` valesco { a post first war rpg }

BRO!

valesco.mods@gmail.com — Mon, 30 Jun 2014 04:14:56 GMT

There had to be a word for the wonderful feeling a person felt when they woke up before their alarm clock and realized they still had at least an hour of sleep left. A creak of a door had awoken Louis from a rather deep slumber, and his bleary eyes checked his clock for the time. 5:02 AM, yes, good, his alarm would not go off for another hour and twenty-eight minutes. If he fell back asleep now, he would ensure himself at least another hour and twenty-five.

Today was going to be a big day at work. Louis had been preparing his proposal for an international youth exchange program that would allow young wizards and witches from all over the world to experience life in wizarding London. It would bring tourism, which would then build jobs! There would be new ideas sprouted, the ministries would have connections for years to come, there were simply a thousand things that could come from this.

But he could not start thinking of them now, as he only had one hour and twenty-three minutes left to sleep. Louis let out a breath from his nose and settled back into his bed.

valesco.mods@gmail.com — Mon, 30 Jun 2014 03:50:45 GMT

WHO: LOTTIE SWEETING & ADIAN ROSENBERG
WHAT: WHOA
WHERE: HERRRR FLAT
WHEN: TONIGHT!

Lottie really didn’t know why she had owled Adian that first night. It had been such a whim, she had almost forgot she sent it by the time she got the first reply. He had been fun though, when they went flat hunting, and extremely helpful. So why not. It was a good night out, she couldn’t really remember much what they talked about, mostly quidditch. Then the other people in the bar. Lottie quite enjoyed using her commentary skills to make up stories for people chatting at tables across the way.

That one night turned into two. Then two into four. Eventually it just became a thing. And every single time, Adian walked her right up to her door, just to make sure she got home safely, never once trying for a good night kiss. He was just so sweet. And funny. Lottie genuinely liked him, and it wasn’t entirely the happy buzz that she had going on that had her grabbing his face and pulling him for a kiss tonight. Adian had been just about to shuffle off, like he always did at this point, and all she could think about was why couldn’t he just stay.

After a long moment, she finally pulled back, just enough to give them space to breath. Right. So she did that. Shifting her hands down from his face to his shoulders, she hesitated, unsure if that was really a wise move. Perhaps there was a reason he had never tried to kiss her. “I--er-- would you like to come in?” Lottie asked pulling her hands back to herself, leaning back to her door.

Adian was still crouched forward lips puckered when Lottie pulled away, and he found that it took him a few moments to gain back a bit of posture. That had happened, right? He wasn’t dreaming? He hadn’t died and gone to the afterlife? He wasn’t in a coma? This was actually happening, Lottie had just grabbed and snogged him he was sure, because her hands were still resting on her shoulders. They had never done that before. He pushed his glasses back up his nose.

How was this a thing that was happening, again?

To be completely honest, Adian had absolutely no idea. But, he wasn’t about to be the one to call attention to the fact that he felt so out of the loop he had whiplash from a night he had previously assumed would be relatively uneventful (aside from the expected eventful, of course).

He experienced his second heart attack of the night when Lottie spoke again. Come… in? It was-- it was late, like--- Grandmother Louis was already asleep by now late, and they had been out for a while late, late enough that---

Blinking quickly (and recovering from feeling like he had almost fallen over from her words), Adian’s mouth flapped like a fish out of water. Would he like to come in? Would he like to come in? Did she really---

“Um--- yeah. Yeah,” he swallowed, nodding along in an attempt to have even the tiniest bit of decorum. “Yeah,” Adian repeated again, but this time made sure to lock his gaze with Lottie’s as he spoke.

“Yeah?” she repeated, opening her door and walking them backwards into her flat. Lottie didn’t waste much time before leaning back in to snog Adian again. Her fingers running through his hair then trailing down his back. She wondered momentarily why she hadn’t thought to do this before. On any of the other nights he had walked her home. Guiding his steps, Charlotte walked him backwards until he backs of his legs hit the couch.

Taking advantage of his momentary unbalance, she pushed him back into the couch, perching herself on his lap, knees on either sides of his hips. Her heart raced in excitement as her fingers finally found their way under his shirt. A small ‘oh’ escaped her lips as her hands ran up along his sides and trailing back down to his abs. Abs that she could feel. Taking a moment to breathe, her mind circled back around to all the nights out that could ended like this. With Charlotte kissing along his jawline, neck, anywhere really and her hands dancing along his skin.

This was it, this was how he was going to die. Adian could feel his heart racing entirely too fast, his limbs felt completely on a mind of their own, and his brain couldn’t keep up so he tried his very, very best to stay with the pace Lottie was setting. That was for the best, he decided as he quite proudly took a great grasp of her hair to pull her closer, because it gave him no time to actually think about what was happening.

He had even been about to hitch her up into his arms, for his neck had begun to hurt and he longed for a position more comfortable, but that was all shot to hell when she pushed him down and onto his back.

The image of Lottie Sweeting lowering herself onto him would, forever, be burned into even the tiniest crevices of his mind, and in that moment Adian had never felt so thankful to have a hundred-plus year wizarding life expectancy.

No, this was how he was going to die. His eyes widened for a moment, and his palms extended out in a startled manner. Her hands on his chest distracted him, her lips were everywhere and--- swallowing hard, Adian extended his chin back and closed his eyes momentarily. There were a lot of senses going off at once, his body felt like the general temperature of a volcano and he couldn’t--- she wasn’t sure if--- a distinct nip at the skin between his neck and his jaw had Adian snapping his eyes back open and squirming to attention.

Okay, okay, he couldn’t just lay here like a flop flobberworm, he didn’t want to lay here like a flop flobberworm so-- taking control of his own limbs again, one hand snuck itself under Lottie’s skirts to firmly grasp her upper thigh, and the other entangled itself within her hair again, no doubt knotting it into a mess as he clutched it. Adian turned his head, arching up to catch her lips once more.

For a moment, Lottie worried that maybe she had read the signs wrong, that perhaps Adian wasn’t as-- She moaned into his kiss as his hand slipped under her skirt, bolder that she was expecting but not at all unwelcome. Okay, he was certainly as enthusiastic as she was, just took him a moment to catch up.

She tugged at his shirt, deciding after a few minutes of her hands exploring his torso that it was practically a tragedy that he was still wearing one. Besides, he felt hot, she was doing him a favor really, as the room had suddenly become a sauna. “Hey--” she murmured into his lips, because he wasn’t paying attention to the fact she was attempting to take of his clothes. Which was completely forgivable as he was certainly paying attention to other things.

Rocking back just enough to pull his shirt off, she had planned to return promptly back to snogging but was distracted by-- well by him. “Why do you even---” Her words trailed off as she just took a moment to stare. Why were shirts even necessary? Leaning back over she trailed a line of kisses along his collar bone and up his neck, hoping that he didn’t mind a nip here or there too terribly much. All the while her hands drifted further and further down until they slid along his hips, fingers teasing at the hemline of his pants.

While such an unflinching stare would have usually caused alarmed to his inner core, right now Lottie’s gawking barely phased Adian. Yes, he was fit, wasn’t he? He tried, he took care of himself (for the most part), he wasn’t completely horrid to look at! Feeling a well-deserved boost in ego, he puffed his chest up ever so slightly and with an utmost devotion concentrated his efforts on her front.

It was difficult because there wasn’t really a lot of room, but with a bit of fumbling he did manage to undo and pull apart her blouse. Would robes have been easier to deal with? Adian wasn’t sure, but he once again thanked the all fates for Lottie declare she wanted to try out a Muggle bar tonight. This seemed to be working for them, nothing awfully uncomfortable had happened yet. No button in the eye, no knee in the groin no---

“Is this really happening?” Adian blurted, unable to control the flow from his thoughts to his mouth any longer. Her hands had moved to a more provocative area, provocative enough to snap him from whatever lust-filled world he had been in.

“Like--” The hand not currently glued under her skirt went to clutch the side of her neck. Adian looked up at Lottie, still not fully believing his own eyes. His next words came out with questioning disbelief.

“This is actually happening,” he established, albeit huskily and out of breath. Adian tried to keep his gaze focused on her face, for this was an important thing to establish for his own sanity, but his eyes couldn’t help but drop down to gaze within her open shirt. Merlin what was he doing, why was he talking at all this close to Lottie’s chest.

Lottie pulled away sharply at his words, sitting up straight this time staring at his face in disbelief. Is this really happening? . Her hands were very nearly down his pants! There was definitely a hand up her skirt, her shirt unbuttoned, his, she was sure she threw somewhere across the room. Obviously this was happening. "I'm not drunk, if that is what you are concerned about," she let out with a touch more bite than she had intended.

Taking a breath, Lottie tried to remind herself that he was most likely trying to be the overly polite gentleman that he was. Which at this very moment was extremely frustrating. It was for the best though, perhaps, if she took the opportunity to clarify. As sweet and nice as Adian was to her, she would hate to lose a friend because he thought it was something more that it was. She'd been on that side of things before, and she refused to be that person.

"Look, Adian" she said folding her arms across her chest and ducking her head slightly to regain his attention. "I like spending time with you. You're funny and nice and generally easy to talk to. I have fun with you, and right now I am very intentionally trying to have sex with you. Because I think it will be fun, and hot, and if how this has started is any indicator, probably pretty awesome."

She waited a beat for him to catch up with her words and process them. The last thing she wanted was for him to miss the next, very important bit. "But that's all this is." She said very clearly, keeping her gaze on his. "A fun time between friends. So," Lottie dropped her hands resting them on her knees. "If that's alright with you, can we stop talking now? Otherwise I should probably move off your lap and give you a moment."

“No I mean---” he yelped, but quickly Adian pulled his lips back and closed his mouth. Talking, more talking, why was he so cursed with constantly having to talk? It was not his turn to speak, so it was with wide eyes that he watched Lottie, watched her face (when she redirected his attention), and watched the air curdle serious.

He withheld flinching when she said ’Look’, and tried his very best to not look utterly daft. His hand, the one lifeline to this quickly deteriorating mood, stayed steadfast wrapped on her leg. Out of nervousness, Adian didn’t realize his grip had tightened significantly with time.

A fun time between friends?

A dark thought in the back of his mind wondered if he could do that. It wasn’t--- well, he truly--- would it be--- pressing his head back into the couch, Adian scrunched his eyes shut for a moment in an attempt to think. He supposed… realistically… things were never… if he wanted this, now… which he did… then…

“Okay,” he let out, eyes flashing open again. “Okay,” Adian repeated, nodding slightly now. He could do that, the more he thought about it, the more he realized he could definitely do that. Nodding vigorously, he curled up to meet Lottie again. If that was what she wanted, he would… he could at least try to see if it worked. Right?

Yes Adian answered his own question, and quite boldly retracted his hands from under her skirt to finish the job he started with her blouse. It popped fully open, and he sat up, looking to push her back and under him. His lips eagerly sought her soft skin, pressing against her collarbone first before moving down further and further.

For a moment, just half a moment, Lottie thought that he was going to turn her down. That she had pushed her luck thinking that he would be fine with just a hook up. At the first okay, she relaxed considerably. At the second she reach over and took his glasses off, setting them to the side because at this point they would only get in the way.

Lottie must have missed a moment or two, being caught off guard by Adian's advances. Her back arched at his kisses. Yes, this had been an excellent idea. Her fingers laced through his hair as her head tilted back. Hooking her legs around his thighs, Lottie pulled his hips closer to hers as her free hand tried to find its way to the button on his pants. It was so very hard to concentrate though, with the things he was doing with his mouth. She could very well just lay here all night and let him--

Wait--what? Sweet Adian who had never even stolen a kiss had somehow managed to get her on her back and take over control. Just what? Giving him another minute, Lottie gathered enough momentum to pull his face back up to hers, pushing herself back up into a sitting position. Not that she didn't enjoy his attention (oh, she definitely enjoyed it) she just couldn't reach far enough down to get her hands anywhere exciting like that.

It didn't take her long to resolve that issue. She groaned into his mouth as her hands slipped down his hips. She needed to think, quick, before she lost all ability. "I have a bed," she spoke quickly, trailing kisses along his jaw and down his neck, because any longer and there was no way they were moving from the couch. Though, with one hand pushing away any fabric it ran into and the other dragging down his back, she wasn't sure moving was worth the effort.

His hearing had lost the battle of his senses, so it was with a fuzzy recognition that Adian realized Lottie was talking at all. What had she said? Something about… her? Back on his back and breathing heavily, he tried desperately to backpedal, but all he could think about was Lottie’s hair. How mad it made him, how soft it felt, how much he would enjoy turning it into an absolute after-sex nest hair.

His own thought startled him, enough to let out a distracted, “Okay,” despite having no idea what he was affirming. Though, at this point, as she raked her hands down his back, Lottie could ask Adian a lot of things that he wouldn’t object much to. He closed his eyes and leaned back, thinking, for definitely the fortieth time in the last twenty minutes, that this was really happening.

valesco.mods@gmail.com — Sat, 28 Jun 2014 04:51:11 GMT

Who: Delilah and Henry
What: Henry crashes Delilah's pity party
Where: Delilah's flat
When: Now?

It didn’t take long for Delilah to realize that she had messed up. A few hours alone with nothing to do but think, and soon all she could think about was how selfish she had been. How she turned something that should be all about Matt and made it about her. After a few glasses of wine, she had a list of situations in which she had done the exact same thing. Pretending to be selfless, when really it was all about her gain. Then she wondered why her relationship failed.

But what could she do? What right did she have to wallow, knowing that Matt was out there somehow trying to figure out how to deal with the worst possible situation and there was nothing she could do to help him. She had an opportunity and she ruined it. Delilah couldn’t even see a way to go apologize, it would be--- he had specifically asked for time and space. Said that he needed to be alone. So that meant she was suppose to wait for him to come to her? Even though she had been wrong? What if he thought that she didn’t care? Or that she had nothing to apologize for?

In refusing to let herself completely wallow, she went to her duels, and went to practice (Ethan, luckily didn’t say much to her silent stewing and extra fervor in hexes) then she promptly came home and tried to figure out what to do next. How she was supposed to move forward. That usually included a glass of wine (or three) and ended with her falling asleep on the couch. (That stupid couch that she hated and loved and just was-- well she was currently on the hating stage and the cushions were thrown around the room), She had tried to owl Nora four times, but never seemed to manage it. She didn’t want to talk about this to anyone, mostly because she was too ashamed of her behavior. So she dueled, and came home and waited, because that is where she told Matt she would be. There was no way she was going to be selfish and a liar.

When there was a knock on the door, she nearly knocked over her wine and tripped trying to get to the door so fast. She hadn’t expected--- Delilah hadn’t heard from Matt since he left, she thought he would need much longer. She was half convinced she wouldn’t see him again until July. Her heart raced as she reached the door, pulling at the knob desperately. She had no idea what she would say. She needed to figure it out quick before---

“Oh. It’s you.” Delilah didn’t even bother to try to hide her disappointment in finding Henry at the door. Leaving the door open she turned away, this time carefully stepping over the stray couch cushion. Picking up her glass of wine she took a sip before turning to Henry. “Would you like a drink?”

“If I had a sickle for everytime a Gryffindor greeted me in that way…” Henry mused aloud. He remained in the doorway of Delilah’s flat, eyeing the mess it was in with only slightly contained confusion. For the past week or so, she had inexplicably been on time for all of her duels and practices, which was the first sign that something was wrong. When she arrived to said matches, however, her natural poise was off and she was making mistakes that only rookie duelers made. With this new sporting season sending his clients into unknown madness for reasons still unclear to Henry, he made the decision to attempt to figure out what was wrong with Delilah before she too disappeared off the face of the earth.

Henry took a tentative step into the flat, waving off her drink. He had not known Delilah to be a day-drinker, but she was obviously in some sort of state. He played with the cuffs of his cloak, looking unbothered by the disaster in her flat.

“No, I’m fine, thank you,” he said politely. Henry lifted his gaze to her, eyebrows high. “I am confused, however, about why it looks like a tornado has blown through your flat, and perhaps would like to question why you strongly smell of alcohol before eight o’clock in the evening.”

He crossed his arms. Henry already had a sneaking suspicion of what was going on with Delilah, as Phoebe Smethwyck had come to him with some not so hypothetical questions about how to deal with bloody (literally) quidditch players arriving on your doorstep.

Rolling her eyes, Delilah finished her current glass of wine before setting on a mission to find another bottle. Didn’t Henry think he was funny, coming in here with his jokes. It was well after---she paused to check her watch--- well after five, she had no more duels for the day, so why not have a drink. There were far worse things she could be doing and Henry didn't have to know when she started drinking.

Grabbing a bottle, she came to stand across the room from Henry, inspecting the mess. It wasn’t that bad. “I’m having an epiphany.” She said retrieving her empty glass, pouring herself more wine. “And this sort of epiphany requires alcohol.”

Moving carefully through her flat, she picked up the cushions and returned them to the couch so Henry could have a place to sit. By the time she was halfway through her glass (which was really only a few sips) Delilah had the room looking reasonable. “Have I missed a duel?” she asked settling into a corner of the couch. She hadn’t thought she did, but who knew at this point. She couldn’t think of any other reason for Henry to have cause to come check up on her. “Or is this just a random flat inspection?”

“Hm.”

Henry remained in the foyer, arms staying strictly crossed. He wasn’t sure if Delilah actually knew what an epiphany was, but he decided to play along with her game. He didn’t know her to be an excess drinker, and her current stormy state was definitely not natural. Delilah was someone who could find something positive about the worst of scenarios, a trait that Henry often found annoying, but he’d rather her see the world that way instead of the mess she seemed to be in.

He took a few steps around the couch, examining her carefully.

