𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒅.

.

“One benefit of scenery is that they don’t talk back.” Regulus smiled. “Although the paintings of my ancestors often have something useful to add when it suits them.” He glanced down the hall. Paintings were just the echoes of dead relatives who had trained their representations to mirror their personalities. It was little different to the collection of Kreacher’s dead ancestors’ heads, but at times it could feel a little too like being watched by the dead. Thankfully they remained silent.

Denebola, the ever curious cat, surged forward to sniff Rosalie’s hand. “She’s part kneazle, part Siamese. She’s been a constant companion since she was no more than a hand sized ball of fluff” Regulus said, giving her tail a small tweak and she turned, batting against his hand with her head before returning to investigate Rosalie and rub against her legs. “Surely feathers must be easier to pluck off one’s robes?” He asked, brushing his robes to demonstrate that she had left a fine coating on his lap. It was perhaps rather unseemly. He should have asked Kreacher to remove what he could with a quick charm.  “Would you like to take tea? I seem to recall I owe you a tour of the family crown collection but some refreshments might be pleasant after your journey?” 

~ @foolgraves​ ~

.

“Perhaps so,” Rosalie acknowledged. “But they are rather prickly, especially when moulting. There was once a time when my dear Artemis would pluck her feathers and I’d find them all over my bedroom. They would seem to appear wherever I went.” It was when she had returned that it was certainly awful. The wretched display of her most beloved companion had pained her. Her parents dismissed it, but Rosalie knew it had been over her absence. She recovered within the following weeks. They helped eachother to heal. “I don’t suppose you have any paintings of that?” She playfully remarked. A gloved hand ran over the feline’s head, received by a low purr of content. It caused a smile. 

Faithfully clutching the arrangement of flowers occupying her other hand, she stood back up and met his eye. “A drink would be splendid. If it’s not too much to ask, might I have a glass of wine? Something warm.” The cold outside was biting. She could still feel the chill of it down her spine. Rosalie merely hoped the request wasn’t too improper. A show of sudden realization washed over her features. “Oh! By Morgana, I almost forgot,” she began with a tender chuckle, extending the handsome bouquet of Baby’s Breath and Spiderwort flowers out toward him. “These are for your mother. It was the least I could do for her hospitality.”

It was the start of a cold autumn, no doubt, Regulus thought as he looked out the window of his bedroom, quill hovering over parchment as he thought to make notes on the Crump case. Denebola was a purring weight on his lap and his free hand ran through her fur. It was Kreacher who disturbed his quiet morning with the news of his guest and Regulus could not help but smile at the news. Rosalie had become a good friend and despite the uncomfortable guilt, more often than not she was a distraction from the war. Shifting the cat, Regulus headed downstairs, followed by a curious Denebola who probably had food on her mind. 

“Rosalie! It’s good to see you. I was worried after the Ball…” His voice trailed off and dark eyes flickered to the art she was looking at. “That piece was collected by my great great grandmother on father’s side, if I recall. She always had an eye for beauty. Most of pictures of scenery and nature come from her. I’ve always enjoyed their serenity.” He smiled, moving to look at the picture, careful of Denebola who was snaking her way through his legs. “Oh, and this charming lady is Denebola. She’s friendly but apt to liberally decorate you with fur.”

~ @foolgraves​ ~

.

Rosalie was not ignorant to the mystique of paintings, finely produced artwork or images that had maintained an existence of their own. She could stare for hours. The ones found at the Flint Estate were quite the contrary. Ghastly things, they were. As a child, Rosalie hardly glanced their way. Ever fearful of them, certain they were watching her from the corner of her eye like the figment of a ghost. She had been so engrossed; she hadn’t picked up his footsteps approaching. It’s his voice that lures her back. Her head turned in his direction, greeting him with a delicate smile. It wears away promptly as she followed his gaze. “And they are beautiful.” She commented in awe as her eyes wandered to another piece, and then another. The wonder of a new place, full of things yet to be seen. 

