POWER CANNOT CRUMBLE

what do they normally dream about? nightmares or nonsense?

Marcus has had two reoccurring nightmares for the past few years now. The one that is the more regular of the two, starts with him on the pitch, he’s flying and his father’s in the stands but slowly the match will warp until he is the only one playing and his father is the only one watching. Whenever he tries to fly nearer or closer to his father, there’s a sharp blast of blue light and his father drops to the floor. Marcus never reaches him in time to save him...The second has only become more sinister in the past few years initially starting off as an anxious musing to a fully confusing omen? It starts as the same family dinner after his father’s passing where he agreed to move forward with training and initiation into the Death Eater’s cause. He follows behind Roderick as they enter into his uncle’s study but when the chair turns around it is Roderick who sits in the seat, and his uncle who stands next to him holding his arm tightly with his wand pushed sharply into his forearm, ink spilling onto his skin and curling to rest as a fresh Dark Mark appears against his own tanned skin. Before he wakes he always seems to fixate on the familial pin breaking off of his own coat as he tries to get away from his Uncle’s grasp. 

are they too hard on themselves over the little things?

All the time, every day, constantly. Marcus will pose and preen in front of an audience any day of the week and masquerade as the most self assured wizard anyone could possibly meet purely to uphold his own image, but to also not provide any sort of crack of failing for anyone to try and best him. But the evenings in his own study are often spent pouring over minute details from the pitch and to his business holdings to make sure he’s never off on the wrong foot. His mother has voiced her concerns that he’ll tax his health in the same way his father did by worrying all the time, but the idea of failing his name is far heavier a burden. 

do they have a creative outlet? if so, what is it?

what do they hate being teased about? are they teased often?

“I do. Octavia is....particular, about many things, but Roman seems like a decent man, and one who can keep up the lifestyle Tavia is accustomed to. Roman and I have never been particularly close, but growing up around Wade and having him at the Estate every so often, but Octavia seems happy. If they weren’t a good match she’d find her own way out of it. She’s far more cunning than many give her credit for.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous. The bloodline has succeeded through the eldest born son of the eldest son since the dawn of the Magical Age when the Flint name came to be...My grandfather was the eldest of his five brothers, my father the eldest of two, and I am his only legitimate heir. Roderick’s little fantasy about having any decent claim to the family name is nothing but that, fantasy. He’s an overgrown spoilt toddler who can’t seem to get it through his thick skull that he’s not in charge. Its not my fault that he can’t grasp that concept and wants to create a show of it all...” 

GENERAL

Name: Marcus Alixandre Licorus Flint  Nicknames: Do it. He dares you. Age: 25 Place of birth: Chateau de le Sang, Vieux-Boucau-les-Bains, France  Spoken languages: English, French, Spanish, Latin, and tidbits of both modern/ancient Greek Sexual orientation: Straight  Occupation: Chaser for the Montrose Magpies. Head of the Flint Family Name & Estate

flintmarcxs​:

If there had ever been a part of her that was sentimental or romantic, Flora was sure it had died long ago. Now all that remained was cold, clear practicality, and this was what she relied on. She was a woman, and the head of a dying family with no true heir, and the only way for her to help that was through marriage. It was a topic she approached with the same detached pragmatism with which she approached everything. She had mental files and lists of all the heirs to Sacred 28 families, who was eligible, and who was not, who was available, and who was not, who might be amenable, and who would not. But the most important list was who she could respect, and who she could not. 

She wasn’t sure love was real, she’d certainly never experienced any evidence  of it herself, but even if it was she felt it was too high a star to reach for, but respect was crucial. Respect was something real and solid to build a marriage on, and she wouldn’t enter into an engagement with someone without some sort of foundation.

At the top of her list of who she could respect was Marcus Flint. He’d been forced into his role as head of the Flint family at a relatively young age, yet he’d handled the transition with aplomb. He ran his estate and various business dealings while also maintaining a quidditch career, an eccentric choice to be sure but not necessarily a bad one. More than anything, she admired how he was continuing his late father’s policy of remaining neutral on the issue of blood purity. 