“No missed duels, amazingly,” Henry said. He’d been truly surprised about that fact. “What’s this epiphany you’re having? Is your wine drinking awakening some new dueling set skill?”

He’d wait to bring up Summerby, who had reportedly been stalking through his practices in Puddlemere in a rare state. You would have to be an idiot to not put the context clues together.

Delilah laughed bitterly downing her glass. “No. The wine makes me feel a little less miserable when I think about what a terribly selfish person I am.” She held up her hand holding off any rebuttal Henry may have had. She didn’t want to hear it. She couldn’t stand to even give him the chance to say something nice. “It’s true. Think about it, that ring I stole back from Thomas’ ex? Sure I said I did it because he deserved to have it back, really I just wanted him to pay attention to me. I cheated on Scott, I dated Rich for months even though I never cared like he did for me. I never listened to you when we dated.”

She avoided Henry’s gaze through her entire rant, refilling her glass. She opened and closed her mouth several times trying to figure out how to tell Henry what was going on, without actually telling him. It wasn’t any of his business, it wasn’t her story to share. “And then there was that damned Tattler article. And then---” She abandoned her glass on the table not even wanting to drink anymore. Thinking all of these things was one thing, telling them was another. Her chest constricted. Why couldn’t it have been Matt at the door? Covering her eyes with her hand, she tilted her face towards the ceiling.

“He’s going to realize this. Matt is going to realize that I am completely unable to not make every situation about me, and he’s not going to come back. And I can’t even go apologize, not when he specifically said--- I just---” She groaned gripping at her hair, because even now, even after all these realizations her mind kept rounding to whether or not he was going to come back. Her boyfriend was dealing with an actual life crisis and this is what she was doing. “I am incapable of being a supportive girlfriend. That, Henry, is my epiphany.”

“Oh, cry me a river, Spinnet!”

Henry looked down at her in disgust. That’s what she was wallowing about, her failed relationships? He’d assumed that her current state had to do with Summerby and that perhaps her feelings were a bit deeper for him than they had been for her last few flings, but to be drowning in her sorrows and wine about past relationship mistakes? That was ridiculous. He stood firmly at the opposite end of the couch, glowering down at her.

“And you don’t think any of the idiots you’ve dated made mistakes?” Henry asked, shrugging his shoulders as he looked back. “McCormack’s a nutter, Cadwallader was as as boring as watching paint dry the muggle way, Rich had too many feelings, and---us? We were fifteen, Delilah. Everyone’s selfish when they’re fifteen.”

He let out a breath. Henry knew he’d made plenty of mistakes with the women he dated. Heidi had been the only one to make it past the early rounds and if he were honest with himself they had been thrust forward in the relationship timeline because of Bran. He loved his son, of course, but his unplanned arrival into the world forced Henry to take things a bit more serious than he’d wanted to. And now look where he was. Henry shook his head, sitting on the arm of the couch.

“So instead of working on your supposed problem, you turn to wine to numb the pain and emotions, which, in essence, is selfish.” Henry did not have the time to rehabilitate yet another one of his clients, especially when this one was self-induced. Some things could not be helped, but this! “You’re not selfish, Delilah. You care way too much for your own good. You don’t think before you speak, or before you do things, and that’s what gets you in trouble. If you used your brain like you do while you duel, you wouldn’t get yourself into these ruts.”

Henry lifted his chin and looked away, “I didn’t come here to lecture, but you always seem to drag one out of me.”

Delilah pursed her lips as Henry spoke. He didn’t get it. She didn’t give him the full story so he didn’t understand. She stood from the couch, now angry that Henry seemed to be making light of what this was. Did he he think Matt was just another Rich, or another Scott? That soon this would just blow over and she would be fine again? “Life isn’t dueling, Henry! Relationships can’t be-- in a duel I have to decide in a split second what I’m going to do. I’m wrong, I get hit, lose. I lose, big deal, I make it up in the next duel. I do well at dueling because I don’t over think things. These ‘ruts’--- When I misread cues and act too quickly in life, I hurt the people I love. And that isn’t an easy fix. There isn’t a ‘well next time, I’ll know you weren’t trying to break up with me’.”

Delilah fumed snatching up her glass and the bottle storming off to her kitchen, slamming both into the sink. Henry thought she was throwing a temper tantrum worthy of yet another one of his stupid lectures. “His brother is not his brother. He is a fraud. Scamming Matt using his past.” Delilah finally said when she heard Henry follow her into the kitchen. She gripped the edge of the sink, her knuckles white, and stared at the wine drain down the sink. “All Matt wanted was to find his little brother, and when he did, I lied to him about how I felt about Caleb moving in, the entire time I was just jealous. I should have been happy for him and---” When she thought over everything had said and done over the last month, she felt ill.

Henry was right though, but she had known before he had said it that this wasn't the best course of action. But she didn't know what to do, she couldn't think of a scenario that worked. “It hurts, it physically hurts that I can’t do anything. His life is falling apart and I put what I wanted first. This was over a week ago. And I know I should apologize, but he asked to be alone. I already pushed that once so---” She threw her hands up. Delilah didn’t know what to do. All she wanted was to be there for Matt, and she didn’t know how to do that. Not now. She sighed greatly, giving up.

“Why are you here then? If not to lecture me and once more point out how I am doing things wrong?”

He couldn’t help his look of surprise as Delilah revealed what had happened to Summerby. So it wasn’t merely a breakup that had both of them in a state. Henry wished he could discreetly owl Phoebe to tell her to put Summerby on suicide watch, but he instead remained leaning on the frame of kitchen’s entrance. He shook his head; that was madness.

“Being nice to avoid hurting someone’s feelings isn’t a sin, Delilah,” Henry said with a shake of his head. If his clients knew how often he lied to them for the greater good, he’d probably have been hanged by now, or worse, fired. “You weren’t hiding this asshole’s secret, you didn’t know he was a conman.”

His arms tightened around him as he thought. Henry didn’t know what he’d do if he found out he’d been tricked in such a manner. Probably try to kill the person who had done the conning, and that made him want to owl Phoebe even faster. His eyes darted around her kitchen for the owl post, but the whole flat was a mess.

“Stop pitying yourself,” Henry said, a bit more snappishly than he meant it as he continued to search around her flat with his eyes. “Everyone gets jealous, that doesn’t make you a terrible person. If he’s making you feel that way then maybe he’s the selfish and shitty one.”

When he couldn’t find the post from his position, Henry pushed off the wall and idly made his way around to the nearest window. Her question rang in his ears and he let out a breath as he searched, hands drifting over her furniture. “I’m here because I noticed something was wrong and was concerned. Next time I’ll let you drown in your wine, if you like.”

She wrinkled her nose as Henry snapped at her again. Folding her arms across her chest she turned to defend Matt. What did Henry know of the situation other than what she told him? Not that she was determined to be the in the wrong for everything, it wasn’t exactly fair for him to turn everything around taking the blame off her. He was just as bad as Charlie was sometimes. She wondered what he really thought of Matt, and if they broke up he’d just tack some flaw onto his name as proof that they weren’t meant to be anyways. No one seemed to be able to point out these reasons while she was currently in a relationship.

“Hey! That’s not---” Her argument died on her lips though as he continued. Watching him roam around her room not even caring that she was snooping around her stuff. She had specifically went to all her duels, on time just so Henry wouldn’t notice. Sure she wasn’t doing well, but that wasn’t--- she had been distracted before. Sure he infuriated her, but it really wasn’t part of his job to make sure that she didn’t drown herself in wine as long she was showing up.

“I---well--no.” She really didn’t know what to say. Henry really was able to pull her back from a crisis quicker than anyone else. She hated him most times, but he never said anything he didn’t believe, at least not that she knew of. “You wouldn’t do that even if I wanted you to.” She said with a pout unable to admit that she simply appreciated it.

“Yes, well,” Henry said, giving up his search. He turned to Delilah and smiled lightly. Henry didn’t have many people that he could call a friend in his life, so keeping the ones he did consider close in the right state of mind was a priority. Being Delilah’s agent, it made it easier for him to intervene in her life when he believed she was making poor choices. “You’ve become a bit of a bad habit.”

His shoulders dropped, feeling that perhaps he’d succeeded in keeping her from drinking for the rest of the evening and not having to depend on it tomorrow. Maybe he would schedule her in for an appearance that the dueling academy in Cardiff, she could use something to distract herself. But first, he needed to get word to Phoebe about the potential homicidal quidditch player she may have on her hands.

“I have to get going, Bran’s with a nanny that leaves the place smelling like old yogurt.” Henry pulled a face at the thought, knowing he would have to bathe his son again when he returned. He pointed a stiff finger at Delilah as he made his way to the door, “Don’t be too hard on yourself; you’re not perfect, but neither is he.”

Delilah allowed herself a bit of a smile, Henry’s wording amusing her. As long as it was a bad habit he wasn’t planning on dropping, she felt oddly pleased with the role.

“Oh, you’re leaving already?” She asked smile fading as quickly as it had appeared. Henry had just gotten here. Sure, he probably accomplished what he had come to do, but--- She thought briefly about asking him to stay. Only because she had spent the last week and a half by herself, and now that she had someone in her flat, she didn’t quite like the idea returning to solitude. “I---well, okay.” Delilah could always owl Nora. Or even perhaps attempt a letter to Matt. Opening the door for him, she nodded along with his words. Henry, right once again. Neither of them were perfect, but they fit well together. It was the little things, like how happy it made her when she got Matt to smile. She couldn’t remember the last time she had wanted so badly for a relationship to work out.

Well, she could but---

“Thank you,” she said rocking on her heels, shaking the idle thought from her head. She wasn’t sure when the last time she thanked him was, but Delilah did know she didn’t say it often enough. She watched for a moment, before giving him a smile. “For coming by. You always seem to know the right things to say. Perhaps, you deserve a raise.”

Grail!

valesco.mods@gmail.com — Thu, 26 Jun 2014 23:11:16 GMT

Scarlett truly hated playing against the Wasps. Ludo Bagman’s face on that gigantic screen brought literal pains to her chest, and it was as if he made it a point to be in her line of vision just to flash her that smirk of his. Ugh. Playing for the Wasps had been the worst season of her life and she hated having to relive it every time they played in Wimbourne.

It was probably an attempt at a scare tactic, she thought as she readied herself for the quickly approaching swarm of players. Bagman was trying to get into her head so that she got distracted, but Scarlett was better than that. It was going to take more than his ugly face to get that quaffle through one of her hoops. Left, right, left, she watched the red ball get tossed back and forth, just out of the grasp of their chaser. Carys was going to swoop in at any second from below, and Tristan from the top, but until then---

She winced at the sight of a bludger smacking the Wasps’ chaser straight in the gut, sending him flying off his broom. Her eyes followed the quaffle that had dropped down with him. Scarlett lurched forward to accept the ball from Carys (coming from below, as she had predicted), and it was only because of the gasp of the crowd that she looked up and managed to see the broomstick before it hit her.

Scarlett managed to keep her grip on her own broom as she was pushed back by the force. She blinked, wondering why the crowd was shouting like it was. Carys had the quaffle, but no one was moving, the game had stopped. She blinked again and looked down at her stomach. Oh. Did anyone else see the broomstick protruding out of her?

Her eyes drifted up to the big screen and for the first time that night it was someone other than Bagman being showcased. Funny. Scarlett blinked at the giant image of her on the screen before she lost her grip on her broom and tilted, sliding off into a plummet toward the pitch.

valesco.mods@gmail.com — Thu, 26 Jun 2014 04:03:01 GMT

Who: Cameron and a new friend
What: Random chats
When: Wee hours of the morning
Where: At a muggle dinner

Ever since coming to England, Cameron found himself having a hard time sleeping. He wasn’t quite sure what it was, but there was just some nights his brain refused to shut off. Or he would find himself waking up at an ungodly hour, ready to start his day. At first he would just lay awake and stare at the ceiling, but that got old quick. There was only so much to see within the four walls of his room. So roaming around in the wee hours of the morning became a habit for him. There were less people around, so generally it was less stressful. And it was how he had found that little garden he had taken Nicola to.

Nicola… wasn’t she an unexpected turn of events. Had anyone ever told him that he’d be trying to win the affections of a such a high class pureblood lady, he would have laughed. But there was something more to her, he could tell. And the challenge to get her to smile, or to agree to follow him on a spontaneous adventure, it was fun. And her smile was certainly worth it. She certainly almost made him think England was worth it. He hadn’t gone home yet.

And for the most part he was sleeping better, now it was only every once in a while he found himself awake a strange hours. Like this morning, up at five am, with nothing to do. So he picked yet another direction from his apartment (flat, whichever) and wandered for a few hours until the streets started to fill with people heading to work. Then it became just a bit too crowded, and he ducked into the first diner he saw that looked decent and had an empty booth he could take up residence in.

“Oh sorry,” Cameron said when he came to the realization that the waitress had made her way to his table, and by the look on her face had probably already asked him a question. He must of zoned out once he had sat down. “Sorry, until I’ve had my morning coffee its like I was out all night counting the stars, which I may have been but that’s another story. The point is, I’m not normally this rude and could I please please have a very large coffee?”

Mattie had nearly clambered over the counter to take on Cameron’s table. She insisted to Dolly to take her break now, and that she could handle the next half an hour. For sure. How couldn’t she use this opportunity to “get to know” the bloke that she had seen/spied her sister spending a bit of time with? Mattie greeted this rather handsome bloke with the best of smiles, and laughed his apology off.

“Are you sure you don’t want a very, very large coffee?” she joked, pressing her notepad to her hip. Merlin, was he handsome or what? Mattie had only managed to keep tabs from a distance, which she wouldn’t admit out loud because that sounded strange and stalkerish, but this bloke was definitely prettier than she had imagined. Certainly pretty enough for her sister to spend more than a bit of time with.

"Counting stars, huh?" she said, eyebrows high in amusement. "All by your lonesome?"

“You would be saint, if perhaps you just brought out a bowl.” Cameron laughed, a joke or not, how early he got up was starting to set in and he would use as much coffee as possible. Looking up to the waitress, he paused for a moment. She looked incredibly familiar but he couldn’t quite place just where he would have seen her before. He was certain that this was the first time in this diner. And where else would he know her from?

He pushed the thought out of his mind when she asked if he had been on his own. He couldn’t help but smile when he thought of Nicola, and the outrage he was bound to receive if he were to ask her to join him in his late night wanderings. “Yea, all by my lonesome.” Cameron mused, and not seeing any harm in taking the bait for her question, he continued on. “You see, my--” he hesitated, unsure how to refer to Nicola. Could he consider her his girlfriend? Surely, she couldn’t have too much objection to that. Well--- “I’m new to town, and haven’t had a chance to meet too many people. My one friend, she happens to be very fond of rules, and while I haven’t a clue what they all are, I’m certain that there has to be one against completely innocent wanderings in the early hours of the morning.”

He probably shouldn’t be talking to the waitress about this. Chances were she didn’t even care, it was part of their job to be nice after all. Then again, who else was he supposed to talk to? All of his friends were back in South Carolina, and he hadn’t met all that many people her outside Nicola. He grabbed a menu from the far side of the table, with a small shrug. “It’s okay though, its when I do my best planning.”

He most certainly was new to town, listen to that accent! Mattie quickly distinguished he was from the States, which made his relationship with Nicola that much more intriguing. He didn’t seem like her type, what with his thinking out amongst the stars, but maybe her sister had changed her tune a little. Maybe. Mattie had still been too wary to actually approach Nicola, which was cowardly and foolish, but that’s where they stood. She had come to her performance in the park, which had been thrilling, so---perhaps Mattie needed to build up some nerve and actually talk to her sister.

It had to have a better outcome than keeping tabs on her and this handsome fellow, hm?

“Breaking rules is always a bit of fun, I’m sure she’ll come around,” Mattie said with a wink. She tapped her pen on her notepad, wondering if he actually needed to eat or had just wandered in here. She didn’t particularly want to do her job, right now. “Other than a tub of coffee, what else can I get you? I’m Mattie by the way, I’ll be your server---can’t forget to say that, manager might be watching.”

She was sure her manager was asleep in the back room between the boxes of shipment, but this chap didn’t need to know that.

He stared at the menu for a moment, unsure if he was actually hungry. He should eat but he wasn’t sure he could be bothered actually decided what he wanted. Giving up on the menu his attention turned back to Mattie. He studied her face, he didn’t recognize the name, but the sense of familiarity didn’t go away. “I’m trying to convince her its part of the American Charm.” Cameron said lips quirking up into a smile. I was working, somewhat. The picnic in the garden went far better than he expected it to.

And lasted considerably longer.

“I think, just the coffee.” He decided, looking around the diner to see if he could spot the manager. While mischief was fun now and then, he really didn’t want to get this waitress in trouble at work. That was neither fun nor charming. He settled back into the booth and stared out the window while he waited for her to return. Fingers tapped along the tabletop as he watched all the people on the street, and for the second time he was caught off guard by her arrival. “The patience you must have, to have to be able to deal with people practically falling asleep at your tables.”

Patience! Ha. Well, perhaps in many ways, she did, but when Mattie grew excited it was very hard to contain her urges. Placing the coffee mug (the largest she could find) in front of him, Mattie took a quick look around at the empty, desolate diner, and promptly slid into the other side of the booth. Propping her chin in her hand, she smiled sweetly.

“When you work the early bird shift, you take on the duty of waking up the masses to take hold of the day,” Mattie said. “But if you were out all night, I have a feeling you don’t have anywhere to go.”

That would not do. Unless he was stinking rich, a jobless bloke could not continue courting her sister for much longer. But, knowing Nicola, the fact that she was giving Cameron the time of day meant that he had something to offer. Maybe she just had to dig a little deeper. Mattie’s hands dropped to the table, and she drummed her palms.