Her attention is abruptly placed elsewhere. “Ah, so this is the little darling I’ve heard so much about.” Rosalie slowly crouches down, offering out a courteous hand for the cat to become acquainted with in her own time. “All good things, I assure you.” She continued, directed toward Denebola. Rosalie glances up through thick eyelashes. "That is a small price I am more than willing to pay. I’d much rather fur than feathers. Now, those are troublesome things.”

—

“I suppose we all do….” ALecto mused with a little smile. It was such a big part of their culture. The women got married and had the heirs. It had been a thing she’d fought against thought. It had been kind of easy, considering she had a personality most hated. It was typical though, that now she had actually found someone that she did want to marry, that she hadn’t been able to scareaway, he was pulled away from her. She supposed that should change her opinion of Caius really. Did she really want a husband that was such a mommy’s boy? But she couldn’t help but love him. “I suppose me being married would fix some of our problems” She mused with a laugh. It would at least solve her money problems. “Thank you….. I might get there one day”

“Now that I have a hard time believing,” she stated with an inclination of disgust, only faintly concealing her rebellion against the notion. “A fine woman should be successful regardless of her marital obligations. We are brilliant creatures, after all.” Her mother would thwart her for thinking as much, but she did. “But that is much easier said than it is accomplished.” There was far too much Rosalie didn’t agree with when it came to their traditions, but just as much that she did. Her index finger traced along the table top as she gave an unapologetic, yet formally composed smile. “And what of tonight? Do you have anyone special accompanying you?”

where: the crystal gardens who: @foolgraves​

Taking a drag from the cigarette in his hand, his eyes glanced towards the East India House once more. He jumped up from the stone bench he had been sitting on, feeling too antsy to remain seated. People slowly filtered into the garden from the bustling ball inside; the noises of a summer night drowning out the muffled music from inside. Despite being a little ways away from the ballroom doors, he still felt like he was out in the open. Catching Rosalie’s eyes the whole time he moved towards the gardens, Jonathan hoped she had gotten the wordless message. He felt more on edge with every small sound of the gravel path being disturbed, half expecting someone being there ready to jump out and catch the couple. His worries seemed to melt away as he finally caught a glimpse of white exiting the ballroom into the garden. With a small smile ghosting his lips, Jonathan took a step back from the bench he had previously occupied into the shadows behind a nearby hedge.

It had been agony to keep her distance. Weaving between the crowd and empty space, greeting those from esteemed families as was expected of her. The hushed whisper of her mother’s voice in her ear, always lingering over her shoulder to remind her that grace would be rewarded, but the prize itself was not something Rosalie cared about. Her love was spoken for. It was hidden in the glances, the kiss near the corner of her mouth reserved only for him. With a simple look, she understood. Rosalie bided her time before entering the gardens, in spite of the longing that became unbearable to stand, parading around with those she did not care for. Finally, she slipped away. The length of her gown delicately in her grasp as she searched the gardens, discreet as she could as to not arouse suspicion. But when she found him, she hurried to his side, pulling him further into the solace of the dark before enveloping him in a kiss.

—-

Alecto probably should have sensed that Rosalie didn’t really want company. She had sported the feeling quite a lot of the years. She tended to have a huge scowl on her face when she wanted that to happen though. Rosalie didn’t seem to be doing that. But they were indeed at a ball, and a huge scowl wasn’t the best expression to have on ones face. They were supposed to be attracting suitors after all. There was little chance of that happening for Alecto though. The pureblood marriage contracts tended to look at money too, and the Carrows had none of it anymore. It appeared that Alecto was doomed to be a spinster for the rest of her life. Which she was really not too blessed with.

“My own mother was just too desperate to get be married to consider why type of bride I would make….” She mused with a little laugh. She was sure her mother wouldn’t care less what kind of bride she made as long as she was out of her hair. How badly that had turned out for Mama Carrow. “But thank you…. I do love this dress. It’s sometimes hard to match pastel shades with me hair, but this does the job so wondefully.”

