desecration

Come let us march against the powers of heaven / And set black streamers against the firmament / To signify the slaughter of the gods

[mmexmulciber-blog]

Afternoon Tea | William & Andromeda

@williammulciber

The Mulciber Residence

Andie wanted to be anywhere but home at the moment - even her childhood home would be preferable to the Mulciber residence. She’d spent as much time as possible in her private parlor but she had to emerge eventually. It would be too suspicious if she was never around him, after all, and she didn’t want to appear totally uninterested in her husband. Even if she was. Standing with a sigh, she glanced into the mirror to assure herself that her hair still looked tidy and her dress was neat. Once she looked presentable, she took a breath and let Andromeda Mulciber settle on her.

Making her way toward his office, she rapped lightly on the door and peeked inside with her most polite smile. “I was going to ring for tea, darling, if you’d like to join me.” She hated this part she had to play, but it helped to think of it like a part. She could handle him far more easily when she pretended he was just another character in a terribly written play or story.

[williammulciber-blog]

William had begun his day as he always did, with two cups of stark Earl Grey. Then, business as usual -- the day became an ever-shifting stage full of players. The servants, some clients, and now, hearing the knock on the door -- the servant again? He sighed, sliding sensitive papers away -- one could never be too careful, ready to say, “I’m not expecting any more visitors today --” for it couldn’t be Mary, after all, she was on a brief holiday; alas, it was his wife. Instantly the mask of uxoriousness was restored, behind which sat a barely erred individual. Andromeda fancied herself the chained domestic, like the agency-less woman of the same name of myth. He, a treacherous sea monster? William felt guffawing at the sheer ludicrousness of the thought; he wasn’t malicious or dastardly or blood-thirsty, no, he was as neutral as Death itself.

William had to allow that Andromeda was not such a bad wife, he just wished she would try a little less hard; she was getting a little old for girlish earnestness. Yes, it was all well and good that she acknowledged that Mary was his consort without raising any qualms, it was just that they seemed to be getting along rather too well. William couldn’t help but just to catch a whiff of conspiracy in it. Was it so terrible of him, to have such doubts? Stowing away of thoughts of her, looking up once again at his wife he said, “You caught me at the just right time, Andromeda. Let’s.” They might as well be neighbors rather than a married couple, for how often they saw each other. Rising, he put a hand against the small of her back from a respectable distance, urging her to start toward the parlor.

[rebeldaffodil]

Uninvited In-Laws | Narcissa & William

[williammulciber-blog]

rebeldaffodil:

Narcissa shifted in her chair, leaning back so that she could look up at William from beneath her eyelashes without having to crane her neck; she could have stood or, more appropriately, he could have hurried to sit – but their relationship was not one that was built on pleasant propriety and so instead, they spoke as they were. “As you say,” she retorted promptly, “I am disappointed. But who wouldn’t be, to find that fate has played such a cruel trick as to swap my dearest sister out for you…my dearest second-favorite brother-in-law?”

Of course, she only had two brothers-in-law, which was really one-and-a-half more brothers-in-law than Narcissa felt she needed; even Bellatrix’s marriage had not been one which had caused her much rejoicing, amiable as Bella had seemed about the whole idea, and Andromeda’s was something else altogether. Given that caveat, Narcissa felt that even forced civility was more than William Mulciber deserved – although since her mother felt differently, she made a point to be less forced about it when there were other people around – and if he was half as clever a fellow as he claimed to be, he ought to know exactly why she treated him the way she did. Given that he returned that attitude right back, she had a feeling he understood perfectly, although she had never discussed the matter with him; that would have been far too intimate a conversation for her tastes.

“You look tired,” Narcissa continued, transparently false concern dripping from her words like syrup, “difficult day?” He didn’t, actually; or maybe he did; Narcissa did not as a rule pay enough attention to William Mulciber’s state of being to take much notice of vagaries in his appearance. But accusing him of looking tired was a fine line from accusing him of looking bad, with just enough pretended-care that it wasn’t outright rude; only mostly rude. Well in keeping with their usual back-and-forth.

