a dangerous voice @thymelicus - Tumblr Blog

ofxdedalus:

Having slipped away from Fleur’s family, Dedalus found himself gravitating to the festival’s bar. It was far too early for anything strong, but a glass of elderflower cordial certainly wouldn’t go amiss on the unseasonably warm spring day. Thanking the bartender as they passed the glass to him, he turned in surprise at the voice. “Are you sure?” He asked, his brow furrowing slightly. “That’s, uh, very kind of you.”

Dedalus stared at the dark haired man, noting something familiar in his face and the way he carried himself. But just where did Dedalus know him from? This was never something that he excelled at. He had met so many different people in so many different places. He offered the many a sheepish smile before taking a sip of his drink. “I’m really sorry, but do I know you?”

His head shook. “Merlin, that’s really awful, isn’t it? It’s just… you seem familiar.” He could just hear his mother’s voice in his ear, berating him for being rude. But it was easier than puzzling it out on his own, and potentially less embarrassing than pretending as if he knew the man.

“You’re more than welcome. Kindness is sometimes too rare in this world.” There was something awfully familiar about the man, Walden’s brain working overtime to figure out who he was. He remembered people, it was one of the things he was good at, and it was driving him a little bit crazy that he hadn’t immediately placed the man.

It clicked as the man kept speaking, a wry smile curving Walden’s lips as he finally recognised the other. “I could be offended, Dedalus, but I’ll take it as a sign that I’ve just become infinitely more handsome since our time at school.” He chuckled, taking a sip of his drink.

“Walden. Macnair. I’ll confess to not knowing you’d returned to the country. Being abroad seems to have suited you.” It was rare that he considered anyone an old friend. Normally he used people and discarded them in reasonably quick succession. Dedalus had been a companion for much of Walden’s school years, and he had left the country before really becoming of any use. It was almost nice, to look at someone and not immediately have a way to use them.

#( walden & dedalus. )#( walden & dedalus; 001. )#( location; the ostara festival. )#( date; 200303. )

inhereditare

By popular demand, our first ✨ bi-weekly meme ✨

😀 - What is your muse’s favorite emoji? 🏋️ - Does your muse even lift? Do they work out at all? 🤔 - If your muse’s used the internet, what would their Google search history look like? 🐈 - How does your muse hold a cat? Do they hold it like a baby, or as far away from their person as possible? 🐕 - Would your muse try to lift a big dog to make them feel like a small dog? 👨‍🍳 - Would your muse make pudding at 3AM because they’ve lost control of their life? 🦉- How does your muse write? Do they use drawings, leave mistakes in, use shorthand or write everything out perfectly? 💔 - How often does your muse lose their wand? 👶 - Does your muse like babies, or do they have a strong urge yeet/kick/punch one? 🍍 - Does your muse like pineapple on pizza? If not, what’s the weirdest topping they like? 👔 - Does your muse know how to tie a tie? How did they learn? 👊 - Would your muse fight someone in a Denny’s parking lot?

#( memes. )

ofpercival:

Percy was… tired.

As much as he enjoyed the festival for what it was – connecting with those who would be useful in the future – he had the unfortunate pleasure of reconnecting with his siblings as well. He spent years with as little contact with them as possible – partially his own doing, partially the doing of his entire family – but he could never quite get away from them like he wished he could.

The Ostara Festival didn’t offer the respite he’d been looking for from his family ( his spat with Charlie a few weeks earlier still ringing clear in his mind ), but at least it had food and drinks that he could help himself to. Percy all but dragged himself to the bar, making sure he at least looked more presentable than he felt in his posture and neutral facial expression until he saw who was next to him. Walden – perhaps one of the few people he’d grant the title of friend, if he didn’t know any better.

“Feel free to keep them coming,” he said tiredly, offering him a tight smile and sitting himself firmly down in the barstool. “Though I’d like to think this is a little more than festival kindness. Bored of the party already?”

Walden was almost proud of the man Percy had become, the gentle whispers and persuasion that must have seemed almost seductive to the younger man. It was the kind of project that Walden hadn’t been able to through himself into in a long while and to see the results blossoming so beautifully was cathartic.

Of course, it was all helped along by how obnoxious Percy seemed to find his own family. Walden knew the role he had been given in Percy’s mind and so felt himself slip into it with ease.

“You heard the man.” He spoke briefly to the bartender before putting his focus back on Percy. His expression was almost sympathetic as he shrugged his shoulders. “It’s useful. It doesn’t mean I find it particularly stimulating. How has it been for you? I’ve seen a few of the other Weasleys. I trust they haven’t caused you too much disquiet?”

#( walden & percy. )#( walden & percy; 001. )#( location; the ostara festival. )#( date; 200303. )

The Ostara Festival March 20th, 2003

open

There was no way that Walden would ever have passed up the opportunity to attend the Ostara festival. Not only was it a rare insight into the mind of a man whose veneer of pleasantry wasn’t quite shiny enough to fool Walden, but it was also a gathering of some of the most self-important people around. The things he could overhear, the silent suggestions he could place in people’s minds. It was a golden opportunity.

In that moment, however, he was simply standing at the bar and observing. He needed to pace himself after all. Identify those who would be most productive for him to spin his web around. Perhaps there would even be time for a little fun as well.

The potential for fun seemed determined to come to him as he identified the person who had just arrived at the bar. He waited for them to make their order before shooting an easy smile at them and making a brief signal to the bartender. “Please, let me pay for that. Call it a random act of festival kindness.”