“I suppose I would know something of that also,” she replied with a soft chuckle, shooting Alecto a glance of mild amusement. While they certainly shared their differences over the years, Rosalie suspected this was one they could ascribe to. “My father doesn’t have any persuasion regarding whom I might find myself betrothed to, but the same cannot be said of my mother. She wishes me already wed.” And then there was a matter of Decius, despite his well-intent, seemed just as fervent about Rosalie’s future. She couldn’t picture what it would be like in Alecto’s position, nor could she say that she desired to. But there must be some aspect of freedom in it. That much she could envy. “You would make a fine bride.”

Who: Open!! After an hour or so of nodding at people he knew and silent judgment regarding outfits, Evan decided he had more than deserved a break, and had settled on one of the outdoor staircases near the entrance to sit down and pull out a cigarette.  He was interrupted from his movement towards a lighter when he noticed a presence take a seat next to him. Not yet turning his head towards the individual, he spoke up, a rather monotone sound to his voice. “All the pretty pastel colours are driving me absolutely crazy. Dress code palettes are idiotic.”

Only scarcely evading her mother’s clutches, Rosalie searched around the grand infrastructure for solace. It was not easily sought. But eventually, she had settled with exiting the building. The summer’s breeze was like a tender greeting against her exposed skin, open and inviting. She had noticed the occupant already there when she arrived, but that didn’t deter her from claiming a place on the steps. She could hear the echo of her mother’s voice scolding her. How unladylike. Atrocious. But Rosalie wagered a simple seat would not tarnish her gown so easily. 

She looked over her company, then glanced over her shoulder as those fashionably late to the event passed them by. Some blatantly disrespectful of the hosts wishes. The statuesque marble of her expression crumbled, letting a glimmer of distaste to contort her features. When out of sight, she turned to Evan. “Then you should be glad of the rabble. They have certainly taken as much issue with the requirements.”

Where: Ballroom in East India house

When; Mid-evening

Who: Alecto and Rosalie

Alecto had to admit that a few drinks had made her nerves settle a little. She was going to drink too much. She didn’t need to add drunken antics at the ball to the list of embarrassments, even though she did usually like drunken antics. But tonight wasn’t the night. She needed to make effective decisions tonight, for she felt the evening was going to be paramount in how the Carrows rose. So, she had to be on her best behaviour. But a few glasses of wine had made her feel more at ease. 

Spotting a familiar face, and not really wanting to be alone, Alecto moved over to Rosalie. “Rosalie. Hi” The red head murmured with a smile. “You look lovely” Which she did. “White suits you well” 

Chalice of burgundy wine in hand, Rosalie sat on the outskirts of the room in a quaint corner. She had taken it upon herself to withdraw from the crowd, instead watching the grandeur of the ball. It was all fine and wondrous, yet she felt detached from it all. The distance between herself and the festivities weren’t absolute, but she seemed like an insider looking in. Like an imposter in her lavish garb, and stone-like propriety that garnered much envy from those beneath her class.

She was content in her solitude, entranced by everything around her. It came as a surprise when she had suddenly gained company. “Oh, quite right.” Rosalie acknowledged with a nod, briefly glancing down at her dress. “Mother and her friends always did inform me that I would make a blushing bride.” Tirelessly so, as a matter of fact. “And you look magnificent yourself. I’m rather impressed. That tone of gold flatters you... It’s not at all brassy. I see a lot of that. Not many have the self-awareness to acknowledge when it clashes. You have done splendidly.”