She uncrossed and recrossed her legs, neatly smoothing her skirts down across her knees, and settled back further in the plush cushion of her chair, almost daring him to make some excuse to cut their conversation short and bid her on her way. While making a quick exit from his odious presence was precisely what she would have chosen to do if given her druthers, Narcissa wasn’t prepared to do so as long as William seemed more inconvenienced by her being here than she was. She wasn’t sure yet which of them was at the disadvantage; he might have finished his plans for the afternoon and be in the mood for a bit of banter, for all she knew; but she was going to drag this little tête-à-tête out until she determined which of them was at more of a loss. Petty, yes, but nobody had ever made the mistake of trying to convince Narcissa that a lady shouldn’t be petty. There was a reason the word was only one letter removed from pretty, after all!

He considered Narcissa, sitting down in an armchair across from her. Her dislike for him was evident, but rarely did it have an occasion to be showcased in such a private arena. William, on the other hand, was rather indifferent towards her -- she was frivolous, spoiled, everything you would expect from the youngest daughter of a trading tycoon. It was usually best to humor her, as they both had things to gain from at least feigning amicability. “Second favorite,” He said slowly and scathingly. “My, my, Narcissa, what has Rodolphus done to earn your favor?” 

William couldn’t fathom why Narcissa held him in so much disdain. Sure, the Black were an isolationist brood, and the only time they truly extended their tendrils into the outer firmaments was through marriage; Narcissa, however, was insufferably against him. He was used to enemies, being a Mulciber wasn’t without its drawbacks and one didn’t survive long in this world without instinctual awareness. But what bothered him the most is that Narcissa wasn’t formidable, she wasn’t like the thugs in his boarding school days, she wasn’t formidable or armed with anything besides words; no, she was a woman, and a non-threatening one at that -- she was like gnat, more annoying for her lack of significance. What irritated him anymore is that she kept feeding the illusion that she had any real agency, participating in petty causes like wixen rights -- wixen were all well and good when kept under a strict eye, like he did Mary, or in a place of power to deem it unnecessary -- but having wixen of all classes and colors freedom to brandish a wand location irrelevant? It had the feelings of a scandal, and he felt surprise that Druella allowed her daughter to delve into such things.

Narcissa’s words were brazen, offensive: You look tired. Fortunately, he was very careful with his temper; rarely did it go out out of check. Inclining his head at her, he flashed her a small smile ---

“I don’t want to trouble a lady like yourself with such petty daily occurrences. Thank you for your concern, however.” William said. They had a habit of exchanging barbs, as if they were equals -- just another necessary farce, ludicrous as it was. Like it or not, though, Andromeda had brought a whole new sphere into his life, one he had long awaited, had expected to composed mostly of matters regarding the Tibicena Line, not humoring his younger sister-in-law. Looking at her now, he was hit with the epiphany that any women left too long unmarried were bound to be troublesome. Druella had yet -- to his knowledge at least -- set up a betrothal for the last remaining vestige of Black soil. Pity, really -- she was a daffodil, but flowers only bloomed for so long.

[rebeldaffodil]

Uninvited In-Laws | Narcissa & William

Narcissa caught herself drumming her nails on the armrest of her chair and quickly drew her hand back, wrinkling her nose in distaste at the uncouth gesture. She laced her fingers together in her lap instead, to avoid an absent resumption of the gesture when her attention inevitably wandered again. Ordinarily a very cultured, poised young lady, waiting brought out Cissy’s worst habits – at least according to her mother, who was always trying to counsel more patience in her younger daughter.

It wasn’t even that she was an impatient person, per se; she just hated when other people kept her waiting. It was rude and she deserved better, that was all – even when the person making her wait was her sister.

The parlor of the Mulciber house was a pleasant place to wait, at least…or would have been pleasant, had it belonged to anyone else. But Narcissa was not keen on her sister’s husband, and so any room in his home had a habit of setting her teeth slightly on edge; she detested the whole place on principle as the cage that held her sister prisoner within the chains of unwanted matrimony. The whole house could have been decorated in daffodils – Cissy’s favorite flowers, of course – and she still would have found something to complain about. In the case of this pretty parlor, it was the drapes: she thought they were badly folded and much too heavy a material for the delicate windows they framed.