“Let me guess, let me guess,” she said in a sing-song voice, “You...hit the lottery and don’t know what to do with yourself now that you’re swimming in gall---cash.” Mattie caught her slip, hoping Cameron didn’t. It was one thing for her to know he was a wizard, but she would lose all ability to spy if he realized she was a witch. “I’m already expecting a big tip, even if that’s not the case.”

Cameron smiled, amused by Mattie’s antics, not at all minding that she was sliding into the booth across from him. Busy pouring an unhealthy amount of sugar into his coffee and his mind halting at her mention of winning the lottery, he missed the slip completely. He blinked at her, as he put the sugar container down dumbly. It was an outrageous guess, she probably didn’t expect to be right.

Well, mostly right.

“An inheritance actually,” he said finally stirring his coffee and ducking his gaze slightly. He didn’t really want to admit to it, but he wasn’t much for outright lying. There was really no point not to tell her either. “It’s--- complicated, at best. But for the sake of conversation and simplicity, you’ve got it right on the nose. To be fair though, I didn’t even know what to do with myself when I was back in the States barely making enough to get by.” He sat back in the booth sipping on his coffee. Perhaps that is what kept him up at night most often, the feeling of unproductivity could keep you up til endless hours. More likely the new information that kept cropping up about his family, that left him in highly awkward situations.

“What about you? You don’t strike me as the sort whose life ambition is to wait tables at a diner. What’s the big dream? Since I’m already giving you a generous tip, I think I should get to know what I’m funding.”

An inheritance. So he was handsome and rich. And nice, it seemed! Mattie approved. Well, a pre-approval, she’d say. Who knew what this American in London could have up his sleeve. You had to be a little strange to be able to amble through the city streets late into the night, straight on ‘till morning.

Mattie hummed to herself as she decided what to tell Cameron. She had her sights set on spreading her music around the world? Perhaps she’d like to go on a worldwide tour? When Mattie thought of goals, her music wasn’t the first thing to pop into her head; it was getting back in good terms with her sister, the whole reason she’d dared venture back into the wizarding world. All this other stuff seemed to fill up the rest of the time.

She smiled, keeping her chin propped up, “I fancy myself a bit of a dreamer.” Mattie dropped her hands to the table counter and laid them flat, “I write, I sing, I do a bit of everything. Who knows where it’ll take me.”

Did that sound mugglish enough? With a wink, Mattie slid herself out of the booth and stood. The door’s bell had jingled and she could only ignore her job for so long without getting scold. “I’ll be back around if you need anything!”

Mattie twirled away, quite pleased with herself. Of course, if Nicola ever found out about this little encounter then...well...let’s just hope she never did, for the sake of Mattie’s life.

Sent to Mrs. Fawcett

valesco.mods@gmail.com — Thu, 26 Jun 2014 01:33:09 GMT

Dear Mrs. Fawcett,

After many attempts of trying to right this letter, I've discover there really is no delicate way to put this, but I feel that despite the awkwardness of this all, that I should still make an attempt to contact you. From what I have gathered from some rather stalkerish photographs and shady paperwork, you are the mother of my brother's daughter. I don't know what happened between the two of you, but I can only assume that you might harbor some resentment towards him. I really couldn't blame you, but as he happened to be my twin, (its a long story, I'm sure you don't really care, basically, I try not to claim them) I would hate to have to run into you somewhere along the way and give you a fright. It's awkward enough when its just acquaintances of his. ~~let alone an ex---the mother of his --- the woman he stalked?---~~

I suppose, considering all of this, I am not the sole heir to the estate anymore. You're daughter should have a right to it as well. I know that I am the last person you could possibly ever want to hear from, but I felt that you should know that I was around. I have no intentions of intruding in you life. I just-- you should know. ~~Also, there is this box of photographs of you and your daughter, some of which would be cute if you take away the circumstances in which they actually exist. I don't think you'd want them but----~~ Not sure what to do with all this stuff I found, I'll assume if I don't hear from you that I should just get rid of it all.

Sincerely,
Cameron Montgomery

:O!

valesco.mods@gmail.com — Mon, 23 Jun 2014 04:18:41 GMT

Psyke, in all her frivolous antics and ways, truly hated seeing people in pain, especially those dearest to her. Her brother had been the most important man in her life for as long as she could remember, and while she had hated him for many of those years, they were long gone and buried away. So when he banged on her door at three in the morning completely out of his mind on some sort of panic attack combined with too many pills, well. She'd been in a right state for a few weeks. Psyke had watched her brother plummet into the depths his addiction could take him one too many times, and now she was taking it into her own hands. Alex didn't have anyone to take care of him this time, which Psyke had realized quickly had been the cause of his breakdown. Watching your ex-wife get married and be so very happy about it could do that to a person.

She could really kick Graciela. Not because---well! Psyke knew that it had been her brother who caused the end of the relationship, she did, but Alex was her brother and she didn't appreciate him having to look at his ex's happy journal entries or have the literal wedding invitation shoved into his face. Even Zacharias wasn't helping with all of his excitement about the wedding, and Psyke knew that the only way her brother could truly get over his disease was to completely isolate himself from the world.

So that brought her here, after weeks of not being able to see Alex, to their first visitation day. And...of course she'd gotten the time wrong, and was an hour early. Brilliant, perfect. Psyke was told that the 'serenity garden' was a nice way to take up time, but she found herself sitting on a bench and plucking the petals off a pink flower in hopes that someone would tell her to stop destroying the flora and let her see Alex earlier. With a great big sigh, Psyke looked up from her mutilated flower, only to have her jaw drop.

"What the bleeding hell are you doing here?" She gawked at Michal Conway Lynch, who was sitting on the bench directly across the path. Psyke didn't fix her slouched posture, but her legs uncrossed as her feet dropped to the ground.

valesco.mods@gmail.com — Sun, 22 Jun 2014 15:26:04 GMT

WHO: Matt Summerby and Delilah Spinnet
WHAT: Errrr ;(
WHERE: Delilah's flat
WHEN: Last Tuesday? Some time last week.

His shoulders slumped. Matt stared at the knocker of Delilah’s door and wondered how he could dare come this close to her after how he’d acted. He’d completely dismissed her concerns, was offended by her words, and then he was just so rude---

Matt turned away to walk back to the lift, but then stopped and turned back, like he’d done at least a dozen times already. He had no right to be here, no right to come here seeking comfort or support. The past few weeks he’d flitted by on the senseless dream that he had a family again. Nothing was more important than his brother, and two nights ago the gigantic hole that Caleb had filled was a vast, empty void once again. It had taken Matt a very long time to accept his brother was gone, and that painful, throbbing feeling was now taking up residence in his chest, his heart, and his mind, once again.

She deserved an apology. Matt struggled to gather the courage to knock on Delilah’s door, but his guilty, guilty conscience kept him lingering in the hallway. He couldn’t leave, he had to tell her that he was sorry, that she was right...and then what? Matt knew how deep he could fall into his depression, was it really fair to destroy someone else’s spirit?

He stood in front of her door and made another attempt to knock, but his fist hovered inches from the wood. Matt took a few steps back and bounced off the wall across the hall. He slid to the floor, feeling pathetic. That’s what he was, he was pathetic and bruised, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could last.

Delilah hadn’t left her house since the Tattler had published bits of her private conversation for the whole wizarding world to see. Of course Matthew had every right to be mad at her. She should have just told him, when he first mentioned it that she didn’t think it was wise. Or perhaps after their dinner, that there was--- she had so many opportunities to say anything, and she didn’t. Instead, she shoved it all aside then ranted to her brother in a public place like an idiot.

She had absolutely no excuse. Nothing she could say that would make any of this better. She was certain that she hadn’t moved from the couch since Nora came over with ice cream. She would still be there too, if it hadn’t been for Henry. Who owled. And then owled again, then sent a howler. She ignored the first one, how could she focus on duels right now? Her and Matt had just taken a huge step forward in their relationship, and less than a week later it felt like it was all falling apart.

Then the second howler came, promising that if she missed today’s duel, there would be serious consequences. Apparently Henry didn’t have time for lovesick duelers that didn’t do their jobs and wouldn’t be afraid to drop her as a client. Or so he claimed. Lucky for him, Delilah didn’t feel like pressing her luck though. So she got up and got dressed. Her life didn’t revolve around around Matt. She needed to give him time before trying to approach him, so Nora said, so why not just go and take out her frustrations on opponents.

“Matt!” She dropped her bag shocked to find her boyfriend slumped down across the hall from her door. What had-- why--- she couldn’t form a thought as she rushed over to his side. He was hurt. Why was he hurt? “Are you alright? What happened?” She fretted over him, taking in his bruises. Why hadn’t he gone to a healer? They were just bruises though. She could fix bruises. “Nevermind, let’s get you inside, okay?”

Matt’s head shot up and he blanched at the sight of Delilah.

“I’m okay, I’m fine--” he let out, having forgotten about his black eye. Phoebe’s reaction had been just as panicked, but Matt had refused treatment beyond an ice pack and bandages around his hand. An anger inside of him was burning at the thought of using magic; Matt had called in sick from practice yesterday and today, and he’d used muggle transportation to get here. He stood up and took Delilah’s hands in his, forcing himself not to wince at the pain in his hand.

“I’m fine,” he repeated. He wasn’t, but it was always the first thing out of his mouth when someone was showing too much concern or worry that he didn’t know how to accept. He didn’t want her to worry, she shouldn’t have to when he was the one making a mess of everything.

But now he had to explain things, didn’t he? Now Matt had to tell her what had gone down in his house, what had occurred. A great big part of him wanted to lock away the events of Sunday night never to be seen again, but he knew he couldn’t. He gripped her hands tighter, no matter how much it hurt.

“You were right, he---” Matt’s voice got caught in his throat. He hadn’t actually said it out loud, all Phoebe knew was that whatever had happened she was not to tell Delilah about his current state. “Caleb, he---he was under polyjuice. I was being conned, you were---right to think something was up.”

Matt’s gaze dropped, feeling the darkness begin to hinder his capabilities of keeping a straight face for her.

“What.” Delilah gaped at him, putting cataloging his injuries momentary on hold. Caleb was---polyjuice--- being conned--- “What?” she repeated dumbly not even noticing his grip on her hands. Sure, she thought he might be moving a bit fast, and that Caleb seemed just a bit too good to be true, but would have never thought-- She would have never accused him of being a fraud.

Who would even do such a thing? How horrible of a person did you have to be to prey on someone's personal history? Delilah wanted to track down the git and try out all the hexes the dueling board had banned. Then, suddenly all of his injuries made sense, and her anger died down just a bit.

Taking advantage of his hold on her, Delilah lead him back into her flat. Never in her life had she wanted so badly to be wrong than this moment. What could she say? How was she supposed to respond to that. She ducked her head forcing Matt to catch her gaze.

“I don’t--- I never wanted to be right. I was being jealous, and selfish. This… this is---” She couldn’t even finish her thought. She could barely even think. Gently she pulled her hands from his, her fingers brushing his knuckles then going up to the side of his face.

“Will you let me heal this?” she asked quietly, having a feeling she already knew the answer. “Not that it will make anything better, but---” but there was nothing else she could do. What else could she offer him when the one thing he ever wanted had just been used as a terrible con. She couldn’t even imagine how he was feeling right now, let alone what to do about it.

Matt had resisted Delilah’s initial ushering into her flat and shook his head quickly at her offer to fix him up. He couldn’t look at her, he absolutely could not do it and her soft voice and gentle touch nearly split him apart. Delilah was so kind and caring, she loved him, and look what he’d done to them. Look how easily he’d picked this fraud over her! In an instant, he’d----

He shook his head again, taking a step back.

“No, I’m---” What, disgusted with magic, with himself? A complete idiot? A fool who got blinded by the one thing that had always been out of reach? Delilah had already caught a glimpse of the madness he had worked so hard to suppress and he didn’t want her to see any more of it. He didn’t want her to have to deal with any of it because she was this bright spirit of a person that deserved more than the little he had to offer.

He was mad, he was bleeding mad.

“I wanted to apologize, for being---” Matt couldn’t get out the words and he rubbed the back of his neck. He continued to back away, unable to handle the flood of emotions that was building up inside of his chest. He couldn’t stay, he couldn’t do anything but suffocate in his own misery. “For---everything. I’m sorry. I should---I have to go, I’ve got to go.”

His hands went up, but his eyes remained on the ground. Matt’s voice was shaky, and he cursed himself for it. Couldn’t he do anything without falling apart? “I’m sorry, I--I need to figure things out. I need to--I can’t---”

By the time Delilah had realized that Matt was planning on leaving, he was very near to being already out the door. He had just gotten here and now he was leaving? Before she had the chance to say anything? She had almost tripped as she moved as quickly as she could reaching out desperately to stop him. "No. Seriously??" She could not believe that he had come over here and just told her that his brother was not his brother and planned to just leave. Where was he even planning to go?

Realizing that she had grabbed a hold of his arm to physically stop him, she quickly let go. He was being ridiculous. Did he think she wanted him to leave? Or did he not want to be here, with her? "I mean, if you really want to go. If you don't want to be here I won't stop you. But---"

This is why she had waited so long. No one seemed to understand, but this is what had kept her from sleeping with Matt for months. She was so wrapped up in him even before. He had become such a big part of her life that she couldn't--- it was ridiculous, how invested she had become in this relationship. And the fact that he wasn't even looking at her, that he was so quick to run out the door, away from her. It hurt. It scared her.

Taking a breath, Delilah tried to compose herself. Reign in her thoughts before they got too out of control. "Go if you have to, but I really wish you'd stay. What you said--- we all say things at some point or another we wished we hadn't. You had every right to be mad at me, I should have been honest from the beginning. Right now it doesn't even matter--- oh for the love of--- could you just look at me please?" Delilah let out frustrated with the fact her boyfriend hadn't looked at her once since the first glance in the hallway.

What was so hard for him to understand? It wasn't like he had---okay so he hurt her feelings, wounded her pride just a bit. Did he expect her to hold it against him with all of this going on? Did he think she would say 'I told you so'? "Just stay, please. Don't want to talk, fine, we can sit on the couch and ignore the world. You want to cry, alright, I'll sit and cry with you. If you want to break things, go for it. I've been wanting to redecorate. Whatever you want, just don't think you have to run from me. When I said I love you, I meant it. And that means I'm here for you. Even when things are shitty, even after you say rude things."

Her arms flailed slightly at her sides at a loss. "I just---you mean so much to me, I want to be here for you, Matt. For whatever you need, whenever, all of it. Until you don't want me to be."

Matt pressed his palms into his eyes, trying to force back tears and the monstrous headache that was brewing. This wasn’t about Delilah, it wasn’t about Delilah, but her words made him realize that she thought it was and he didn’t---he couldn’t---maybe it was---

“I’m sorry, Delilah,” Matt apologized, dropping his hands and finally pulling his gaze up. He shouldn’t have, he shouldn’t have done it because now to see her face it just----He was terrified of how she felt about him. Absolutely bloody fucking terrified, especially when he knew how he felt about her. How could he let someone else have that sort of power over him? How could he willingly give someone else the ability to destroy him again?

He looked everywhere but her. So much of him wanted to throw himself at Delilah and let her mend his wounds, but he found that his instinct was to pull away. Nothing good for him had ever lasted, and Matt scolded himself for coming to her flat with the hope that he’d be able to accept her love. He was sad, he was so, so sad, but now all he could think of was Delilah and her feelings and that tore him up even more.

His lips pressed tightly together, face screwing up as tears began to fall. All the rage, the sadness, the anger, the betrayal, it was all hitting him too hard. He had come here to apologize and now he was being thrust with guilt he could not handle, intentional or not. Matt put a hand to his chest to try and gain control of his breaths. Why didn’t she understand that this wasn’t about her?

“I can’t do what you want,” he choked out. Is this what a nervous breakdown felt like? Dizziness with a side of an inability to breathe? “I’m fucked up, I’m fucked up, Delilah, and I---I can’t risk---I can’t go through that again---you could shatter me---”

“You could shatter me,” Delilah nearly shouted back. She hadn’t meant to be so loud, but she couldn’t understand. Did he not think it went both ways? She didn’t know what else to say, how else to reassure him. What else could she possibly say to convince him that she wasn’t going anywhere? She turned away from him pulling at her hair. She couldn’t figure out if she wanted to pull him close and hug him or hit him for not making any bloody sense. I can’t do what you want. What? What? He couldn’t stay? He couldn’t be with her? Just what.

“What are you saying, Matt?” Delilah asked turning back to him, feeling defeated. She felt like if she tried to go over to him he’d just push her away. She didn’t think she could handle the physical rejection on top of this. “Because it sounds like---I feel like---” Swallowing thickly, Delilah stared at Matt. She didn’t want to speak her fears aloud. Saying it would make it real, what if she said it and it was true. What else could he possibly be saying though. If he could risk it, what else could he possibly mean if he didn’t think she wasn’t worth the risk. She couldn’t ignore what he just said, but his answer to her question terrified her more than anything.

“Is this you trying to break up with me?” It was barely a whisper, she wasn’t even sure he could hear her. Now she felt like breaking something. Perhaps the lamps she had just fixed. They had been so happy just last week. Shaking her head, she didn’t even wait for his answer. “That’s very much what this sounds like to me, and I just can’t--- I don’t understand.”

“No!” he argued back, surprised by his fervor. They were talking over each other, not understanding, not listening. If they broke up, she’d be sad, she’d cry, but shattered? No, no. She did not get to say---Delilah had a family that would support her, that she could bounce back with. What did he have? What he had burned a hole in his chest that he could never fix. At the end of the day, after everyone went back home, he was the last man standing.