PURA SORORES’ SUMMER SOLSTICE BALL, 1983

With it being Rosalie Flint’s first ball since her return, Lotte Flint could settle for nothing but perfection when it came to her daughter's appearance. It took some haggling, but eventually Rosalie’s input was taken into account, and they collaborated on deciding what gown she would adorn. She was a dream in white. The picture of uncomplicated elegance, but a rebellious edge of fantastical wildness about her that provoked intrigue from the glances of those in attendance. Her long brown hair was perfectly curled under the grand headpiece nestled atop of her head, but somewhat unkempt as it flowed with unmoving branches and leaves decorating the ends and middle of it. Her face was clean and untouched porcelain that glowed with radiance, the slightest shimmer of silver at the corner of her eye. If the mysterious air surrounding her didn’t draw attention, her lavish garb certainly would.

CHAOSWILLFALLRPG TASK. The Best of Rosalie Flint

.

“Enough!” Regulus laughed, waving a hand as he grinned. “I already feel bad enough after my first failed attempt. I must really avoid more plant blood on my hands. I shall let the plants talk to each other!” It was why he had stopped in the first place - or rather because Kreacher had taken on the role of parent to the plant.  “But they start screaming whenever I walk past them, I am blaming you.” 

It felt nice to be able to joke, despite the protesting mudbloods and the increasing demands and stress associated with the work he did. It felt good to ignore the remnants of guilt of his reasonings for befriending her. 

“She is.” Regulus laughed, thinking of Denebola. “You should see her when she thinks I shouldn’t be heading into work. No sense of the work week, that cat! She’ll give me the most affronted stare and do her utmost to keep me from the wardrobe.” He rather enjoyed her demanding personality. Outspoken and proud, rather like his family. The plants did not quiet encapsulate that but he was determined he would master them for the beauty. “I shall start conversing with them, then, and hope for better success.”

Wrapping a hand around his cup of tea, Regulus felt the warmth of it. “It has not cooled by much. Nothing a small charm would not sort if it was required.” Regulus said, taking a sip of it. He assumed the offer of buying a fresh cup was more a sign friendship rather than a necessity as magic negated a new cup. “The offer is appreciated though. Perhaps another time we might again take tea together?” He suggested.

~ @foolgraves​ ~ ​

“I will hold myself fully accountable, but do not say I didn’t warn you!”

Her hands raised in feigned surrender. The amusement Rosalie barely tried to suppress stifling out and despite knowing the scorn she would have faced elsewhere, she could not deny herself the joyous rollicking of laughter that followed.

The apples of her cheeks rounded as she smiled fondly. It was quite the picture to imagine. While never owning a feline herself, they rather enamored her. Few creatures didn’t tug at her heartstrings. “Well, of course. She must let you know that she’s of much greater importance.” 

“I do wish Artemis was as demanding at times. But I know she is there whenever I need her.”

With an understanding nod, she didn’t press the matter any further. Though she was delighted upon the proposal of gathering for tea. She still had not forgotten about their previous discussions regarding such arrangements.

“Have you spoken with Andromeda yet?” She questioned. “I would have taken it upon myself had I the chance, but I haven’t seen her as much as I would care to. Everything with The Ministry has her working tremendously. But I’m sure you would know all about that.”

closed starter for: @foolgraves​

Maren had had every intention of forgetting about Rosalie Flint, of simply filing her away with the rest of the purebloods like the Yaxleys who would just never understand. Maren wasn’t one to fuss herself with other peoples’ opinions, and that went doubly for stuck up pureblood. But Maren’s brain had, apparently, missed the memo. Several days after the march, Maren was still thinking about Rosalie’s face as she watched Benjy’s speech and their conversation, which Maren was beginning to suspect she’d cut short. Hindsight is always 20/20, and looking back Maren saw the little hints she’d been too put out to see in the moment. Now, she was beginning to think that perhaps Rosalie wasn’t a completely worthless pureblood.

So when, one day before work, Maren realized it was Rosalie walking a few paces ahead of her in Diagon Alley, Maren hurried to catch up with her. “Good afternoon, Rosalie.” With someone else, Maren might’ve just jumped into what she wanted to talk about, but she wanted to speak on Rosalie’s level, or at least try to.