She had her attention fixed through narrow, unhappy eyes on the offending fabric, as though she might be contemplating setting them on fire with nothing but a glare – which as a secret wix, she could do, at least if she threw in the right sort of incantation too – and so when the room’s doorknob turned with a click, she she was facing the wrong way to see the door swing open. Turning with a smile, she was already speaking – playfully chiding her sister, “What were you doing, curling your hair one strand at a time?”– before her gaze settled on the well-dressed, but decidedly unfeminine and unfamilial, figure walking in.

Her nose wrinkled again, much worse this time. “William,” she said, the word dull with disappointment but little surprise; Narcissa had known that Andromeda would never have left her cooling her heels this long, if she had been home. She ought to have left ten minutes ago – but she had refused to accept the unwelcome reality, and now she was faced with the resulting consequences. “How delightful to see you,” she continued, making no effort to match her tone to her words. “But surely your maid told you that it was your wife whose company I was seeking? Or would such a message be beyond the poor empty-headed creature’s capabilities?”

[williammulciber-blog]

The aftermath of the “salamander incident” -- as it would be known in the annals to come, it had certainly merited a place there -- had created far more work for William than he was used to. He had spent the majority of the day alternating between meeting face-to-face with stakeholders to try to remedy their anxiety or penning letters in response to frenzied questions. Although his official title in the Tibicena Line didn’t denote it, William had a great measure of responsibility upon his broad shoulders; he was expected to be the guiding hand for innumerable stakeholders and their intimate clientele.

William had had his lunch brought to his office - mutton accompanied by a cup of upright black tea, and consumed it in silence. When one of the servants came in to notify him that Mrs. Mulciber had gone out, citing some trivial excuse ( who knew, the woman had a plethora of ready-made errands or friends he didn’t know to visit, not that he minded, she always returned with a placid kiss on the cheek ), he barely noticed. An hour later he had an appointment with an advocate for the abolishment of Puffskein racing -- feigning close attention, inwardly he yearned for some time alone so he could practice some Transfiguration, the incantations for which he had found in an old tome he had paid a mighty sum for. Hurriedly, he signed the man’s petition and certificate of endorsement; William Mulciber’s name would under on their morbid photographs of overworked, underfed Puffskeins -- "HE REFUTES SUCH ACTS. YOU SHOULD TOO.”

What he did notice, however, was the stuttering servant girl announcing Narcissa’s Black arrival in the parlor. “Should I send her away, sir?” Florence -- Amelia -- whatever-her-name was asked anxiously, after stating it was Andromeda whom his sister-in-law sought. “No, no -- I’ll be down soon.” William said, waving a dismissive hand. Smiling as he left, he knew exactly what he would do. Narcissa and him had no great liking for each other -- one could even venture to say they had a sort of mutual enmity. The girl seemed to entertain the idea he had somehow stole her sister away, like some dastard in a children’s fairytale. No, these times weren’t so primitive as that -- Andromeda had made her choice, with some coercion, mayhap, but made it all the same. 

William was a practical man, though -- his theatrics were sparse, and carefully positioned. This was one of those times. So, he signed some more letters, read some more, wrote some more. William’s watch ticked away, signaling the inevitable propulsion that was Time; how such things could be put to use in situations such as this. He then stared out of the window for some moments, noting with interest a goose chasing another bird.

At long last, he arose and made his way down to the parlor, the sound of his leather shoes against the stairs a vacant, nihilist pound. Opening the door to the parlor, he noted with some amusement the peculiar, quite unflattering expression upon her face. William chuckled at the hair-curling comment, ludicrous, really, hadn’t the Black daughter heard his heavy footsteps from outside the parlor? Disappointing indeed. “Indeed, William, not Andromeda. I see you’re not bothering to hide your disappointment --” Which was refreshing, in all honesty, as much as it irked him. “-- I thought to say my greetings. How are you, dear sister-in-law?”

[tealeaves-rp]

HEADCANON RELATIONSHIP MEME: 1

Sometimes you are trying to figure out something interesting for backstory (or a current plot) and you just can’t figure it out with the two characters. Or you can, but its hard to explain whats interesting about it. Whatever. This is a headcanon starter which is intended for building block headcanons based on two characters. Some are trope plots others are statements indicative of a moment or experience with the other character.