She didn’t understand, and Matt wondered if anyone ever would.

“No,” he said again. Of course he didn’t want to break up, but---how---what---how did they even get here? Matt’s hands went up, not bothering to attempt to stop the tears in his eyes as now he was just confused. Confused, sad, and frustrated, because---as guilty of a conscience that he had, the fact that this conversation/confrontation had somehow turned its focus onto Delilah’s feelings over---over what had happened to him got him flustered. He just--had to talk and not worry about how his words sounded or try to filter himself. That’s what had gotten him to this point in the first place. All the hiding of how he really felt, what he really thought.

“Stop, just---stop!” Matt said, pressing his hands to his temples, his head pounding. “I came here to apologize for being a prick, I came here to tell you that my life has just been blown to pieces by some ass who used me and---I’m not here to break up with you! Just stop! I can’t---handle all of this so, just----stop!”

He didn’t hear how loud his voice had gotten until the silence fell around them. Matt’s breaths were heavy and he now truly had no idea what he was doing here. His vision was blurry, his head was ready to explode. “I need to be by myself. I need---time, and I don’t want to break up, but if that’s what this is to you, then----I don’t know what to tell you. I have to go before I lose my mind completely.”

Delilah’s mouth snapped shut at his words. She have never heard him raise his voice before, not that he really had ever had a reason to before. Guilt swallowed her as she slowly realized that she had misunderstood what he was saying, that he just meant he couldn’t stay. She had panicked at everything else he had said along with it. All she could focus on was ’I can’t risk---I can’t go through that again.’. What was she supposed to think? Other than he thought that she was going to leave him.

“No, that’s not what this is, I don’t want--- I just---” She stumbled over her words taking a small step back.

She just didn’t get it, she didn’t understand why he would want to be alone. It made no sense to her, dealing with something like this by yourself when you had someone to turn to.

“I just-- its--okay.” What was she supposed to say? Clearly she was doing a horrible job at being supportive, this somehow whirling into some sort of argument. For what, just because she didn’t want him to leave? What a fantastic girlfriend she was. No wonder Matt-- Delilah forcing the thought to stop. That sort of line of thought is what started this mess in the first place. “You should go then,” she sighed, wrapping her arms around herself. “Go figure things out, I’ll just-- I’ll be here.”

Guests of the PENNIFOLDS!

valesco.mods@gmail.com — Sat, 21 Jun 2014 18:51:40 GMT

She could honestly say that she had not been happier in her life. Today, it marked the official beginning to the rest of her days, and Graciela Pennifold was grateful for all that God had brought her. Edward was a literal dream come true, Zacharias was growing into such a smart, charismatic young man, and her friends and family loved their little family enough to venture out to her homeland of Portugal to celebrate their wedding.

Their wedding! It had been a long time coming, but they were here, she and Edward were now husband and wife. The Pennifolds! She would never get tired of it, never. As she fluttered happily between the tables of guests and managing to not trip on the skirt of her dress, Graciela's smile could not falter. Switching from English, to Portuguese, to even a little Spanish, Graciela's mind was a whirl of joy and excitement. There was dancing, twirling, laughing, and kisses on top of kisses.

Graciela had never been happier.

After a particularly big twirl out of her brother's arms, Graciela's trajectory sent her straight to Edward. Her husband. She laughed in excitement at the sight of him and of course greeted him with a kiss, which was accompanied by hoots and hollers and clinking champagne glasses.

"Casamento fica bem em você," she murmured, having been lost in her native tongue. She hung her arms lazily over his shoulders and Graciela scrunched her nose, "Marriage looks very good on you, meu amor.

ooc; tentative guest list!

valesco.mods@gmail.com — Sat, 21 Jun 2014 03:20:13 GMT

WHO: Oliver Comstock and Nona Pepper
WHAT: FEELS
WHERE: ITALY
WHEN: LIKE TWO MONTHS AGO I'M SO SORRY

After spending an established number of cool nights sleeping on the roof, it was a curious development that Ollie found himself relishing the warm comfort of his own bed. He had been steadfast determined to stay above and away from the rooms below filled with people, and expressed his deep sentiments with Jake alone that only an extreme force of nature would be able to tear him away from the untroubled Venetian sun. He would stay up here, high up here, until the people that made him want to retreat from his own home disappeared.

He should have known that Nona Pepper absolutely counted as a force of nature, and it would only be a matter of time until she interrupted his hazed denial of reality.

Ollie couldn’t help it, once again he questioned the reality displayed before him. Had last night really…? And was she truly…? It felt like he could barely grapple with the memory… finding it too difficult, for not the first time upon waking up, Ollie gave up on trying to determine if this was a drug-induced pseudo-reality or not. It would not be the first time he dreamed of opening his eyes to the slumbering form of Nona Pepper beside him.

If only life could be contained to moments like this--- experiences pressed on the uncertain bubble that was no doubt going to eventually burst. But there were still a few minutes left now, before he could wake up and ruin the dull content fog in the air. He sighed.

Taking the hand resting under the cuff of his ear, Ollie gently pressed his mouth to those fingertips. Her skin felt soft and warm against his lips. “What a strange dream,” Ollie murmured idly, and closed his eyes again.

Nona was fairly certain this was not the bed she had become accustomed to sleeping in for the last two nights, but that didn't bother her so much. Two nights was not a very long time to become adjusted to anything, after all. It certainly was not enough time to become accustomed to the merciless sun or stifling humidity.

It was a little more troubling to her that she was having yet another dream about Oliver Comstock. Nona had possibly not stopped to listen to the full details of her cousin's jaunt, only the words "Italy" and "vacation" and demanded that he take her (and her two housemates) with him immediately, so her discovering that their home for the next however many days belonged to… well, to say the least, the father of her unknown child, was disconcerting to say the least. But the three witches, all seemingly outrunning some demon or the other of their own, threw themselves into sightseeing and experiencing Venetian life to its fullest, which left shockingly little time for brooding of confrontations with ex-paramours.

She sighed heavily, as prickles of wakefulness pierced her feeling of contentment which only meant the inevitable acknowledgment that this was just a dream, and not one that would remain good for much longer, if it lasted.

Then she felt brushes against her fingertips, unusual warmth curved around her. She could hear his quiet voice. And though her face remained smooth and just beginning to rouse from sleep, she gave the impression of a crinkled forehead. "That's not usually what you say in dreams," she said in a voice soft and hoarse from sleep.

Ollie laughed, his voice breathy and light. Even here she was set on dashing his happiness. Even in his dreams Nona Pepper was determined to destroy his hope. Shouldn’t he have learned by now?

Tilting his head, Ollie ran his face within her palm. It felt perfect, and he thought how much he would miss the feeling of how her skin felt against his. Surely this vision wasn’t meant to last much longer, but the greatest small part of him hoped it would go on forever.

Even if it meant having to eternally endure her invalidation.

Just a few more moments now.

Wholly unwilling to resist her, Ollive conceded fully, and spoke easily. “You would know, with how you frequent mine,” he murmured, certainly understanding the irony. He chuckled again, and breathed deeply into her hand. It smelled like curiosity and rain.

She had a sensation of wrongness swell over her as she lay in the bed. Perhaps not of wrongness, but of caution, and wariness.

And Nona wondered when Ollie had ever held her hand in her dreams before, when he had ever said anything more than just revealing his disgust for her and leaving her alone, sad and unloved and humiliated.

The idea that that part of the dream may still be coming was very unbearable.

Yet, as more of her surroundings swam in, as she saw the sleepy sun grow brighter, Nona had the curious feeling of being awake, but not being in control of herself. She felt like a visitor.

"Is this your dream or mine?" she asked, feeling the coarse growth of hair on his face rake against her hand.

He stopped, a bit of awareness beginning to percolate his conscious. What an entirely strange question. Of course it was his, his dreams always flitted here. Perhaps in different ways, with different settings, but always with the same feeling of serene acceptance. Why would she suggest otherwise?

Ollie breathed in deeply again, and his eyes now fluttered between opening and closing. Were they testing the realm of possibility before them? He felt the hair on the back of his neck begin to rise, and for the first time, noticed the humid breeze curling up his bare back every couple of moments.

Had last night really…? And was she truly…? Was it even…? His mind crawled forward, moving at a slug’s pace until all of the sudden, realization slammed forward. His eyelids split apart, and a complex combination of intense dread and indescribable pleasure filled him. He remembered, it was her, he had been out of his mind, possibly still was, when she had come up to the roof, and then---

This was real. It wasn’t some dream, some escape, some concoction of his conscious but a thing, a moment still currently playing out----

Immediately, he felt scared, and unwilling, to bring her attention to this news. She would leave, he knew she would, and only after putting up a bitter fight. But the tensing in his muscles and the motionless manner he now currently held himself was telling, and he grappled miserably with his next words. Swallowing, his voice came out heavy and sad when Ollie spoke.

“Neither. Neither, Nona.”

Unable to do it himself, he waited for her to eventually pull her hand away.

She listened to his answered with half an ear, but then—neither of them were dreaming?

Her hand stilled on his face, as Nona tried to recall last night. Bits and pieces came to her, mostly of skin. Of seeing it, feeling it, running her—

Well, that part certainly hadn't been a dream. Even though that, all of this, felt wholly unreal.

She wondered how they had even been in the same room at the same time, much less spent the night together. Nona had only glanced Ollie briefly when she and her housemates had arrived in his home, and the three girls had ensured they spent as little time in the house as possible. Had all this just been… a drunken mistake?

Though Nona didn't feel hungover, and, even so, she so rarely imbibed. No, she felt… content. Or had. She felt heavy in a sleepy way, sluggish, but not unpleasantly so.

This wasn't a dream. But he hadn't left yet, had he? She'd been awake this whole time, and he hadn't left. Even though he sounded so… resigned.

"Oh," she said, sounding very small, suddenly feeling so tired she could not bring herself to lift her hand or roll away, even if Ollie wished it.

Oh? Oh. Just ‘oh’. Even it being the smallest word, the tiniest form of indication, it gave him the greatest installation of hope. It wasn’t a shrivel away, it wasn’t a sharp collect of words pointed at his heart, but something… that did not immediately break him. In those few quiet moments, his pathetic hopes ran as high as the sky before a sobering acceptance brought them crashing down. Was it insanity to do the same act over and over again and expect different results? Or important to never stop fighting for the one person that meant the most?

Ollie squeezed his eyes shut, taking the still moment blooming between them to think. He wanted, painfully so, for things to be easy. It could, he knew it could, they could be easy, but---

Frowning, his brow furrowed even deeper in confused reservation. It would be for the best to detangle himself from her as seamlessly as possible. It would be less painful to forget the last twelve hours, return to his island on the roof and spend the longest days of his life up there. It would be paramount to forget about her, forget his feelings for her and---

“Don’t go,” Ollie blurted, honestly earnest. Again, his eyes snapped open and instead of watching the ceiling, he finally turned to look at her. His chest grew a painful strength as he realized, quickly, that giving up would never be the right option.

“I love you.” His words were ripe with purpose. “Don’t leave. Be here.”

The words felt like a hammer's blow to her heart. They robbed her of breath, and of sense, and she stared at him blankly as the seconds ticked by.

Had he uttered those words to her, truly? Words Nona had said, albeit in anger and desperation, but had never been returned. Words she then deeply regretted saying, unsure how her guard had been let down enough to allow them to escape from her mouth. He hadn't given her what she'd wanted or needed then, hadn't let them start over as she wished. Ollie certainly hadn't returned her sentiment, not in anger, sadness, or any other emotion.

Suddenly, Nona felt very vulnerable, as if it mattered now, for the first time in ten minutes, that she didn't wear a stitch under the covers.

"You don't mean that," she whispered to the ceiling. Then she turned her head so their faces were just a breath apart. "Do you?"

Did he? She had to know, had to press and needle him, because she didn't believe him. Didn't know if she could let herself believe him.

He felt himself halt. Again, a warm breeze swept through the window that crawled up his spine and made his hair stand on end, though it barely interrupted his thoughts. She didn’t believe him? How could she possibly...? For a brief moment, a flash of confused disbelief appeared on Ollie’s face. But as soon as it appeared, it washed away to make room for calm understanding.

She was just simply in need of a gentle reminder.

Taking his time, Ollie took advantage of her close proximity and gazed at Nona. Her mouth, the lone strand of hair that had fallen across her forehead, the freckles cascading down her nose, her eyes--- the ends of his mouth curled into a wispy smile.

Easily, as if it was the easiest motion in the world, Ollie shifted to sit up, briefly cupping the side of Nona’s face before taking her one hand into both of his. Delicately he held her, looking down at their intertwined hands before his gaze flitted back.

“Of course,” he murmured, letting out an untroubled sigh. “Of course I love you.” Leaning forward now, they were close again, but not in a way that he hovered. “Always.”

Ollie smiled again, feeling for the first time in a while a great lightness within him. Speaking quietly, his next words were more rhetorical than anything. It was not important that she answered, but simply remembered. “Do you remember what I gave you for your birthday seventh year?”

"I don't think I could forget it," Nona told him honestly, as she had tried many times to forget that book of memories over the years and had failed every time. It was hidden now in Tertia's attic, something she had never been able to destroy, but something that had hurt much too much to keep with her on travels over the years.

Still, she could recall each page with precision. It had been beautiful, and touching, and strange, for there were parts of it she could not understand with her logically-minded brain, yet still appealed to whimsical and dreamy sides of her she never knew existed unless she was with Oliver.

Her heart still thumped unsteadily as she regarded him looking still and peaceful in the morning light, his words still echoing in her ears, as if they were being held there until she could accept them without reservation.

Nona turned on her side and propped her head up with one hand, still holding the covers to her front. "What of it?" asked Nona curiously.

His mind felt light, like apart of his head had become unattached from his shoulders and had floated away into the morning air. This was real; they were not fighting, or ignoring each other, or attempting to speak in ways that the other could not understand, but in soft, honest tones that reminded him of how they used to be.

Was he truly sure this wasn’t a dream?

“I could create a new one with how I feel about you now,” Ollie professed, nodding in just the slightest of ways. If he focused, he could probably recount each page of the old one for her, but at the risk of being sappy, he refrained. Instead, he continued to smile and stare at Nona’s face. “It would be better. There would be more complex and beautiful passages in it. And color. Much more color.”

His lips parted, and in something of an embarrassed gesture, Ollie tucked his ear to his shoulder. He kept a steady grip on her as he spoke next, and decided to wait for her answer before moving to kiss her. “Is that alright?” he asked.

Nona simply nodded and kissed Ollie instead, content to curl up next to him and listen to his steady breathing and his poetic visions of their future, and begin a new chapter in their story.

Penelope!

valesco.mods@gmail.com — Sat, 21 Jun 2014 03:03:09 GMT

He felt quite smug, and attempted to wipe the look off his face before he knocked on Penelope's door. It was a very hard thing for Louis Bonaccord to do when he was particularly pleased with himself, so Penelope should be quite impressed with him if he managed to look nonchalant. It was her birthday and Louis had spent most of the time he was should have been devoting to reports this past week to plotting out her evening. Their evening. Penelope's evening.

But he was coming to find that having your first date be a trip to New York, to Times Square on New Year's Eve of all bloody days, managed to make it difficult to try and think of something better. Penelope had come out for his birthday and he had thoroughly enjoyed her company, but he didn't think that a wild, world cup-frantic pub was something that she would imagine for her own birthday celebrations.

In a moment of sheer genius, Louis had figured it out. He hoped so. He believed he had, and wondered if it was the fact that he was now knocking on her front door that his confidence was wavering. This had better work. He and Adian had worked their tails off.

The front door opened and he grinned, and he cocked his head slightly as he said, "Happy birthday, Penelope. Are you ready for your trip around the world?"

valesco.mods@gmail.com — Fri, 20 Jun 2014 23:31:53 GMT

WHO: Cameron Montgomery & Nicola Scarpin!
WHAT: LAMB CHOPS!!
WHEN: now!
WHERE: outside!

Cameron adjusted the bag on his shoulder, waiting patiently for Nicola to come to the door. She probably wasn’t prepared to receive guests so was rushing about the house to make sure she was presentable. The thought that she wouldn’t take kindly to him just showing up at her door unannounced didn’t cross his mind. Well, it did, but he found that he really didn’t care all that much. It amused him, how concerned she was about etiquette.

Not that he was ignorant to proper etiquette, he just didn’t bother with it in day to day life. He was much too fond of his denim jeans and boots to give them up for fancy dress robes and dinner parties.

“Hello,” he grinned brightly when the door opened, holding out the haphazard bouquet of sunflowers he had gathered from an overgrown garden bed in the park he walked through. He couldn’t just walk past them when they reminded him so much of home. Just the flower to brighten anyones day. “I was hoping to steal you away for the afternoon, if you're not too terribly busy.”

Nicola cooed at the flowers, their beauty immediately erasing whatever mild leftover vexes she may have had prior to opening the front door. They weren’t hydrangeas, of course, but flowers were flowers after all, and any token of Cameron’s affection Nicola would not turn away. Or, at least, material affection.

Her brows popped up at the mention of an impromptu afternoon, and she felt herself lucky that most of her face was hidden behind her bouquet. She wasn’t incredibly busy for the rest of the day, that was true, but more importantly it was a bit, well… improper to drop the rest of the day to do who knew what. It wasn’t very ladylike was it? Get togethers, they had to be planned in advance, with both parties privy to the event being shared in question.

But Cameron had brought over flowers, and even though she was keenly looking at his face, Nicola had glanced at the bigger bag under his shoulder with interest. He had obviously planned for something. It would be rude to turn down a planned surprise.

Plus, even as quiet as she tried to keep it within, Nicola really could not deny that she had been wanting to spend more and more time with Cameron. Him showing up at her door made her heart race and her eyes gleam wide.