She navigated the cobbled streets of Diagon Alley with various brown paper bags hanging from her arm. It had been a day taken up by shopping with Walden so far, and she had further plans to meet up with another friend afterwards. A busy day was still ahead, she was not in the mindset to deal with delays. Tardiness was unacceptable. So, when Maren Linwood approached her in the street, with a change in her face that Rosalie was not naïve to, the look of someone who wanted something, she was less than pleased. Especially after their previous encounter scorned her.

It left her with less than cordial judgments about the woman.

And Rosalie had been vulnerable. She had shown her a glimpse of a side that she wasn’t certain she liked. It was not an intelligent choice on her part. Now, Rosalie only hoped it wouldn’t haunt her. “Maren.” She acknowledged. Although fairly startled by her presence, she remained composed. Save for some understandable hostility given where they left off. “Come to goad me some more?”

—

“Ooh…. did he?” Walburga murmured, tilting her head to the side as she looked at Rosalie. She had known that she had raised Regulus to be a good and polite gentleman, but to have it confirmed that he helped his fellow wixen. Well, it made her very proud. She didn’t have many things to be proud of Sirius for, so it was good that she could have things to be proud of Regulus for. “I’m very proud of him. He’s a good boy” And she was just grateful that he hadn’t followed in his brothers footsteps. That was good, because Walburga didn’t think that she could handle another heart break of losing a son. “I will let him know. I’m sure he’ll be happy to know he was appreciated”

There was not a minute that Rosalie spent with him she didn’t wish they had known each other better before. She had her apprehensions of whether they would have became as acquainted if it weren’t for the gathering to commemorate her return, and by association, everything that had unfolded beforehand. At least some good came from it. A good she felt that was deserved. Regulus had entered her life at an unfortunate time, but it felt like the right one. She was fortunate. He was no longer just her best friend’s cousin, someone she knew, but never held close. “I would expect that he already does.” Rosalie offered a smile. “Unless I have failed to adequately express my gratitude. He has done me many kindnesses that I can only hope to repay some day. It is unusual to think that we have not been friends sooner. I’m proud to call him mine.”

Sinking, that was the only way Decius describe how he felt in those weeks that Rosalie was missing.  To the public, and many Daily Prophet articles. Decius had remained stoic, just as he had been trained to be. The Perfect Pureblood Son, emotionless and stiff upper lipped. But on the inside, it felt as though he was falling into darkness. Feeling submerged in the murky waters of his guilt and grief, where no one could hear his pleas or calls for help. He had felt cold, and stiff.  So when Decius caught glimpse of Rosalie at the breakfast table that morning, it felt as though every emotion hit him at once.  Joy, Relief, Guilt and Grief all combined, until the Flint heir was reduced to nothing more than a boy, crying and clinging to the hand of his younger sister. The sister he had abandoned. 

“Always and Forever,” Decius repeated back to Rosalie. A lump forming in his throat as he spoke, all the things left unsaid would haunt him.  How he told the aurors that he hadn’t seen his sister from they first arrived to mask his affair with Ana Dupont, or how he would continue to allow Rosalie to believe he had never left.  Never wanting Rosalie to look at him, the way they looked at their parents. A tear forming in his eye. Decius nodded. “I promise to never put you in that dangerous situation again. I should’ve been there…It should have been me.” @foolgraves· 

It should have been me. That alone made Rosalie’s heart shatter. She couldn’t envision anything worse than that. She would have suffered time after time if it had meant that her brother didn’t feel an ounce of misery. There was so much she hadn’t been able to shelter him from already. Both of them were victims of the circumstance, with Rosalie’s woeful sorrows and their shared uncertainty, equally haunted by what had occurred. But now, they had each other.

That meant everything.

“No... no, don’t say that. Never say that.” Rosalie shook her head, rebuking the mere notion. It was ludicrous. “You are not to blame. None of what happened is your fault. I need you to know that.”