These can also double as fic prompts.

IF YOU WANT A SURPRISE HERE’S A RANDOM NUMBER GENERATOR. THERE ARE 36 OPTIONS.

Keep reading

[wixenprince]

Slippery Salamanders | Open

[williammulciber-blog]

wixenprince:

Severus looked the man up and down quickly - someone dressed this nicely was bound to turn him down, at least for the prospect of chasing after salamanders in the grimy docks. But all he needed was a distraction, really, and perhaps the man had a way of getting in control of the crowd… And now that he looked at him a little more closely, Severus thought he might’ve recognized him somewhere around the city. The businessman, on the other hand, certainly didn’t recognize him, and he scoffed at his claims.

“No, I don’t work down here, but I -,” he started, glancing down at himself. Severus did look a bit of a mess, having ran out of the shop with just a coat and hat over his dirty clothes from their basement workshop, but he was hopeful that his disheveled outfit might keep the man from recalling him from his tea shop. “Let’s just say that a very important person needs one of these creatures, and its my job to get it to them. Salamander slime can save lives, you know. But if you don’t want to help, then I’ll do it on my own,” said Severus in a huff. He gave a little shrug and turned away, pushing further through the crowd towards where people were scrambling after the fiery things.

No one would notice if one went missing, right? Not to mention that one of them was supposed to be reserved for him, anyway. Severus looked once over his shoulder back at the man, hoping that he might’ve changed his mind and could help him come up with a distraction.

William looked at the man skeptically, fingering his new watch. The man in question seemed oily and rather disingenuous -- a crook, in essence, so he guffawed as he turned away. “Listen, man, if it’s money that you need follow my prior advice. You don’t particularly like the Queen’s servant, so please stop this farce.” 

After a few moments of looking at the man further, surveying the back of his head. There was a smidgen of familiarity about that form -- was he truly not a dockhand, one of Charlie’s crowd, mayhap? At any rate, he kept his association with that brood at a minimum -- the level it ought to be at. 

Perhaps it was a smidgen of something resembling sympathy that turned his cognition to a certain vantage point -- no, more likely it was pride’s weighty scepter. William withdrew a spare pound sterling from his jacket pocket and put it on his thumb, nimbly flicking it in the direction of the man. “Put this towards fixing yourself up. A little less risky than illegal substances.” He said with a smirk.

[wixenprince]

Slippery Salamanders | Open

It’ll be fine, they said, we smuggle things all the time and nobody knows!, they claimed. Ever heard of Morel Ltd. getting caught up in a wixen scandel? Well, Severus hadn’t - not until that morning, at least.

Most of the teas that Severus brewed in his little shop, Tea and Talons, didn’t need much more than ingredients that could be found around the English countryside, along with a stir ‘round from magical hands. However, some more interesting clients required particularly strange brews, and along with those came increasingly more difficult-to-find ingredients. Flaming salamander slime, for one, wasn’t even available in the country! And that was exactly why he found himself rushing down to the docks in a huff after overhearing about today’s incident from a worried customer.

Water splashed up onto his coat as he neared the shipyard, the dirty puddles still hanging around from the last time it’d rained. Good thing we aren’t in a dry spell, he thought, approaching a group of workers and bustling citizens. Severus didn’t often venture down to the shipyards - Lily seemed to have more of a knack for doing business with them - but he’d specifically promised this client that he would have his tea ready by tomorrow morning, and that was simply impossible if he didn’t get his hands on at least a leg of one of these salamanders today.

He scanned the crowd for someone who looked invested in the cargo that’d been spilled, and then shuffled through the people and over to their side. Hiding his face behind his overgrown hair, he nudged them and muttered, “Hey mate, d'you reckon you could help me catch one of those things? We can split it if you like - or I can pay you.” Severus carefully peeked over at them from the corner of his eyes, his lips turning up into a tiny smile.