“I may be available for a bit,” Nicola responded coyly, and leaned in again to smell her new flowers. “Do you have something in mind?”

“I do.” Cameron allowed vaguely after a small hum. He didn’t let himself be too pleased with the the small victory of her not being busy. The tricky part was convincing her to come along with him without revealing what his plans were. Leaning slightly, he tried to get a view of her expression behind the flowers.

She seemed pleased enough with the gesture, at the very least she hadn’t closed the door in his face. Giving her a small smile, he swung his bag around to his front, opening just enough that he could see inside, but Nicola could not. He did his best not to smirk as he purposefully shifted items around for no reason at all, other to garner the girls interest. “Sorry, I thought for a moment I might have forgotten something.” he said innocently as he zipped up the bag and shifted it back over his shoulder.

Cameron looked at his watch quickly before holding his arm out to Nicola. “I do have this spectacular adventure planned, but time is of the essence. Would you like to join me?”

Nicola clutched her flowers tight, honestly torn about the decision before her. Cameron had showed up at her door with a bag full of surprises asking to whisk her away onto an unknown adventure. And she wanted to go, she thought, but a loud booming voice in her head said that doing so wasn’t proper, what would her peers think? It wouldn’t be right.

Winnie no doubt, Nicola thought sourly, would give her a cauldron’s full of judgement if she ever caught wind of an impromptu escape.

Then again, at least Nicola could say she had a proper suitor unlike other certain people who had none at all…

She watched Cameron dabble into his bag greedily, hoping it would give her a sign as to what exactly he was planning. Maybe, perhaps, if she had a bit of a better idea then she could more easily make a decision. Inclining her chin up ever so slightly, she didn’t pick up her gaze enough before he swung the bag into place. The slightest hint of a pout formed on her lips, though it was quickly washed away by his final offer.

Her eyes jumped from his face, to his extended arm, and then back to his face. If anything Nicola knew it would be incredibly improper to make him wait even a second longer, so taking a leap of faith, she slipped her arm around his. “I would,” she smiled brightly, taking only a second to swish her door shut with her wand. “But you must give me a hint about where we are going, I insist!”

“Must I?” Cameron teased, his dimples deepening as her arm slipped in with his. This was his grand success, he had her out the door, closed behind her. She may be insisting on a hint, but he knew he had her. “Well, you could say I’ve already given you one.” He offered tapping the head of a sunflower in his bouquet.

“Ready?” he asked waiting for a nod before turning on the spot. Taking a moment to make sure that his date had adjusted to the sudden change of venue, he gestured vaguely to the large manor behind them. “The Scabior Estate. Not where we are going, but I figured I’d point it out since it’s technically mine.” He shrugged a shoulder lightly. He didn’t live there, in fact he’d only been here a handful of times. But the last time he had been here, he had stumbled across something worthwhile in his wandering. Leading Nicola down the street away from the house, he talked about how the only nice thing about this area was how the houses tended to remind him of the plantation homes back home, except not quite as grand. Finally they took a sharp left walking through the yard of a house a few down from his. “Let’s move quickly, shall we?” he murmured quietly. Keeping one on eye on the building until they were far enough along that they were out of sight, stopping only when they reach an ivy covered wall.

Pulling the ivy away, he revealed a cast iron door he chanced a look back at Nicola. Pushing on the door, he had planned for it to swing open in a grand gesture to show her what was on the other side. Instead, he nearly walked into it, as it didn’t budge from its spot. Locked. Of course it was. He started digging through his pockets sheepishly. “Oh, er, just a second. Sorry.”

Her mouth dropped open slightly at the grand manor, glancing back at it over her shoulder as Cameron led her away from it. The estate certainly lived up to its namesake; it was beautiful and domineering, but also incredibly cold. She supposed that could have been from the lack of people inhabiting it, but something told Nicola that wasn’t the case. The Scabiors had never had a pleasant reputation, and from what Cameron had told her of his treatment of him, it did not surprise her that their house looked uninviting as they had.

“I do quite like English architecture, it reminds me of---” Nicola began, thinking she would bring up how it reminded of ancient buildings when Cameron unceremoniously cut her off.

“Whose house is this?” she asked immediately, noting how uniquely grassy their path had become. “Do you know this family?” Nicola pressed further, glancing over her shoulder at the far away manor. But Cameron kept her at a quick pace, and before she knew what was happening, they stopped before an ivy-covered door.

“Cameron,” she pleaded for an answer, now feeling significantly less positive about her decision to let him sweep her away moments ago. Now she had no idea where she was, what she was doing, and was possibly breaking onto private property.

“Cameron!” Nicola squeaked, and her hands flew to her mouth. The sound of his body hitting the iron made the door clang significantly, and she tried her very best not to break out into the sweats. Did he even have the key? “What is going on? Where are we? Are you---”

He couldn’t help the corner of his lips quirking up as her voice quickly rose octaves, cute as it was, he really didn’t want to get caught. Holding a finger to her lips, he shushed her quickly as his fingers finally found purchase on what he was searching for. “Don’t worry, I have a key.” Cameron said confidently, letting the key swing from its chain in front of her before turning his attention back to the door hoping that having a key would ease her concerns.

Nicola certainly didn’t need to know the key was technically stolen. Though stolen was such a harsh word. What did you to expect to happen if you left keys hanging in a tool shed? And the state of the ivy covering the door when he first found it, Cameron assumed that it had been unused for years. Which was a crime in itself, really. Sheer dumb luck had him finding this place, and a bit thievery, but it was worth it.

After a few moments of fiddling with the key, he finally got the door to swing open squeaking on its hinges. “Tada!” Cameron gestured pretending he hadn’t just walked into the door moments before. With just the slightest of coaxing he got Nicola to walk through the door, trailing closely behind. To say the garden was a bit overgrown was an understatement. But it was overgrown with wildflowers everywhere, and flowers that had been planted yet survived despite being neglected for so long.

When she stopped moving, he walked past and tried to find a spot with the least amount of flowers before dropping his bag to the ground and pulling out a blanket, spreading out carefully before settling down. “Hungry?” he asked pulling items out of his bag creating place settings in the middle of the blanket.

“I don’t think---” she protested straightaway, attempting to dig her heels into the grass as much as possible without potentially ruining them. “We probably shouldn’t--- I don’t feel comfortable---” But her voice of concern was lost, and soon she was walking through the gate they were clearly trespassing and inside within which was---

Entirely beautiful.

Nicola stood stock still, overwhelmed by the image before her. There were so many flowers everywhere, and as if apart of it all, she clung significantly to her own flowers in her hands. This was--- she really---

Was he expecting her to sit on that blanket?

A snap of distasteful reality hit her, and for the first time one of Nicola’s brows rose in aversion. She most certainly could not sit on the ground. “I can’t sit on that,” she stated primly, most certainly turning her gaze up and away from the food Cameron was setting out. Whether it looked delicious or not was irrelevant, sitting on a thin blanket with these robes would simply be impossible.

Cameron quirked a brow back at Nicola, looking from her to the blanket and back again. “No?” He asked simply taking a bite of a strawberry. He waited her out a moment, and when it was clear she wasn’t making any move towards joining him, Cameron pushed himself to his feet and made his way to stand next to Nicola. He looked to the blanket wrinkling his nose trying to figure out the real issue.

“Strawberry?” he offered holding the container out to her, looking to her from the corner of his eye. Pulling out a berry of his own he turned his attention back to the offending picnic. Eating his fruit, he put on a sincere act of trying to figure out what the issue was and how to fix it. Chewing thoughtfully, Cameron hummed. “Is it the fact that its a blanket? Or is it the fact that its on the ground? If it is the fact that it is on the ground then--”

Cameron pulled out his wand, looking up as he tried to recall the spell. He wasn’t so great at transfiguration, but charms. Charms he could do. With a quick swish and a flick, and he had the blanket hovering just above all of the flowers. He couldn’t help the cheesy grin that crossed his face, pleased with his charmwork. “--Then I can do that. Does that work?”

Nicola graced one lone gaze down toward Cameron’s floating blanket. It was an improvement, definitely, but she still wasn’t sure about the whole thing. Whose garden was this? Had she just unknowingly trespassed on private property? Cameron had offered her very little answers, and while this effort was very sweet and thoughtful, she still wasn’t quite so sure about how proper and official it all was.

“Whose garden is this?” she asked suddenly, turning to face him. Nicola looked up at Cameron with a determined resilience. “Did they give you the key?”

She twirled, deciding she had become far too close to him, and moved away to further inspect Cameron’s improvements. Poking the floating blanket inquisitively, and deciding that it was in fact sturdy enough, Nicola promptly perched herself on the edge of it. Crossing her arms over her chest (and tucking her ankles underneath each other), she looked at Cameron expectantly.

“The charm is very nice,” she offered, though her extended chin and strict tone didn’t lend much forgiveness.

Cameron hadn’t even realized how close they were standing until she was staring up at him demanding answers. Answers that weren’t even important, honestly he couldn’t think of anything to say. He was too busy just looking at her, standing there clutching her sunflowers in a garden full of wild flowers. And how perfect did that sight look. Nicola certainly belonged in such a surrounding. Now the only thought that crossed his mind was how just maybe, if he leaned in ever so slightly, he could---

And then she was gone. It took a moment for him to catch up to what had happened, that she was now over by the blanket and no longer standing right next to him. Cameron should have know better than to expect that to be easy. “Thanks, sometimes I surprise myself,” he grinned taking up a seat next to his date.

The silence stretched on, and he could tell that her stubbornness wasn’t going to let her questions go without some sort of response. He kept her gaze though, his smile growing with each passing moment. Until finally, he couldn’t help himself anymore. He had reached the point where he just had to know how she would react. Leaning over he stole a quick, gentle kiss. “Don’t worry,” he said as he pulled back from her, giving himself a moment to let his gaze linger. “I won’t get you into any trouble. Not today anyways.”

Leaning back on the blanket, Cameron reached into his bag to pull out the rest of their picnic. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I brought a variety. Help yourself to whatever, though I’m going to have to insist you at least try the sweet tea. It’s the most refreshing drink you could possibly have on a day like today.”

She didn’t--- she--- she--- she didn’t know what to think first! Focus on Cameron’s nonchalant manner, the fact that he had quite suavely stolen a kiss from her, that he wanted her to try cold tea, or the indirect confirmation that they were, in fact, breaking and entering on private property! This was far too--- she absolutely wasn’t--- how in the--- it felt like she was going to pass out.

And don’t think she’d forgotten about his pressed finger to her lips either!

Nicola’s stick-straight back stayed thus, as she felt quite frozen in shock. She had growing affection for Cameron, she did, but this was most certainly not how one would treat a high-society lady such as herself. Her face turned redder by the second, and she was thankful she had something to hold onto to steady herself. He wouldn’t let her get into any trouble? Oh, well then, he most certainly should be worrying more about himself. Only her eyes moved as she glanced over at Cameron, only his lower torso in view. After a few moments, she covered her mouth with her hand and stood up.

And then, before she could think much more of it, with a quick flick of her wand, the hovering charm Cameron had placed on the blanket was gone. She only heard his body hit the ground with a heavy ‘oof!’ for immediately after casting the spell she had closed her eyes and stuck her chin up into the air.

“I do not appreciate your forwardness,” she sniffed, and with a couple of seconds, peaked one eye open to make sure that Cameron had not broken his back or anything of the sort in the fall.

The sudden drop to the ground was the last thing he had expected, the mason jar of tea he had been pulling out his bag shattered as he dropped into the other one. Well so much for tea. Brightside, he had found just where ‘too far’ was. Though he wasn’t quite sure how to recover from here.

“Sorry,” he said sitting up, holding out his hands innocently, before quickly shoving his left one into the blanket with a small wince when he realized he was bleeding. He supposed broken glass would do such a thing, though that was not what was important at the moment. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. Actually, I was. Thinking, about you, and how pretty you are. And nice, I just--- it’s really distracting, you know. Who’d of thought I’d be so lucky? I forgot this was only our second date.”

He navigated the broken glass carefully, pulling a thermos out of his bag. “Please forgive me? I have hot tea too?” He offered holding out the charmed container. “I had a cup but I have a feeling it may be broken now, too, as I kind of fell on my bag.”

Both her eyes opened at the sound of breaking glass and Nicola lowered her inclined chin. Her brow furrowed at the quick glance of blood, her disgruntled nature quickly disappearing to make room for unadulterated remorse. She most certainly had not meant to hurt him, just bruise his ego. And maybe his bum. But even that she was beginning to regret, for he had a very nice bum that hadn’t really any part in her egregious attack.

Pulling out her wand, Nicola approached Cameron. Sitting down on her knees, she placed her flowers on the ground beside her so that she could take his hand. “I’m sorry,” she apologized, her face still flushed from his words. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Her words came out quiet, and she tried her very best to clean and patch up his hand.

Content only when it was as good as new (perhaps at one point she had Healer aspirations), Nicola rested her palms on her knees and was surprised to look up and see that he was still holding out a large container of presumably hot tea. Her lips pressed together in an amused manner.

“You Americans,” she sighed, and took it from him. Her face still felt hot, so Nicola lowered her chin to help hide her blush. “Eternally pushy.”

After a beat, she quietly confessed, “I don’t remember the charm to fix broken things.” The fact that she usually left those kind of problems to her cleaning witch was besides the point. Nicola continued in a low tone. “But when I do I’ll fix your cups.”

Cameron smiled when she took the tea from him, thanking her for healing his hand. He took a moment to admire her spell work. Much better than he would have managed. "An unfortunate side effect of being taught from a young age that you can have anything in the world as long as you try hard enough for it."

Waving off her offer to fix the broken cup, Cameron leaned back on his elbows enjoying just sitting in the sun. "Don't worry about it. I didn't like 'em much anyways
. Got it from the manor because I thought you'd like to have your drink in a proper cup."

Looking inside his bag, he deemed most of it a lost cause. Not that it matter, he didn't have anything of value in there. His whole goal was to spend time with Nicola so as far as he was concerned, nothing had been ruined. "Its fine," Cameron assured her when she still seemed a bit unsure. "I'm having a great afternoon. I hope you are having one too?"

She clutched the container close to her chest and nodded. Of course, of course she was having a nice afternoon. Her recent actions may not explicitly convey otherwise, but she always enjoyed spending time with Cameron. Perhaps they had to a bit of adjusting to do to take into account their cultural differences, but that didn’t mean she didn’t enjoy being around him.

In the sun, Nicola rose her hand to shield her eyes. Down on the ground the wildflowers were quite high, high enough that if you laid down they would most certainly tower over you. Pressing her lips together, she found herself secretly wishing to do the thing she had so vehemently been against moments ago.

The American Effect, that’s what that was.

Continuing to keep her tea close (with no intent at the moment to actually drink it), Nicola quietly shifted off her knees. Without so much as an indication, she easily curled to the ground, resting mostly on her side but making sure to prop the back of her head against the side of Cameron’s chest.

“I am,” she said, and looked up into the flowers and the sky. Nicola let out a content sigh, cradling her tea like it was the most important thing in the world that Cameron could have given her. It was, wasn’t it?

valesco.mods@gmail.com — Wed, 18 Jun 2014 04:27:36 GMT

WHO: Seth Wadcock & Michal Conway Lynch
WHAT: where have you been for the last three weeks Michal?
WHERE: SCOTTISH COUNTRYSIDE
WHEN: now!

Today was the first day that he was allowed visitors. They had to be screened, of course, and pre-approved by his Healer, but Michal knew he needn’t worry about that. The one, and only, person he wanted to see had been the one to check him into this rehabilitation center in the first place so surely, out of everyone, Seth Wadcock was going to get a pass. And if he wasn’t the first bloody person to walk through that door---

Michal closed his eyes, and took in a death breath. No, that anger was a bit misguided. He had been struggling for a while, and as much as he didn’t want to admit it, perhaps a bit of help was necessary to get better. This kind of extreme, expensive help he wasn’t sure he agreed with, but that was why Seth was getting owled all hospital bills, wasn’t he?

Adjusting the soft robes provided by the center, Michal waited patiently for the door to his room to open. Visiting hours had started fifteen minutes ago, and he wasn’t getting any younger here.

Seth had shown up on time, would have been walking into Michal’s room fifteen minutes ago if he hadn’t of gotten held up by the check-in desk for having ‘contraband’. Which was ridiculous, all he had was food. He figured if rehab food was anything like hospital food, his friend would appreciate the gesture of something that actually tasted decent. And it might also ease the whole awkward ‘so I checked you into rehab’ situation. Seth glowered as the security wizard whisked the cupcakes away tutting that he should know better. It wasn’t like he was sneaking in whiskey. Bastard was probably going to eat them himself.

Finally Seth made his way to Michal’s room, pausing momentarily at the door. At least he hadn’t been banned, certainly Michal had the power to say who could and couldn’t visit him and he took it as a good sign he was even let it. Though it could be so that he could be yelled at in person.

He knocked on the door slightly before turning the knob and poking his head around. “Hey.” he said lamely walking into the room. What were you suppose to say to the person you checked into rehab? Was there a proper etiquette to it? He took in the room, which was nice. As it should be for the amount of money he was paying for it. Eventually he ran out of things to look at and was forced to turn his attention back to Michal. Who looked multitudes better than the last time he had seen him. “I tried to bring you some decent food, but they confiscated it.”

His cheeks had puffed out, ready to form a disgruntled face, but upon seeing Seth they deflated. His friend looked guilty, and a bit uncomfortable, which Michal supposed he found acceptable. Appropriate? He sunk a bit further down into his chair, feeling a bit of guilt himself for having spent so many days deciding what item he would throw at Seth’s face when he saw him next.