She’d assumed he would understand the precariousness of his position, a young and unmarried patriarch standing at odds to the rest of his family, and see that the easiest way to improve his standing would be to marry, and well, and quickly. She’d hoped that Octavia’s fondness for her would help her chances, but she seemed to have been wrong on both accounts. Marcus had thus far been resistant to all of her attempts to begin a productive conversation, and she’d almost  given up entirely when she received his invitation. 

She’d chosen to take it as a positive sign, and prepared for the day with a cautious amount of optimism.  It was  nice  to  be able to put on  a pair of heels  without  worrying about seeming too tall, and Mitsy styled her hair  in a cascade of graceful waves that almost made her feel pretty. She timed her departure perfectly, so she would arrive precisely on time. She spun out of the fire place into the east sitting room to find Marcus already waiting for her, which was no less than she’d expected.  She smiled warmly at Marcus before handing her coat to the waiting elf, thanking it politely. 

“I was pleased to receive your invitation, and glad to accept it.” She handed him an elegantly wrapped package. Hostess, or in this case host, gifts had fallen out of vogue somewhat, but Flora still believed they were a  crucial part of a good first impression. For  Marcus  she’d  chosen a set of custom dragonhide coasters, stamped with the Flint family crest, a practical yet personal gift.

Marcus eyed the girl as she handed off her coat, interacting quite politely with his favorite elf, something he made note of. He’d never been one to tout any kind of softness for house elves or for the stupid notion of their liberation, but he saw no need in treating them cruelly. The elves of the Estate had served for generations and were proud and loyal to the family. Flora herself was tall, standing nearly equal to his shoulder, a feat most witches barely managed. Primed as any lady of standing often was, he had to admit if it weren’t for her ever persistent owling and repeated offers of marriage, she’d be quite an attractive woman, however fooling around with any witch of a Sacred 28 Family was sure to come with trouble, so Marcus had done his best to steer clear of most of the lot of them save for Daphne, Octavia and occasionally Parkinson when he was younger. 

He knew she was familiar with his cousin, one of the few witches she associated herself with and he had to give the girl credit for not only being able to convince Octavia to spend any amount of time socializing without anything to gain but for also staying friends with her as long as she had. He loved Tavia unlike anyone else, but he’d be lying if he said he couldn’t realize how abrasive and tenacious she could be. 

“Oh, how kind. You truly didn’t have to. I know most laugh, and Mumsie would scoff, but I truly think some of the frilliness of our status is dreadful..” He said with a teasing roll of his eyes, taking the package from her hands and extending another thank you. As he unwrapped the present, he was surprised at the quality, and the nostalgic aroma of dragonhide. “However, this is wonderful. You are an excellent gifter, Ms.Carrow. I’ve always said if they could bottle the smell of dragonhide accurately, whatever potioneer managed could make a fine living off it...” He said giving her another smile, before passing the bag off to another elf and extending a hand out to the chair across from him. 

flintmarcxs​:

“It’s not just five minutes, it’s been longer than that, that’s the problem.” He ran a hand through his hair, trying to figure out when he’d seen her last. While he had drank a few drinks looking for Katie had sobered him up. “I haven’t seen her about an hour and then the news of the escaped death easters came so I wanted to find her and leave, but now she’s nowhere to be found.” The worry in his eyes was obvious, he was terrified that something had happened to her. 

“Kates as in Katie Bell as in my wife.” Was she going to go by Katie Wood now? They hadn’t even talked about that yet. He had to find her. 

“I’m sorry about the flowers, I didn’t do it on purpose. I’ll pay for them, just tell me what they cost and I’ll get the money out of my vault tomorrow. I just need to find her first. I don’t want anything to happen to her.”

Over the years, Marcus had seen Oliver Wood in many a state. Angry, upset, even unfortunately joyous and goading, but he had never seen the other wizard panicked.That was the only way to describe what was before him. He looked lost, and just slightly tipsy if the clumsiness of his steps had anything to say, although it could have been his usual lumbering form, Marcus really had never bothered to pay much mind. But when his usual goading was shot down with a sincerity Marcus had never before seen from the former Gryffindor, he heaved a long sigh and sent a silent curse toward his mother’s name for blessing him with her damned compassion. 

