrassment hit deep, not that she cared to admit it. Finally, her feet moved, carried her through the event area until finally Leta had spotted a face that didn't make her want to hide.

It wasn't even a question when she reached out, without so much as a word looked at her brother and took the drink right out of his hands only to down part of its contents. "I think this will be the first wedding I leave early. Don't ask, convention be dammed." The sting of the drink did help, soothing the bitterness she felt. What was the point, anyway?

#threads;; evan #threads;; leta #threads;; leta & evan 003 #rsrevan #zabini x travers wedding;;#with words sharp as daggers and soft as feathers;; threads leta

who: @rsrevan where: rosier manor when: late evening

A day that had started out within the atelier and yet ended with her out all day, the witch had been rushing about to sort some matters that simply couldn't wait. Coming home to be informed by one of the elves that her brother was home, for once a convenient timing, the blonde couldn't help herself but look for him. When she finally spotted the other, a smirk on her lips she made her way into the library with nonchalance.

Finally she whirled around, having enough of the play-pretend. "Couldn't have given me any more warning about the engagement before the wedding?" Leta glanced at her brother, a mix of a huff and an amused chuckle lacing her voice. She didn't mind, not one bit. In fact, she was glad her twin had finally found someone he felt he could commit to. "I do not mind. I am happy for you, honestly. Alara is wonderful, in fact, a perfect choice, but the questions...," She trailed off, shaking her head at the memory. "Tell me you had to deal with equally as many questions!"

#threads;; evan #threads;; leta #threads;; leta & evan 002 #rsrevan #with words sharp as daggers and soft as feathers;; threads leta #thought i'd toss you the thing we kind of talked about;;#the long awaited catching up of siblings;;

who: @rsrevan where: their manor, library when: late evening/early night thread counter: 001

Days could be long and drawn out, could last until the late hours of the night if one wasn’t careful. Despite all that Leta had come to love her work at Madam Malkin, enjoyed having a say in what various of their social circles would wear. In fact, the mere idea of the control hidden within each thread, each square of elegant fabric; there was far too much joy in that. For the last ten minutes she’d been searching the manor for her brother, wondered just where he’d hidden himself away when finally, she got lucky in the library. A cough, her presence announced as she made her way over to him. Delicate fingers placed a box down. “There you are. Are you hiding or is this entirely coincidental?” Leta pushed the box toward him; the suit she’d promised to finish. Certainly, one of the nicer pieces she’d designed in his name.

“The customers were dreadful today. Well, most of them anyway.” A few too many of the muggleborn kind, ready to shop for their Hogwarts robes and in between the adults that seemed to lack any form of social etiquette. No blame could be spoken. The world they came from simply was too different for them to grasp the basics. “Please tell me your day’s been nicer.” No mistake was to be made. When the word nicer was used she hardly meant a day full of the lushest pleasantries, no. She merely hoped her twin to have walked through more interesting chaos than a matter of which fabric to use for a new robe; a robe that would be wasted on the wrong person.

#threads;; leta #threads;; evan #with words sharp as daggers and soft as feathers;; threads leta #rsrevan

who: @rsrevan where: the white wyvern when: late evening/early night thread counter: 001

Few nights were spent walking down the path of Knockturn Alley. Even fewer within the White Wyvern. Beatrice lacked not in access to taverns and pubs. Not with her sister practically owning the Three Broomsticks as well as her being on good terms with Tom from the Leaky Cauldron. No, it was darker nights that called for the so-called walk of shame toward the tavern usually frequented by the darkest of characters. The Gryffindor did not fit in, not for the most part, but it was the best place one could go if one simply needed to forget; to get distracted from the daily shenanigans that life had a habit of throwing one’s way. Funny enough it was also the one place where, in her experience, the least talk of the war raging on in the world could be heard. It seemed almost too perfect to be true and yet its very existence was proof of just that. There was a place equivalent to the forgetfulness draught found in certain potioneer’s shops.

Beatrice found herself a cozy spot by the bar, if one did dare call it that in a place like the White Wyvern. No time was wasted as she ordered whatever strongest drink the bartender had to offer. Her mind was racing with thoughts of the previous night, the early morning hours filled with regret. There was too much she needed to forget; the leave behind, to be buried underneath layers upon layers of potentially bad decisions. Bea was no saint. Had never claimed to be but this had hit her harder than she cared to admit. Eventually she’d find someone to confide in but until then she’d rather avoid the whole thing all together.

It wasn’t until the drink was finally placed in front of her that the brunette allowed her eyes to roam, to scan the crowd she’d landed herself in middle of. Not that it mattered. The choice was made, and no regrets were felt. Well, not about the choice of drink or establishment either way. Finally, her eyes landed on a face that was familiar. More than familiar truthfully. “Evan, hey. I didn’t see you there.” Somehow, she’d managed to overlook the one in question entirely.

#threads;; bea #threads;; evan #threads;; bea & evan 001 #with the roar of a lion;; threads #rsrevan