“Sounds about right. They hate fun here,” Michal nodded in solemn agreement. Also the truth. You weren’t really allowed to do anything that promoted stress or reminded you of the outside world in this place, so things like exploding snap or setting off firecrackers in the middle of the night was frowned upon. Instead, there were walks in the garden, and reading books, and laying in the grass to watch clouds pass by for hours on end while you waited for your next potion. There were times that Michal enjoyed doing nothing, but other times that he really just wanted to break a chair or watch a Healer trip and fall into the pool.

“Look, Seth,” Michal began, despite having previously decided Seth would be doing all the talking. The growing silence between them was something neither had quite experienced before; he didn’t like it.

Michal pulled his lips back, and quickly rubbed his face with his hands. “I know that…” he began, but fell short. He kind of didn’t know a lot at this point. “I’m not---” he tried again, but found he wasn’t sure where to go with that either. Michal turned his head to rub under the back of his neck.

“I---”

“I’m---” Seth had been about to apologize when he realized he wasn’t sorry at all. He shoved his hands into his pockets hovering near the door. He could almost feel the silence feel the room. When had either of them ever struggled with their words? Neither of them were ever careful with their words to each other. “I was concerned. You had-- you said ‘I did a bad thing’ and then kinda flipped out on me before you just passed out drunk. At nine in the morning. That with everything else, and what Liddie had told me---” he trailed off shrugging his shoulders. “You stopped talking to me, and when we did it was always a fight. I didn’t know what was going on, or what else to do.”

Eventually he moved to settle into the chair next to Michal’s. He hated how awkward all this felt. Then again, he supposed that was a side effect of this particular decision. Michal looked better though. Seth was trying to remember the last time he actually saw his friend while he was sober.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t around more.” Seth said eventually. He had wanted to apologize for that ever since he showed up to Michal’s house weeks ago. If anyone was going to notice that Michal wasn’t being his usual asshole self, that this was something completely different, it should have been him. “I-- This--” He pursed his lips because sentimentality was a new thing for the two of them. “I should've known something was wrong months ago. I should have noticed.”

Michal frowned, and feeling relatively embarrassed, looked down at his hands. Unfortunately he couldn’t say he remembered much of the event in question that Seth was referring to. But, it didn’t exactly sound like something that wouldn’t have happened. He had been feeling… the last year had not been an easy one, and obviously, he had not handled it well at all.

He had been about to open his mouth and say everything wasn’t all Seth’s fault, but when his friend began to speak again, Michal hesitated. Perhaps he hadn’t realized…. how much Seth had took on by bringing him here, and it was with a guilty heart that Michal quickly moved on from his previous anger. Seth, and his sister, had only done what Michal had been incapable of doing for all those months. Was it his place to be angry with them?

Well, he supposed, they could’ve picked a group that was perhaps less peppy and more fun, but in-the-moment decisions weren’t based on that. Privacy and healing were.

He had been doing a lot of healing.

“It’s not--” Michal began, playing with his hands. He stopped fiddling with them, and dropped them to his sides completely. “It’s not your fault. I need help. You did the right thing bringing me here, and no one’s died from it so---”

His face twitched, and Michal immediately wished he hadn’t used that word. He finally looked up at Seth, resting his chin on his own shoulder. “It’s not your fault,” Michal reaffirmed.

Seth nodded along to Michal’s words, relief rushing over him. Not that he suddenly felt it was okay that he didn’t notice, no that still wasn’t acceptable. But the concern he had over Michal being upset over this, not talking to him, hating him--- that worry almost consumed him the last few weeks. He didn’t know what he would do if Michal legitimately stopped talking to him. “Right.” Seth said a bit awkwardly. “Well, I’m glad you are doing better. You seem better. And I’ll be here, whenever. Next time I’ll try harder with sneaking in food.”

He wanted to ask. He wanted to know what had caused all of this. Why his friend flinched at the mention no one dying, but asking questions--- well now really wasn’t the time to pry. He was certain that Michal would share with him when he was ready. “They were so concerned about the cupcakes, they didn’t notice the exploding snap cards I brought with me,” he offered digging the deck out of his pocket, holding them out to his friend. “Fancy a game?”

Michal’s face lit up, and he immediately scrambled to put between them a makeshift table.

“Yeah?” he threw over his shoulder, already tugging over their playboard. He pulled over a short, round ottoman from the corner of the room, thinking it would be the easiest piece of furniture he definitely wouldn’t mind catching on fire. Pushing it in between his and Seth’s chairs, he flopped back down into his with a small, pressed smile.

Touching his own face, he pushed his fingers into his cheeks. “Do I look like less of an alcoholic now?” Michal asked, finding that the only way he’d found to deal with his current life was through inappropriate humor. His healer disapproved, of course, but Michal had never been the star of anything so why anyone thought he would be one now was ridiculous.

“Go on then,” he encouraged, waving his hands vaguely between them. Seth had no idea how boring life was when all you had to do was sit around quietly and think about things. Sometimes a wizard just wanted to have a bunch of cards inexplicably explode in his face.

valesco.mods@gmail.com — Mon, 16 Jun 2014 02:33:01 GMT

WHO: Matt Summerby and his house guests
WHAT: Stuff. Things.
WHERE: His house
WHEN: Tonight

It had been a long few days. His fight with Delilah, if you could call it that, weighed heavily on Matt's shoulders. He wasn't angry, he didn't think. He felt overwhelmed with the media swarm that had immediately sprung around him, he was upset that she had lied to him about her feelings toward his brother and----it hurt. Now he didn't know what to think, about Delilah, about...it made him wonder how Odette and Drystan really felt, or even how he felt himself. Was he blinded by happiness? Was he really moving too fast?

This was his brother. Caleb was his family, his only family. That's all Matt had ever wanted, for his family to be together again. He had not told Caleb about Delilah, or anything else for that matter, but it felt like his brother had been on edge ever since. Maybe Matt wasn't hiding his conflict as well as he had thought, and it drove him mad to think that this could be ruined. How could he risk---

---Matt groaned as the not-so-soft pillow strike from his brother whacked him in the side of the face.

“Thanks, for that!” he let out, managing to snatch the pillow from his brother’s hands. Caleb laughed and jumped back, hitting the back of his legs on the coffee table.

“Yeah, well, I owe you for getting that girl to high-tail it out of the pub.”

“She was not a girl, she was at least forty,” Matt argued, shaking a finger at his brother. The night had been full of laughter; it was a good night and Matt wanted more of them. Caleb shook his head and sat on the edge of the wooden table. “I couldn’t let my brother go home with that---what’s wrong with your face?”

“Sorry I’m not as pretty as you---” Caleb began, but Matt had already pushed himself up off the couch and grabbed hold of his brother’s chin.

“No--you look like you’re having a stroke!” Matt exclaimed, eyes wide. The left side of Caleb’s face looked like it had gone numb and lopsided. He patted his brother’s cheek, but the tips of his fingers stuck to his skin. It was like Caleb was…”You’re melting?!”

Matt pulled his hands away and stepped back. How drunk was he? He’d only had a few---Caleb jumped to his feet and rushed out of the living room, grabbing at his face and hair.

“CALEB!” Matt shouted, running after him. The door to the bathroom slammed, but he couldn’t just let his brother disappear. He stood outside the door of the bathroom, his heart racing. ”What the hell is going on?”

“It’s--it’s nothing! It’s nothing! I---” his brother’s voice shouted through the door. It seemed strangled and deeper, as if he was struggling to breathe. Matt hesitated for less than a second before slamming his shoulder into the door and knocking it off its hinges.

“What the fuck is going on?!” Matt shouted finding Caleb crouched and turned away from him in the corner of the bathroom. “Caleb, what did you have on your face, what---your hair---it’s---”

His brother suddenly wasn’t blonde anymore. His stringy blonde hair was shortening, almost like it was shrinking back into his head and turning black. Matt felt dizzy with his heavy breaths, he was so confused, this couldn’t be real---his hand gripped the frame of the door.

“You’re charmed,” he managed, watching Caleb’s shoulders broaden. It was only magic that could have changed his appearance, it wasn’t a trick of the mind, it wasn’t him being too drunk. Matt took a step back, trying to figure out if he could get to the wand he’d hidden in his bedroom. His heartbeat was pounding in his ears, no, no, no.

Caleb, or---or whoever it was, stood and turned around to face him. Matt’s jaw clenched at the smirk on the other man’s face. He was completely unrecognizable, someone he didn’t know, had never seen before, didn’t trust.

“Polyjuice, actually. A variation.” The man cracked his knuckles and let out a laugh. “Guess the jig is up.”

Matt was shaking, every part of him was shaking. All this time, it hadn’t been his long lost brother, but some----some low life criminal in disguise. A bloody---Matt had noticed that he’d been misplacing things, small things, money in particular, but it hadn’t been---This person had been living under the guise of his brother, had pushed himself into Matt’s life in every aspect. He’d trusted him.

Matt had loved him.

Before he could think Matt hurled himself at the man, slamming him into the tiled wall. They wrestled, and in the struggle somehow Matt managed to get the upper-hand. He had never understood the saying ‘blinded with rage,’ but his vision blurred, his senses went numb because he could only hear but not feel the bones cracking under his knuckles as he pummeled his fist into the man’s face. There was some sound in the distance, like doors slamming and shouts, but Matt didn’t pay them any mind. All he wanted to do was smash the face off of this impostor, this face that was not Caleb's.

"Stop! You're gonna kill him!"

Matt held his fist up as he turned around to see John, 'Caleb's roommate,' standing in the doorway. His wand was out, but he shaking terribly. How had he gotten in? Wait--Matt knew the answer, of course, these two must have been conning him from the beginning. Matt stood up slowly, keeping his eyes locked on John. The blood from his knuckles dripped to the ground and Matt took in a few deep breaths.

"Get out," he growled, pointing toward the door. John faltered and attempted to straighten his wand arm. In a flash, Matt's wand had dislodged itself from his bedroom, zoomed through the air and into his outstretched palm. Hot, red sparks shot out of the end, "Get out!"

The man on the ground, the man that had once impersonated Caleb, groaned in pain. John lurched forward to help his accomplice up. Matt stepped out of the bathroom and strode down the hall, listening for the grunts and groans of the two men that had invaded his life. He stood just inside his bedroom door, ear keen to the sounds, and shut his eyes when the front door slammed shut. Silence filled the household and Matt slowly began to feel the throbbing of pain he'd endured and inflicted on himself.

What was he supposed to do now?

Geoffrey!

valesco.mods@gmail.com — Sun, 15 Jun 2014 15:08:27 GMT

Her hair was in a tight braid, she had on sunglasses that could work as mirrors with the way they reflected everything, and on top of her head was a low-brimmed hat.

Maggie did not want to be caught seen having this conversation with her brother. They had been in correspondence through owls and journal entries, but meetings like this had been few and far between. Geoff was basically a leper in the quidditch world, and while Maggie knew about the trouble he'd gotten himself into, it would be hard to explain to the league, the players she considered family, her own family...Merlin, her parents were out of their minds with worry, with disappointment, it---it wasn't a good place to be in.

But Geoffrey was her brother and he'd helped her out in more ways than she could remember. Maggie was sure she would be dead if it wasn't for his quick thinking and vase smashing on Braith Selwyn's head. She owed him, so she would meet up for him at the dank Hog's Head pub, even if she was deep in disguise.

"You couldn't have found a cleaner establishment?" Maggie said lowly as she wiped down the seat of her stool before sitting upon it. She frowned at Geoffrey, who looked worse for wear. Her expression softened. "How are you?"

William!

valesco.mods@gmail.com — Sun, 15 Jun 2014 01:22:33 GMT

One hundred sit-ups in two minutes, that's what was required.

Jake used to be able to hit his goal in a minute forty-five, but now he found himself missing time by an annoying ten seconds. With each breath he pushed himself harder and let out a shout of frustration as his watch buzzed loudly. Jake fell back into the grass of his backyard, arms spread out to the side. Fucking. Hell. Jake had not thought he was in decent shape, but after more than three years of not doing much of anything, he'd lost any definition or strength he once had. It was one thing to remember the many spells he needed to pass his evaluations, but aurors had to have endurance that Jake simply did not have anymore.

Yet.

It gave him something to focus on, and if his brother had arrived in the middle of Jake's set, he would not have noticed him. But, the younger brother sat up and watched Will cut across the grass, putting a hand out to block out the sun.

"What's the matter?" Jake asked instinctively; it wasn't often that his brother sought him out, at least in person. He had received many pestering owls and journals checking in on him since he'd moved out in January. Jake reached for his shirt, to wipe the sweat off his face and chest. The near-summer sun was ready to burn him to a crisp, but he'd always worked out better in the outdoors. He stood, gripping the shirt in his fist. "No practice today?"

ICKLE RHYSY

valesco.mods@gmail.com — Tue, 10 Jun 2014 02:04:07 GMT

The first few days were rough, Theo would admit. He spent too much time convincing himself that Holly would return. She would realize the past was just that and give him at the very least a chance to explain himself. It became clear quite quickly that she was not returning. He could almost understand her leaving him, but to have Theodore ask him every day where she was, why mum wasn’t coming home, that he didn’t understand. That she continued to stay away from Theodore. It made his heart ache to hear the questions from the small boy. He deserved her, even if Theo did not.

As weeks past, he found himself in a routine much similar to the days after Cordelia, and before Holly. Except now such a life, he found it lacking some how. He couldn’t seem to remember how he use to occupy his time before she entered his life, though he was sure it didn’t include sitting on the floor playing with with dragons and trying to keep up with his sons rapid talking. He didn’t get it. Holly had been much better at these sorts of games than he could ever try to be. All he heard was his son telling tales that made no sense. That had no logic or reason. It was hard for him to sit on the floor and play this game of pretend he didn’t believe in, but it was the only thing that kept the boy happy and from asking questions Theo couldn’t answer.

He knew better than to get his hopes up at the sound of the front door opening (he had made that mistake few too many times). Or at the sound of footsteps down the hall. He knew he would just be disappointed when he looked over his shoulder to see who was casting the shadow in the room. And disappointed he was, even still. “Are you still here Rhys?” He asked dulling, surrendering the dragon he had to his son and pushing himself up off the floor. “I thought you had left.”

Party Thread, get those bingo boxes!

valesco.mods@gmail.com — Thu, 05 Jun 2014 14:19:13 GMT

By the time the party was in full swing, there may have been a bit more than 'just the important' people milling about Thomas' backyard. Kendall was also just drunk enough to not care about the wrath that he was potentially incurring from his best friend. It had started out small enough, when he was still sober and cooking food. He had been grinning all afternoon and now that the sun was setting, even more people were showing up. There was a quidditch game going on, people swimming, dancing. He couldn't think of a better way to be spending his birthday.

Pulling himself out of the lake, he grabbed his towel to dry of his face as he made his way over to get another drink. He scanned the crowd quite pleased with himself, he couldn't remember ever throwing a party that quite like this. And last minute as well. His had a great team, great friends, a great thing going on with Anya. He couldn't remember the last time he was this happy.

Taking a drag of his drink, Kendall settled himself on the grass laying back to stare at the colors that were starting to paint the sky. He was looking forward to Charlie's fireworks, the phrase 'whatever you want, have fun' probably shouldn't have been used, but it was guaranteed to have spectacular results. It didn't take long before a there was shadow cast over him. "Oh hey, fancy seeing you here," he grinned as he tilted his head back to see who had joined him. Propping himself up on his elbows he nodded to empty stretch of grass next to him. "Enjoying the party?"

(ooc: Open to pretty much everyone? Lol if you can connect your character to Kendall by 3 people then its legit. Kendall's tag is up for grabs. :* Have fun get, dem posts.)

valesco.mods@gmail.com — Thu, 05 Jun 2014 05:42:46 GMT

WHO: Delilah Spinnet and Matt Summerby
WHERE: Her house!
WHEN: idk last night?
WHAT: Random visits leads to random talks and things?

Delilah collapsed on her couch exhausted. She had competed in six duels in the last seven days, and she was certain she was never ever going to move again. Summer was just around the corner, and that meant soon all the major tournaments were going to be starting up. She was working hard to stay up in the standing, taking on every duel that Henry suggested. And doing well.

Her eyes fluttered closed and her mind drifted, back to where it settled every time she stopped moving for a few moment. The Snitch! Radio party, and what he was about to say before they were interrupted. She could help but dwell on it with how he was looking at her. It hadn’t come up again since. Which was fair, his brother was back in his life, and that was a tricky situation that was bound to be difficult to navigate. She told him if he needed her, he knew where to find her, but she hadn’t heard much over the last couple weeks. So she just kept herself busy.

The knocking startled her awake. Blinking, disoriented, she checked her watch to find that she had been asleep for two hours. Wrinkling her nose she pulled herself off the couch trying remember if she had plans for the evening. A smile spread on her face as she pulled open the door to find her boyfriend.

“Hey you,” she greeted lean up to give him a kiss. “Sorry, did we have plans? I forgot.”

Matt’s life had flipped and dipped and flopped upside down. Caleb was great, quidditch was great, everything was great. Especially this lady that was kissing him right now! His arm wrapped tightly around Delilah’s waist and he walked them back into her foyer, lips still locked.

“No plans,” he said when they finally parted. Matt smiled happily down at her, feeling almost drunk. Okay, he was a little drunk, but there was no problem with going out to the pubs with your brother and some of his mates. This was the stuff they’d missed out on! Matt should’ve been there to drive his brother home on his first day getting pissed, he should’ve had to bail Caleb out of jail at least three times by now. They were making up for lost time and it felt damn good.