“Alright, alright. They’re just flowers, no need to drain your bank account, besides the gardeners should be here within the week to change everything out anyhow. Katie Bell?” Marcus knew the name, damned good player she was, but he hadn’t known they were married. He shuffled awkwardly, to give a look around praying for some witch to come sprinting over so that Wood would stop blubbering and be on his way, but he had no such luck. “Have you checked the Orchard?” He said finally turning back to Wood, deciding the fastest way to get everyone off his property would be to extend his own help.

“MACUSA still lets me back in. Which is a plus, considering I do need to get in to work.” Anthony said with a shrug, a small smile playing around the corners of his mouth. Marcus really wasn’t so bad once you got to know him. Maybe a bit abrasive at times but no more so than Mike or Terry. Definitely less so than Ernie, bless the dear bastard.

He cocked his head to observe Marcus trying to suss out what could be so important they actually had to go to Anthony’s office to talk about it. Giving up he shrugged and gestured for Marcus to follow him. “I apologize in advance, I’ve been told my organization system is ‘messy’ and ‘lacks finesse’.” But he always found everything exactly when he needed it, so joke was on them.

“Not a problem at all, you should see the likes of my quidditch locker...” Marcus said with a laugh as he followed behind his friend. The issue he was currently facing wasn’t life or death, as of yet, but he wanted to at least prepare, especially as they neared Octavia’s impending nuptials. With her as an Avery officially, there was no telling what Roderick had up his sleeve especially without the distraction of having to maintain and entertain the younger witch whenever she so desired.

“I mean, you haven’t offered me some form of diluted alcohol yet, so it could be better. Still, you’ve done a great job,” Sebastian simpered genuinely, light covering his face and making him squint. He then looked around, analyzing the playground. “Our little Midsummer party is more and more lively every year,” he noted with sharpness, albeit his tone didn’t imply anything but excitement over the popularity of the event. “You’re truly avant garde, Marcus. My grandfather would have rather died than have all these people in their garden. You have a good heart.” Most of it was mockery, but never towards the other man.

“Oh come off Rowle, it’s all only diluted because the Ministry is cheap and told me that importing anything nicer ‘defeated the purpose’ of making this whole overgrown affair ‘accessible’“ Marcus kept his cool choosing to pass blame onto the organizers, it truly wasn’t his fault that they had little class. “I’m sure the mortuary is just about to crumble out across the lawn with the protests to be heard in there, but all the better that the dead can’t speak, I suppose.” Marcus said with a forced chuckle gazing across the crowed foyer full of people from every various vein of wiccan life and out onto the sprawling grounds. It was uncomfortable sure, foreign to him, but surprisingly more pleasant than the inbred and snooty crowd that usually gathered, not that he’d ever admit aloud to that fact.

 “No doubt the ancestral eyes of Flint are upon us all, but its only charitable to provide everyone a glimpse into what sort of tradition we all uphold, no? The loud-mouths always want to know why blood is such a standard to tout, and so what better way than to make them all eat their words. Quite literally. As the crest says ‘sine macula’..” Marcus gave a coy smile, and tapped on the crest pin against his chest, before grabbing two flutes of champagne as they passed, handing one toward the other man. “A slightly inconvenient favor for our government, in exchange for a favor in return upon my request whenever I so decide to use it. Besides, there is something to be said for free entertainment...” He said taking a glance at a particularly out of place suit across the way. 

Being in Marcus’ company felt so innate and was well needed now. There was a lot going on at the hospital that something so natural like this was enough to take him out of it, putting him back in a relaxed state of mind. For hours on days, Wade was pacing throughout the corridors on his feet and it wasn’t until his shift was over that he could finally breathe. He had made sure to change himself out of his healer robes before heading to Marcus’, ridding himself of the last reminder. 

“I’m not being a salesperson just a really good friend. I think Roman sells it higher than it needs to be. It is good quality but so are the other brands.” It had been Ogdens and firewhiskey that he had with Marcus in the deep nights in the Slytherin dormitory. Wade’s lips stretched into a smile as Marcus began talking, settling himself down in the chair across from his friend. “If you had the day I had then I’m sure you would be feeling exactly the same. You bewitching me? Surely there are others you can do that to easily.” Wade smiled around the brim of his glass. “I have no wish to be in your chair. Especially with Roderick breathing over your shoulder. Perhaps said attractive healer and said trade negotiator needs to have another quidditch game soon.” It had been years since he played and blamed that entirely on Weasley and the way the Gryffindors were trained. 