[williammulciber-blog]

The salamander incident was cataclysmic to say the least. At least it was Morel Ltd.; Tibicena did not need this sort of press. William had received a flurry of telegraphs and it wasn’t even half past two -- blast it. Unfortunately, he owed some favors for a stakeholder in Morel Ltd., so he had promised to go down to the docks to survey the scene. At least, it was positively muggy in London at this hour, what with puddles all about -- William avoided them carefully, wanting to save his new Italian leather shoes from damage. He paused for a moment, looking over the shifting body of people briefly, before he felt something at his side. William glanced in their direction, ascertaining the individual in question to be someone who looked relatively ungroomed. “Pardon me?” William asked with vicious politeness. Did this man know who he was talking to -- one of the major stakeholders of the Tibicena Line?, William thought angrily. This was another adverse effect of the accident -- scum such as this had crawled out of the gutters looking for a shining penny to procure. “I will do no such thing. Are you a dockhand?” He gave the man a piercing once-over. “Get to work, lad, and maybe work honestly; see where that gets you.” Even if William was in need of salamander smile -- and he wasn’t -- he wasn’t in the business of discussing it so openly in such a public setting.

[tealeaves-rp]

  ☕     WILLIAM MULCIBER   ☕   25 - 30   ☕   STATUS: OPEN CHARACTER

 ☕  GENERAL HISTORY:                              {tw: consent issues}

The Mulciber line has long tolerated the taint of magic, but unlike many of their peers they never learned to delight in it. When William began to show signs of the gift (curse), his parents did their best to suppress it any way they could. Some of those methods were downright unpleasant but since the alternative was exposure to scandal, they did what they had to, not matter how harsh.

Unfortunately it didn’t work so more drastic measures were called for. They hired an orphan wix to serve as a maidservant (her origins kept secret, of course!) but while she did her share of the cleaning, her more important job was to teach William what she knew about magic, and how to hide it. He was elated to finally have a chance to master instead of merely denying his gifts, and found his new tutor charming in a coarse, common sort of way. His parents disagreed.

Did he set Mary up to witness his father’s fit of discipline? He can’t be sure – but planned or not, it worked out in his favor. His father was dead with no evidence of foul play and his pretty young maid had just revealed that she had a whole host of other talents he could use. With the family fortune now his to safeguard, William had plenty of tasks to occupy her. There was always someone who needed coercing or extorting (or worse) to make a proper deal, and with Mary on his side business was a charm to manage – literally. It’s a good thing she’s never questioned her station in life; never sought to be more than a maid; William can’t think what he’d do without her.

 ☕  CHARACTER DETAILS:

Like many gentlemen, he is a collector of rare things – in his case, oddities of a wixen nature. He thus finds it useful to maintain close ties to those who move such goods, even going so far as to “slum it” with the dockhands; no one is closer to the products he loves than they after all, and since he rewards keen eyes with coin they’re always happy to let him know when something interesting turns up.

Of course he doesn’t just rely on good intentions; a man like him needs someone he can trust on his payroll, and that’s where his dear friend Charlie comes in. Before Andromeda came along, he was William’s closest connection to Tibicena Shipping – but just because he doesn’t need a backdoor entrance anymore doesn’t mean Charlie isn’t still a crucial part of his life, no matter how insecure Charlie’s been acting about their relationship since the wedding.

The terms of William’s inheritance demanded a proper marriage before his thirtieth birthday lest the whole estate go to a distant cousin, so it was convenient that Druella Black had a daughter she wanted rid of. Theirs was by no means a love match – but William still expected a slightly more interested wife than the one he married…

He also expected to be a little more interested in her, but for some reason he hardly thinks of Andromeda as his wife at all. Of course, having Mary there to share his bed whenever he wants makes for a wonderful distraction…so distracting these days, in fact, that he hardly thinks about his other usual distractions anymore. It’s odd…

Fortunately that fog of distraction had yet to extend to his business ventures. That’s good, because if he’s going to successfully worm his way into Tibicena Shipping through his wife’s family ties, he’s going to need all his wits about him; sharp as Sirius is, he’s nothing compared to his mother and aunt and none of the Blacks can be underestimated.

 ☕ SUGGESTED FACECLAIM: GODFREY GAO

[kanjabeto-deactivated20180421]

Godfrey Gao for Elle Men