“Just thought I’d see my girl, there a problem with that?” Matt said with a wolfish grin. Caleb’s summer courses for his masters program had started and he’d made it an early night; Matt could now guilt-free spend some time with Delilah and he was going to take advantage of it. His other arm reached around her and lifted her off the ground a little for another kiss.

This was new, not that Delilah was complaining, at all. She quite enjoyed kissing her boyfriend, even if he did taste little bit like beer. She melted into the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck. This was nice. Delilah had missed this right here. It felt like it had been ages since she had kissed Matthew like this. Since it was just the two of them alone together. She might not have known what he was going to say when they were interrupted at the party, but she did know what she had planned for that evening.

“No problem. Not a one.” She cupped his face in her hands continuing the kiss. Suddenly, she wasn’t so tired anymore. Perhaps it was the nap she took. More likely it was her boyfriend had shown up and turned her hello kiss into a full on snog session. After another moment, Delilah pulled away flushed. They were not teenagers. The very least they could do is make it to the couch. Taking his hand in hers she walked backwards leading him into her living room. “I love surprise visits. Especially ones from you.”

She hummed stealing another kiss from him as he settled down on her couch. “Sorry, I don’t have any food, but I can offer you something to drink.” Her attempt at being a good host, perhaps just a minute of polite conversation.

“Drinks are always good!” Matt said happily and a bit loudly. He’d been drunk more times in the past few weeks than he had been in the last couple of years. His whole life, really. It was what those young folks liked to do, he supposed. The age difference between him and his brother had always seemed so wide, and it was, it was a good six years, but now that Caleb could do everything he could do, well. It was a grand time.

And drinks were always such a good way to catch up with things! They’d been kicked out of a few places for just sticking around too late because time seemed to zoom by when the stories and beer flowed. Caleb was so interesting. His adoptive parents were professors and that gave them summer holidays off which meant that they traveled all the time. Matt marveled at all the places Caleb had visited, all the amazing people he’d met. He’d lived a really fantastic life, one that Matt would never have been able to give him by himself.

His train of thought sobered him a bit and Matt stared out the window of the living room. Things were good now, he had to remember that. He shook off his reverie as Delilah returned with their drinks and he clinked their glasses.

“I’ve got some news,” he said, taking a drink. Matt took a deep breath and smiled widely, he was really bloody excited. “Caleb’s moving in with me. Isn’t that great? We’ve got to set up a dinner or something so you can meet him.”

Delilah was grinning broadly as she moved swiftly around her flat. Quickly fixing drinks and returning to Matthew’s side. Perhaps she could convince him to stay the night, go out for breakfast in the morning. Or just stay in and be lazy. Anything really, as long as the got to spend some time together. She ought to get one of those telly’s so they could watch muggly movies when they stay here as well.

Her thoughts slowed at his announcement of news, and then froze completely at what it actually was. She hadn’t met Caleb yet, all she really knew was that between her schedule, quidditch starting up and Matt spending whatever time he could to catch up with his brother, which was completely fair they hadn’t seen each other since they were children, was that there was hardly any time left for them. And now he was moving in with him? Just a few weeks back in his life and---

“Yeah. That’s-- fantastic.” She said her energy deflating considerably, hoping her boyfriend was too excited (or drunk) to notice her hesitation. Something felt off about it. Yes, Caleb was his brother, but that didn’t change the fact that Matthew had only known him weeks and now he was moving in? Delilah couldn’t imagine living with Charlie at this stage in her life, even if she was trying to catch up on years lost. There would be one less Spinnet Twin in the world within weeks, she was certain of it.

She let herself stew on her thoughts just for a moment before berating herself. She was being incredibly inconsiderate. A great thing was happening in Matt’s life, and all she could think about was how it was cutting into the time she could spend him. That his brother was moving in and not-- She shook the thought from her head before she could even finish. Where had that even come from. Either way, selfish is what it was. She could do better than that. She was better than that. “I can’t wait to meet him. If he’s anything like you, he has to be amazing.”

Amazing, ha! Matt pressed his lips onto Delilah’s shoulder with a shake of his head.

“This kid has traveled the world, graduated university with honors---now he’s taking his summer to keep going to school and---” Matt let out a breath, his hands clasped around the glass of his drink. “He turned out so bloody well, Delilah.”

There was so much pride swelling in his chest that it often managed to drown out the pain he felt whenever he looked at Caleb. Every time he caught his brother’s eyes Matt was pinched, slapped, punched and more with vivid images of his father, of both his parents. He remembered the life they had and the lives they’d planned and Matt had so desperately wanted to provide that for Caleb. Then they were separated, torn apart, and Matt had been a wandering mess for years while his brother thrived.

He pushed his chin up onto her shoulder with an unintentionally large pout. Matt let out a heavy breath. “I would have never been able to give him that life. He was better off getting adopted when he did.”

“Hey now,” Delilah said softly kissing away his pout. So Caleb’s life seemed to turn out pretty close to perfect, but so had Matt’s. And he worked so hard to be where he was, all while he had spent so much time worrying about his brother. Now that he was back with his seemingly perfect life, Delilah wasn’t going to let her boyfriend to continue to fret. “Don’t say that. You can’t compare what if’s with how things actually happened.”

Her hand on his cheek, pressing her forehead to his, Delilah let out a soft sigh. “It would have been different, sure. But I know you, Matthew. You would have given that boy the world, no matter the cost. Better off is all about perspective.” She stared into his eyes for a moment trying to coax a smile out of him. Brushing a kiss to the bridge of his nose, Delilah settled back into her seat, snuggling into Matthew’s side.

“What’s important now, is that you have the opportunity to catch up. Focus on what you can do now, not what you could have done.”

His eyes crinkled with his smile. Like he often did, Matt immediately agreed with words he knew to be true, words that he knew he was supposed to take to heart and understand. It was easier than admitting his doubts and fears, easier than dealing with his nearly suffocating lack of confidence. Delilah was saying these things because she believed them and in him, so that’s what he was going to focus on right now. He’d let himself drown in his thoughts some other night.

Determined not to completely muck up their evening, Matt decided to stop wasting time. He kissed her temple, her ear, and then her cheek, grateful he had someone who cared so much. There was very little persuasion needed for his lips to capture Delilah’s and Matt’s mind and hands began to wander. They managed to find themselves in a very familiar and horizontal position on the couch and Matt shifted his weight, sticking himself between Delilah and the back cushions. His hand brushed down the side of her face.

“We should get to bed,” he said, kissing her lightly once more before attempting to sit up.

Delilah grinned at his kisses, pleased that she was successful at getting him to stop fretting. And even more pleased that they were apparently done talking about his brother and had moved on to a much more enjoyable topic, which involved much less talking and far more snogging. Much closer to how she envisioned the night going when she found him at her door.

She let out a bit of a pathetic groan as he attempted to sit up, suggesting they should go to bed. Bed, which somehow in this relationship still actually meant going to sleep. Nora mocked her whenever the topic arose, and honestly Delilah didn’t have a response for her. She couldn’t explain it, it was just this thing. This thing that she was now ready to be over, but somehow remained. She traced lines down his side refusing to sit up herself. “I don’t know, bed is so far away.” She sighed dramatically. “All the way in the other room, down the hall. I’m far too comfortable right here to be moving that far.”

She tugged slightly on the sleeve of his shirt, unable to keep her pout from forming into a grin. Who knew when the next time she would have him staying over would be, and if Caleb was moving in with him then--- Well Delilah certainly wanted to take advantage of this time. She propped herself up on her elbows so she could steal another kiss. “Are you tired already?”

It didn’t take much to persuade him to stay. Matt mumbled into her mouth that he was not tired at all and soon they found themselves nearing a point they hadn’t passed before.

Matt worked with Delilah’s cues and he’d never pushed for more than she wanted (no matter how agonizing it could be at times). So when there was little left to the imagination and a lamp or two knocked over, Matt let out a heavy breath, his arms wrapped tightly around her. Was this going to happen? For reasons undisclosed to him they had not taken their relationship to the next step, so what had changed?

“Yeah?” was all he managed, hoping she’d be able to read his mind as he continued to kiss her, her face, her neck, her shoulders.

Delilah snickered when the first lamp fell to the floor, and by the time she got her giggles under control, the second lamp crashed to the floor setting her off into another fit. Laughing into her kisses, feeling ridiculous. Okay maybe moving to the bed would have been a better idea than staying here on the couch. They’ve nearly fallen off twice now. Surely they could manage the short distance to her room. She felt so ridiculous, but she’d never been happier.

By the time there were more clothes on the floor than on either of them, Delilah had stopped snickering. For the most part (it was considerably difficult with fumbling around that came with being on the couch). Once he wrapped his arms around her, what was left quickly faded. She could live in this moment forever. Matt holding her to the point she could feel him everywhere. She didn’t think it possible for someone to make her so happy. With no effort, it seemed. They were just happily themselves with each other. And she just loved that. She loved him.

And that feeling didn’t terrify her like it use to. It took her a moment to realize with him kissing down her torso, he wouldn’t see her nodding her head in response to his question. Leaning forward she kissed the top of his head, pulling him up for a kiss once she had his attention. Nodding again, with her forehead pressed to his, she wanted to make sure she was being clear. Delilah wasn’t sure she could pull him any closer, but she certainly tried as her kissed him again.

“I love you,” she said into his lips unable to keep it in. It wasn’t like she hadn’t said it before, well she said in a card months ago, it seemed almost forgotten now. So she just needed him to know, she had to tell him how she felt before they moved on.

He heard it, he didn’t miss it.

Matt pressed his face into her neck, shutting his eyes tightly as there was not enough blood in his brain to process what exactly was happening. Delilah had never said those words out loud and they sent shivers of all sorts throughout his body. Good and bad, Matt struggled to keep from physically overreacting. He knew she meant it, he trusted Delilah and believed in her words, but her timing was painfully awful in every sense.

Love was terrifying. Love meant giving all of yourself to a person. Love meant giving them the ability to crush your heart by putting it in the palm of their hands. Matt had never been in love before, nothing beyond infatuation for a pair of pretty eyes. He knew how he felt about Delilah, he knew that he’d move mountains for her, but did that mean he was ready to give her that sort of power over him?

He was mad, he was bloody mad. Letting people into his madness was not something that came easily to Matt, and right now it felt like if he said those words back to Delilah it would be because of their compromising position. How could he say something so meaningful when all he was really thinking about was how bloody amazing she felt underneath him?

“Good timing,” Matt muttered, shifting to kiss her soundly. He didn’t want to cloud the memory of this night with doubt that he’d said those words for the wrong reason. It had to be right, could Delilah tell that from his kiss?

Delilah froze for a moment as he buried his face into her neck. Her heart was racing, even more so that it had been moments before. She could feel it hammering in her chest as a silence filled the room. Curling her fingers in his hair tilted her head to kiss his temple. It was suppose to be-- She wasn’t saying it just to-- Surely he knew it wasn’t a requirement for him to say it back for them to continue. That she wasn’t expecting anything other than acknowledgement. Though how Matt was suppose to ---

Her rambling thoughts were cut off with his kiss, and what few coherent thoughts she did have were completely gone. Her fingers trailed lines down his back, abs, where ever they deemed worthy of roaming while she shifted rolling her hips up into his.

When they finally broke apart for a much needed breath, Delilah was unable to keep her lips from turning up into a grin. And after a kiss like that, she doubted anyone would blame her. “Alright then?” She asked before stealing a kiss of her own from him.

ROSE!

valesco.mods@gmail.com — Mon, 02 Jun 2014 04:15:29 GMT

Thomas had left Alice with his mother because he could not allow his daughter to become a distraction from his goal. His lips twisted in frustration and he knocked rapidly on the front door of Rose Knightley's house.

He had--Thomas has reasoned that he had been very good at giving her space and privacy to figure out whatever it was that she needed to figure out. He understood privacy, he lived in it. But--but she had missed the first game of the season. That was! That was serious. The whole lineup of the Catapults was in shambles, but he only gave a damn about Rose. If she was pregnant, then yes, that was understood. Wonderful, even. Thomas had found himself excited at the idea of Alice having a cousin of sorts so close in age, if Rose was indeed pregnant.

But he didn't know. Rose had always been very quick to run to him with her problems, her concerns, her secrets. It startled him that he couldn't get a straight answer out of her and he feared that his indiscretions from last year had irrevocably ruined their friendship. Was there a lack of trust? He had been so sure that they'd rectified the damage he caused, but now he didn't know. What could be serious enough that she couldn't talk to him? He felt terrible.

His mind drifted to Brookstanton; he was the change in Rose's demeanor, Thomas knew. He had kept his distance from the relationship, but if the Kestrel was doing something to her that could cause her any sort of pain, it--it would not be pretty, Thomas could assure. He made to knock again, but the door opened. Thomas pressed his lips together.

"You missed opening weekend," he stated as he looked over Rose. She didn't appear to be dying, but that didn't stop his mind from continuing to fret that might indeed be the case.

valesco.mods@gmail.com — Mon, 02 Jun 2014 04:04:11 GMT

WHO: Max Fancourt and Mattie Scarpin
WHAT: They had dinner and he wore a bowtie! Cuties
WHERE: Mattie's doorstep
WHEN: TONIGHT

Okay, this time Max was sure; they were definitely on a date. He was wearing a bowtie, Mattie had worn a nice-looking dress, they had gone out to dinner after six, and he was currently walking her up the steps to the front of her building. They had gotten sweets after dinner, and if he didn’t know any better, the nervous terror coursing through his veins could have been chalked off as a sugar high.

Of course, it wasn’t. This nervous electric energy making his heart race and brow sweat was the realization that this was effectively (aside from the forced, though thoughtful, debacles Melania had set up for him) his first real date in… longer than he would like to establish. A different decade than they were currently living, and he would leave it at that as to not feel totally pathetic and embarrassed with himself. He had just--- Max shook his head slightly, warding off his next thought. His disinterest in the dating world after his break-up with Elsie was not something he should be thinking about now. So, determined to spend the entire night content and pleased, Max quickly pushed his attention back to the present. Which, surprisingly enough, included Mattie Scarpin.

Max smiled as they made it up to the final step, and he turned to look at her. He had never thought… he had been so consumed with Elsie during his years at school, the thought of looking at another witch that way had never even crossed his mind. But now, many years later… Max smiled further.

“I had a really nice time tonight,” he confessed, and felt his already fast-paced heart pick up further. That was normal, right? He couldn’t even remember.

Mattie had been smiling all night. Grinning, really, but trying hard (and doing a poor job) to hide her excitement. This was definitely a date, right? It had to be, he was wearing a bowtie, for Merlin’s sake! After feeling all too embarrassed about not knowing what to title their first interaction, Mattie was more than pleased when future arrangements were made.

She’d always thought he was rather fetching. In Hogwarts it was easy to stare at Max from across the common room, or try to sit beside him during meal times. It was a schoolgirl crush, strong and innocent that got distracted by other boys for her and one girl in particular for him. That’s how life was, especially for a teenager. When she’d separated from the magical world, Mattie often found herself nostalgic about the life she’d left behind, her relationship with her sister being the biggest thing she missed and felt guilty over. That was a heartache, while those lingering thoughts of Max...they inspired her.

It sounded far bigger than Mattie believed it was. She’d written a few songs based on those warm feelings that one special boy could spark in your heart, and it had helped her get over the longing to join the magical world again. The lyrics dedicated to Nicola gave her pain a release and those that reminded her of Max made her smile. Music, to her, really did soothe the soul.

“I did too,” she said with a quick nod, still attempting to keep her grin from spreading too wide. Mattie pushed up on her toes before clicking her heels back to the ground. “I’d like to do it again, if your schedule permits.” She winked, forcing herself not to bounce again.

He laughed, and tapped his chin with his finger. “Well, I am a very busy wizard studying lots of books all the time so…” Max trailed off, not being able to carry his gentle tease much further. He laughed again, and shook his head.

This banter was strange, but not in an alienating way. He had forgotten how easily he and Mattie got along, or perhaps just viewed it in the past as an easy friendship. Was that strange? Had he been ignoring something all the time? What a strange way to think of it like that…

“But I think,” he spoke again, his voice a bit more normal sounding. “A date can be worked out.”

Max looked at Mattie hopefully, praying much more desperately than he had intended for her to understand the joke. Surely she had been just as confused about what, exactly, their last get together had really meant? Feeling a bout of nervousness bubble through him again, Max rubbed the side of his jaw smoothly.

Before Mattie could respond, Max hung his head between his shoulders and shook it. “Sorry, I really shouldn’t be allowed to attempt jokes.”

He’d said the magic words! Mattie’s eyes widened and likened an owl’s in surprise, but she now felt no need to suppress her smile. She did keep herself from jumping up in celebration because that would be a bit much. A date, a date! Wahoo! While Mattie could quite literally burst into song with the happiness that was soaring through her (because honestly, she’d been a tad worried they were going to be simply dessert buddies forever), she most certainly did not want to blow this out of proportion and scare dear Max away.

A date meant things! Time was being spent together, he wished to do it again. How nice, how lovely!

What was he looking all embarrassed for? Mattie had been lost in her mind-blinding euphoria and nearly missed Max’s apology. His joke had been funny! Punny, even. He had no reason to hang his head in shame because his little joke had created quite the stir in her. No, no, no time for this sort of thing; they both needed to be smiling from ear to ear.

Only hesitating because with her heels she was just as tall as Max and she needed to duck to catch his eye, Mattie pushed forward and kissed him. Her hand laid on his arm and she pulled away just as quickly as she’d accosted him.

“I think you’re plenty funny,” she said. Mattie nodded knowingly, “and cute, super cute.”