With the question, Wade sighed and his hand reached to muss his hair. “It’s only calmed down slightly. It’s good to get back to a healthy pace. You won’t believe the amount of days I went with little sleep…other people have been kind to distract from that exhaustion. And you? Business has been good? Hopefully your life is a much smoother one than mine at the moment.”

“Oh, I could, but what would be the fun in it? It’s less harmful to practice on you to keep my charming persona sharp. Never know when my dearest Mumsie is going to come calling for a ‘lady of the house’ again...” Marcus said with a curl to his lip that betrayed his utter disgust at the idea. Not of being bewitching, no, he loved to revel in the more carnal perks of his illustrious quidditch career, but the finite and unyielding presence of something like marriage. The whole idea was enough to bring on a headache and so he tried to divert the conversation back onto his friend.

 “Besides, you have anyone else bewitching you?” He joked, knowing that Wade couldn’t possibly be seeing anyone. “Not like Tavia’s ever given you much of the time out of her day...” He poked at the sham of an engagement his best friend and his favorite cousin had held all their lives up until very recently. 

“Gods, what I’d do for a big rivalry match about now. I’m not sure what the hell Montrose is trying to accomplish with this new stupid training calendar. Apparently the idea of things that go bump in the night is just too much for them. Absolutely ridiculous, it is. Almost like we haven’t had two wars already over this whole debacle. I’ve nearly had it with the continuous back and forth...” Marcus again trailed off, taking a long swig of whiskey as he let the burn settle nicely into his throat. “Trade is trade.Business is business. Currently working on a project with an old friend from school to make sure my nosy good-for-nothing cousin keeps his grubby hands off my things, but other than basic stock trading and advertisement perusal, things have been relatively commonplace. Finally got the younger Carrow off my back I think, you have any dealings with her? Flora? Although I’m not entirely certain on that exact fact, she seems far too smart for her own good.” He said with a half a smile and a shake of his head. “Bit old fashioned that one. Maybe we need more of that around. This whole bit of growing up is absolutely abysmal, you know that?” 

“So happy you could make it out today. As the gracious host, I can only hope that you’re having a pleasant time so far, yes?” 

“I don’t know what cause you’re speaking on but at the moment I don’t support any cause vocally. Only gits with too much time on their hands can bother to be self loathing, I’m not into the idea of wasting my valuable moments nit-picking. Depends on the instinct, depends on the someone...” 

Having had a shoot in Spain this last week, she had been a bit too busy to see her cousin to congratulate him on Quidditch being reinstated. The events that occurred at the gala, that she might or might not have had a hand in, didn’t disrupt her daily life like they had her cousin’s. She did feel bad about it, well slightly. She felt bad for Marcus and Marcus only, she couldn’t care less about the other Quidditch players and how they had felt. After owling Marcus that she was back in town he had invited her over to dinner at the Flint estate. Apparating to the front door she had the house elf open the door for her as she marched inside, calling out to her cousin. “Missed me?” 

@flintmarcxs​

Marcus had heard the wards go off as Octavia had popped onto the grounds and had left his office in a rush to get down the main hall and greet her. As rigid as their family tended to be, Octavia had always been somewhat of a soft spot for Marcus. She was his best friend all throughout childhood,and even when she was mischievous and stubborn, which was often,he still found her to be one of the few people who constantly understood him. 

“Tavia, darling, you look stunning. the sun did you well out there.” He said leaning in to place a kiss on her forehead and toss an arm over her shoulders as he lead her to the dining room.”You’ll have to tell me about Spain, another Witch Weekly or some foreign publication? You’ll get a laugh out of this, last week playing the Canons some utter dud had the nerve to comment on that photo I keep of you in my locker? Nearly wasn’t allowed to play after I knocked his teeth in, you’d think anyone would be able to put the names together and realize the relation but truly the League will let any old troll in now a days....” He said with a heavy roll of his eyes, “but we wound up winning the first match back so, fair’s fate I suppose. What sort of debauchery have you been up to, Tav?”