His brows rose, and Max found himself just a little bit speechless. He had not been expecting… he had been so focused on preparing for what was expected at the end of every date that he hadn’t thought… Max let out a low laugh, and rubbed the back of his neck. He had forgotten who he was standing here before. Mattie Scarpin didn’t wait around, she grabbed for what she wanted without hesitation, a trait Max wished he’d had in his life.

“Thanks,” he mustered, feeling his face becoming a bit hot. “I think so too. I mean---” Max let out an embarrassed laugh and shook his head. “About you, I mean. Not me, that would kind of be weird?”

He glanced down, looking at her hand on his arm. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he had been…. there had been other witches, of course, over the years since his relationship with Elsie, but they had all felt contrived and unnatural, and quickly put to rest. But now… he didn’t feel that discomfort. Anxiety, yes, but that was undoubtedly from his embarrassingly rusty tendencies faced with a witch that could very well become something more.

Swallowing what he hoped were his fears, Max with great resolution then moved his free hand to clutch the side of Mattie’s face. Moving forward, he kissed her soundly, a proper, determined end of the night snog fit for an end of the night date. And it was good, excellent even, enough for after a bit it was necessary for him to pull away.

“I should get going,” Max spoke quietly, his smile from before reappearing on his face again.

Did that really just happen? Mattie felt dizzy, her admittedly goofy smile appearing almost instantly the moment they parted. Max Fancourt had just snogged the breath out of her. Well, well, well! This evening had started off with an uncertainty of its connotations, but they’d cleared the air quite nicely. Mattie really didn’t want the evening to end, it had been absolutely lovely, the loveliest she’d had in a long time, but she knew it had to.

“It is late,” she said with a frown.

Some little devil on her shoulder whispered that perhaps she could invite him upstairs for ‘tea,’ but Mattie snuffed the thought. Mattie had cared about Max as a friend for a long time and fancied him for nearly as long; this...this thing that was brewing between them needed to be treated carefully and nurtured. Brewing, blossoming, becoming...Mattie smiled, thinking that this boy may have just inspired another song.

Mattie tugged on the hem of Max’s sleeve, letting out a small sigh. “Right, okay, have a good night,” she said with an assured nod. “Owl me about that thing...what did you call it? A date?”

He smiled. “I think that’s what the young folk call them these days…” Max trailed off, squinting his eyes in faux thought. His heart was still beating fast, and it almost felt like he had lost all energy in his limbs, but--- that was a good thing, right?

Yes, definitely, he assured himself as he hopped down the steps to the front of Mattie’s building. Definitely a good thing.

Owl to Adian Rosenberg

valesco.mods@gmail.com — Mon, 02 Jun 2014 00:18:36 GMT

~~Dear---Hey---Hello?--~~

Adian

Are you busy tomorrow?

~~Char---~~
Lottie

valesco.mods@gmail.com — Thu, 29 May 2014 04:19:27 GMT

Who: Adian's BFF and crush, who just happen to hate each other,
What: are forced to spend the day together.
Where: At the Snitch!Radio Station
When: Earlier today!

Charlotte was absolutely in love with her job. Barely two weeks in, and she was so sure she was destined to do just this, she almost wrote Octavius an owl thanking him for firing her. Almost. She was going to be at least two games a week. Talking to the players. Sharing her knowledge. How fantastic was this job? Yet another thing she owed to Jake Bexley.

Working up to the start of the season, Lottie found her time being filled up with promotions before they started to send her out to the pitches. Easy. Today her day was filled with showing some contestant winner around the station, the manager seemed certain that the bloke would enjoy her company much more than some of the other old guys running the place. Well, obviously. Then later, they would be interviewing a player together. What a lucky guy. How lucky was she to be getting paid to do this.

She checked her hair in the mirror one last time, she skipped down the stairs to the to find her guest. Charlotte was told much, the secretary at the front had let him back to the break room. A Louis. It wasn’t until she walked into the room, and he turned around that Lottie even thought it could be that Louis.

“You!” she gasped stopping dead in her tracks. “What are you doing here? You can’t be here.”

His face fell, lip curling in disgust. What was she doing here? Louis thought back to the many conversations Adian had about Lottie that he chose to ignore, and perhaps his friend had mentioned that she was now working for the new quidditch show. Adian had made mention of this girl every day for the past eleven years, so there was a lot of information to sort through and ignore. What was his luck that he had won this amazing contest, but had to endure the torture of Lottie Sweeting's presence?

He tugged at the visitor’s pass clipped to the front of his shirt and showed it to her. “I am the winner of the contest, yes.”

It had been his sister who told him about the wireless commercial she had heard. How funny would it be if he won and had to interview Lynch? Or Spinnet? Two quidditch players that Louis did not particularly want to be within a few feet of. Louis entered the contest regardless, because he had never been on the wireless and it would be a good story to tell if he won, and here he was!

Staring down Lottie, he knew it was all too good to be true.

“Adian told me you got a new job,” Louis said, straightening up and making it obvious that he was only making idle, polite conversation as he looked about the waiting room. The walls were decorated with autographed posters, and Louis felt his attention begin to drift away from Lottie. “Congratulations.”

Lottie’s twitched slightly when he said that he was the winner of the contest. Today was supposed to be easy. Now she had to show this pompous git around. Louis was going to get to meet--- just great. What a day ruiner Bonaccord was.

Though, maybe, just maybe she could have fun with this yet. She leaned in to inspect his visitors badge, before rocking back on her heels.

“Thank you, Louis,” she said sweetly, drawing out his name, pronouncing it as any Londoner would. “I’m quite pleased with it. Congratulations on winning the contest. How lucky for you, you get to spend the day with me!”

Stepping in front of his gaze, Lottie grinned tilting her head to the side. “I can’t wait to share with you, what I get to do everyday.” She clapped her hands together, stepping around him to the door. “Well, come along, the longer it takes to get around the station, the less time we get to spend with the player.” Which really didn’t matter, she could talk for ages on the most mundane things.

“Loo-ee,” he corrected immediately, automatically. He had to correct people daily on how to pronounce his name, often followed by having to explain, and then defend. Was his lisp-y french accent not enough to prove his point? Lottie could never get it right in the few times they had managed to be within five feet of each other for more than a minute.

What Adian saw in her other than her perfect figure and ridiculously red hair, he would never know.

But, touring the studios did sound like something he wished to do, even if he had to deal with Lottie. He had become an expert at tuning out all talk of her, so perhaps that could translate into actually ignoring her.

“Lead the way, Sweeting,” he said, sweeping his hand toward the door. The faster they got this tour over with, the faster they would get to the mystery player they were to interview. He and Adian had stayed up all night making up their list of questions ranging from favorite broomstick to how many pieces of toast they had for breakfast.

It was important to know.

Lottie just waved off his correction as she lead him down the hall. Loo-iss Loo-ee, it didn’t really matter. She started spouting off facts as the made their way up the stairs. There was a lot of history to the building they had set up in. And Lottie was obsessed with all the memorabilia they had scattered on every surface. It was easy for her to talk about, and very difficult to not do a good job at showing him around.

“I saw Lynch here earlier,” Lottie commented as they paused in front of a Falcons poster. Gauging Louis’ reaction she continued on, “I was told from a rather reputable source he’s engaged. Maybe he’ll be who we get to interview, I’d love to get to the bottom of that.” It wasn’t exactly true, she knew exactly who they were talking to, but what fun would it be if she didn’t make Bonaccord think he was getting someone else.

If there was one person that could create a fiery rage inside of Louis other than Lottie Sweeting, it was Michal Conway Lynch. Bloody fuck. Louis’ eye gave a slight twitch at the thought of the Falcon and averted his eyes to another poster. He and Adian had been very lucky that Lynch had not pressed charges against his rather ill-thought out plan to punch him in the face at an official quidditch all-star event. It could have cost them their jobs and or their lives. Luck had been on his side, but he had no desire to get within five feet of Lynch again.

...wait, she’d seen him here?

Louis couldn’t help his face from paling. Was Lynch the player they were going to be interviewing? His luck was already wavering with the appearance of Lottie, it could just turn and croak and reveal Lynch behind the green room doors. He did not regret defending his sister’s honor, but he did care about his ego (he did not think he could handle public humiliation over the airwaves). Louis straightened up and cleared his throat, continuing to seem disinterested in the Falcons poster.

“Poor girl,” was all he said, looking expectantly at Lottie, hoping to change topics.

Charlotte took a moment of satisfaction in watching Louis pale, pleased that she had hit her mark. “Poor girl,” she repeated rocking on her heels. She didn’t like Bonaccord, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a point. Lottie had her money on Lynch losing it before All-Star break.

She started to whistle a quirky, annoying tune that she been humming when ever she wasn’t talking. The song had been stuck in her head all day and she only knew three words, and if she was going to suffer this torment, then so was he. Poking her head around the corner, she checked for any sign of their player. Then the green room, still empty. Well Lottie supposed, such a superstar could take all the time he wanted.

“Alright, in here Louis.” She said ushering him into the green room. “This is where the magic happens, so to speak.” Perching up on the desk, Lottie looked at her watch with holding a groan. She took as long as she possibly could and apparently they still had twenty minutes to kill. She should probably ask him if he had any questions, proper thing to do really.

“So. Tell me more about Adian.”

His eyebrows rose. This was not the topic he thought they would be discussing today. Adian could probably telepathically feel that he was within two feet of Lottie Sweeting’s presence and was having a proper conniption about it. Louis eyed her carefully, and then shrugged. He quite suddenly had the opportunity to move his best friend’s chase of the woman in front of him much closer to the finish line, but did he really wish to have him reach this prize? Adian must see something in her that Louis did not; he was learning from the people around him that perhaps he should not judge so harshly.

Except he knew for a fact that Lottie was the most irritating person on the planet. But, Adian fancied the life out of her, and here she was inquiring about his friend. Perhaps there was more to Lottie than Louis had previously thought. Not much, but maybe something.

“He’s the best bloke there is. Would do anything for anyone he cares about.” Louis gave Lottie a pointed stare and held it for longer than he should have. Adian deserved the best, and while Louis did not think that Lottie was the best, his friend deserved to have a good word put in for him. “He’s going to be a top journalist soon and I reckon he’s not going to have much time for people who don’t give him the light of day.”

Louis sat back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest to let her know that the quaffle was on her pitch.

Charlotte looked away feeling uncomfortable under Louis’ stare. She knew exactly what he was saying. Adian was so obvious about it. At first, she thought it was cute, fun even to see just how a smile could make him trip over his words. And then she got to know him, and he was sweet and smart and actually funny. A real genuinely nice guy. But then there was New Year’s Eve, and Jake, a enigma that she was determined to figure out.

Tapping her fingers on the desk she looked back to Louis. She had no idea why Adian even liked her. She didn’t even know enough about him to know that he liked--knew enough about quidditch to write for The Prophet. “As he shouldn’t, such people don’t deserve as much,” her heels clicked on the floor as she hopped of the desk. “but I’m pretty sure Adian would make time for anyone who wanted his attention. He’s good like that.” She didn’t even know why she was saying such things but there was this feeling that was settling in her chest. One that she wasn’t quite sure she was pleased with how familiar it was getting. Guilt, she was pretty sure it was guilt.

“It was a very impressive article he wrote. Have to admit, I was a bit jealous.” She moved around the desk fishing out the roll of parchment she was given earlier in the day. She was suddenly done with the topic she had just brought up and knew a quick way to end it. “Agent sent over a list of off-limit topics. You should probably read them before he gets here.”

Off-limit topics? Louis took the parchment almost greedily, excited to get his real first clue about the mystery player. Nothing seemed too strange, and it didn’t help at all with figuring out who they were going to be interviewing. He was about to ask if his and Adian’s list needed to get checked when the door to the green room opened.

Louis felt like he was going to pass out. It couldn’t be. He was shaking hands before he knew it.

“Finn McLaggen,” the former Puddlemere United captain, Irish World Cup team captain, numerous time MVP said to him. To Louis! He said his name and shook his hand. McLaggen had been a key player missing off of his and Adian’s photo search during their world cup shenanigans, and now he was standing in the same room with him, breathing the same air.

“Louis,” he managed, looking at Lottie for a moment before straightening up. Bloody hell, she had him all worked up that it was gonna be Lynch. “Bonaccord---but me mum’s Irish.”

McLaggen cracked a grin, “That’s what I like to hear.”

Finn McLaggen liked to hear something he said! Wait until Adian heard about this!

Charlotte grinned at Louis when he his attention was briefly on her. Shrugging her her shoulder, she tried her best to look nonchalant about the whole ordeal. It could have easily been Lynch, but there was no way she was going to have her first interview with him, when she had the chance to talk to a superstar like Puddlemere’s former captain.

’But me mum’s Irish’ Lottie mouthed the words at Louis behind McLaggen’s back with her brows raised. She almost snorted at the Irish phrasing coming out in such a French accent. She kept it together though as seconds later he was turning to her and she covered her mocking look with a bright smile. She, unlike Louis, had all day to prepare to meet Finn McLaggen and she still couldn’t help the blush that crept up her cheeks as she held out her hand to him. “Charlotte Sweeting.” She did her best to keep her eyes from drifting from his face to his arms, this could be her last interview just as easily as it was her first.

“I can’t express what a privilege it is that I get to have you as my first interviewee. I’ve been waiting for this opportunity for a long time. And Louis here,” Charlotte said, pronouncing his name correctly for the first time that day. Glancing over to him, she thought again about what she was about to do. She really didn’t have to, at all. “It’s his lucky day, because I’m going to let him take the lead, if you don’t mind. I figure I’ll get another chance eventually,” she smiled sweetly at Finn.

She didn’t know why she was suddenly being so generous to a boy who constantly grated her nerves, but she didn’t spend all day trying to do whatever she could to annoy him. He deserved it for sticking it out until the end. And she did suppose that she really shouldn’t be actively trying to make Adian’s best friend hate her. She clapped her hands together and grinned, turning to Louis hoping that she hadn’t put him into some sort of shock, “I mean, only if you up for it, but I sure you and Adian put together enough questions to fill a book.”

Greta!

valesco.mods@gmail.com — Wed, 28 May 2014 03:09:52 GMT

He lifted his chin, examining the bruise that was forming along his jaw in the window of Flourish and Blotts. Jake scowled and dropped his head, only to catch sight of his already black eye. He wished he could remember the concealment spells that didn't make his face twinge, because now he had to walk Diagon Alley looking as if he'd just gotten mugged. He tugged the collar of his scarlet robes a bit tighter, making sure that his auror badge was fully visible so that there could at least be a chance that people would think he'd been doing something useful.

Jake had been incredibly surprised this morning when arriving at work today. Instead of the usual busy paperwork he was shoved, Auror Booth and Dawlish led him to the training area and told him that today would be the first day of his physical rehabilitation. Jake had been too stunned to argue, and far too stunned to avoid the first few hexes that were hurled at his head. That hadn't been a pretty sight. The training had only lasted a half hour, much longer than Jake had expected himself to manage, but that was only the beginning of his morning.

Parchments were signed, healers were talked to, the bloody minister had come down to congratulate him on making his way back into the ranks. Jake had spent his morning in utter shock and complete silence, unable to argue against their desires to get him back into fighting shape. He was an auror, he took orders when they came, but what in the bloody fuck was going on?

He was supposed to be meeting Lottie for lunch in half an hour, but he wasn't entirely sure he could handle having to explain his morning, let alone his face. Jake slowly made his way through Diagon, meandering to waste time and try to think of an excuse to cancel. Maybe he could use work as an excuse, as it was giving him a splitting headache. He turned to head to the nearest owl post to begin this lie of a letter and almost rammed straight into a walking by pedestrian.

"Sorry!" he let out in surprise. His instincts needed to be better than that. Jake's eyes widened and he felt his ears grow extremely hot as he realized who it was that he'd almost knocked clear off the pavement. "Greta! Hi!" He cleared his throat gruffily. "Hello," he repeated, straightening his shoulders.

Michal Conway Lynch Intervention

valesco.mods@gmail.com — Tue, 27 May 2014 01:38:30 GMT

Seth had been meaning to ask Henry to be his best man for so long, he didn't even think twice about using The Tattler announcement as an opportunity. In hindsight, he probably should have spoken to Michal first. Now he wasn't responding to his owls, his floo calls, or even coming to the door. He needed to sort this out and quick. It was understandable his best friend his best friend was upset. There was a period of time Seth didn't speak to Henry. A long period of time. He couldn't exactly recall exactly, but there may had been a drunken conversation at some point where they spoke about being each other's best men. Seth was certain he laughed at that, certain he would never get married.

But he did once already, he eloped and told no one. So, clearly he had every right to be upset, but Seth couldn't admit he made the wrong choice. A lot had changed since those drunken nights. His brother pulled his life out of the drain. Turned him around. Seth would not be even getting married right now if it had not been for Henry. They had been through so much in the last two years. It couldn't be anyone else.

Michal didn't exactly make the decision difficult with his reaction to the news that he was engaged. He didn't know what else to do to alleviate this irrational fear that Michal had that he was suddenly abandoning him, and while making Henry best man didn't exactly help, he wasn't about to base his major life decisions around Michal's whimsy. He was though, going to get to the bottom of what ever was going on. Because amount of hostility Seth was getting, suggested there was more going on.

In fact, Michal had been in a funk for ages. And Seth tried to help, but there was only so much he could do when his friend shuts him down at every turn. Either way, he wasn't leaving today until Michal finally spilled where all this misdirected anger was coming from. Breaking into his house was easy. Though was it really breaking in if Michal's super kind, prettier and much smarter sister let him in? With a charming smile and a well placed bribe you could get anywhere. He placed the bottle of whiskey on the counter before starting to roam through his friends home. "Oi! I know your home, and I may have trapped you in here with some crafty spells, so you might as well come out and talk to me. Or not, I have all day, and it seems you have plenty of food for me to eat."